[Warning - the following should be taken with a pinch of salt as I'm depressed and missed my meds last night.]
Yesterday I had vague plans about writing here about my game, but then I kind of screwed up and lost all enthusiasm for it, and for writing. I don't really know what I'm doing here - I think this whinging on the internet is similar to when I hung around in the maths department crying: a pathetic attempt to get people to notice me and maybe help or at least pay attention to me. I should stop. Even if I somehow managed to come up with a blog people actually wanted to read and enjoyed I'm not sure that's any better. It's all ultimately about attention-seeking and I really should be concentrating on surviving.
Not that I know why that's so hard. It's not like my parents have died, or I get random abuse shouted at me whenever I step outside. But everything seems to require so much effort and I'm tired all the time and I don't know what to do about any of it but just keep on plodding on. I've pretty much given up hoping things will improve. Maybe they will or maybe they won't. I have to cope either way.
Doctor's appointment tomorrow and I have no clue what to say. Don't know if meds are helping or not. Don't really know what I want them to help with. People have suggested counselling and it may be worth a go, but I keep failing to enquire about it because I'm shy and don't know what to say, even via email. And if I go, well....I'm shy and I won't know what to say. I just feel like giving up. I failed to get the comics I wanted today because the shop hadn't put them out yet, or they hadn't come yet, or they'd sold out already - I don't know because I'm too shy to ask. The idea that I might be able to get a job is just laughable but I have to try because, well, I "have" to. I "have" to do housework, which I don't want to do, because it needs to be done. I have to go fetch my son and feed him and find him things to do, because I have at least some shred of responsibility in me and I'm not quite prepared to wallow in self-pity to the extent of letting him suffer. I'm not sure what else I can do, though. I don't really want to do anything. I have nothing to aim for, no clue of what I might enjoy. I have a new D&D book I don't feel like reading right now and even a Cadbury's Creme Egg I don't feel like eating. I don't want to have to be strong and supportive because other people need me, and I don't want to keep saying I'll be ok when I feel anything but, and I don't want to keep making excuses for my feelings because "I'm depressed" or "it's the meds" or whatever the reason is doesn't matter: it doesn't change how I feel right now.
Rambling, yes, crying, just about, coping? Fat chance. But I'll live. Or at least, I'll continue to exist. It doesn't feel like living, but maybe tomorrow it will.