I’ve been really depressed off and on lately, though I’m not really sure if it’s chemical or issue-based. The sort of acute heartache I feel now would usually indicate that Meridjet is stimulating my subconscious with regard to work needing to be done. However, he’s been relatively inactive for the past year so I have no reason to think he has anything to do with this. That’s too bad, since at least in that case I’d be able to make proactive decisions and work on it. I have no idea how to work on this.

Last time we had a major hurricane and had to evacuate (for Rita in 2005, which ended up being a lot of panic for not a lot of storm), I had a similar reaction. But when Rita was imminent, I (like a lot of others) was terrified and convinced my home was going to be destroyed. This time, I (like those same others, most likely) refused to get worked up about it because of the post-traumatic shock that occurred before. So this time, naturally, shock ended up being much more justifiable. I still have my home, so I’m luckier than thousands of other naysayers, but the interruption to my life has nevertheless been difficult to overcome.

I considered for a while doing a philosophical post about the post-Katrina layman’s response to anything less than sheer destruction of a major city with thousands stranded and dying in football stadiums (which is, basically, “ho-hum, whoopee”). FEMA is present and quite evident, and in fact I spent some time with them today. But the idea of philosophizing or, dare I admit it, preaching to people about the effects of this sort of event on one’s equilibrium, has worn thin. Suffice to say that not all damage is visible, similar to the way many diseases or chronic illnesses are hard to credit due to lack of more obvious symptoms.

What I’d really like is to just let it go and get back to what I was doing when I was ejected from my home with two hours notice, but I am having difficulty shifting back. I find that I increasingly despair over ever finding the energy again to do more than contemplate how to most effectively self-destruct. It’s not even a whiny, petulant, self-pitying depression anymore, which at least I could poke fun at. Now it’s more of a half-assed, “whatever,” I-might-as-well-quit-trying-cuz-I’ll-never-measure-up sort of despair. And that’s harder to shake.

I saw my therapist today. I think our bond is solidifying, because it’s only with those I trust that I find myself realizing my sadness (etc.) when I see them, when I’d been thinking I was fine. I’ve had moments and even half-days of pain in the last two weeks, but it hit me like a brick wall at 90mph today when I sat down in his office and started to talk. Naturally, the session ended much too soon and I left feeling far worse than I had upon arrival. He scheduled me back for Monday, suggesting we go back to our former once-per-week schedule.

I just don’t feel up to the task of anything at all. I want to curl up in a ball and rock myself. I can’t even dredge up enough energy for a panic attack. Bah.

In spite of this, I hope to be around more… making better posts than this.

2 Responses to “Life Goes On, In Spite of Preferences”

1. Soli says:

   7 October 2008 at 7:45 pm

   Part of my brain wants to go into ideas and fix-it mode, because that’s what it just DOES, but I will avoid it yet.

   Take care of yourself, more than anything else. *offers hugs*

   Reply
2. sheta says:

   8 October 2008 at 3:22 pm

   @Soli: No worries. I have the same tendency to advise. It took almost a slap in the face for me to realize how inappropriate it could be at times. But I finally caught on.

   I will do my best. Thanks. *hug*

   Reply