Depression, denial

Losing Duncan and having my mother nearly choke to death in front of me in the span of a month left an emotional wound that's still not fully scarred over. I spent a lot of years shoving my emotions aside, shoving physical pain aside, setting my mind on a goal and making it happen come fevers, colds, joint pain and brain fog. I do not truly have the skills to cope with that much grief and fear, though I am working toward coping better.

I've spent a large portion of 2016 moving forward because I'm too stubborn to quit, not moving forward because I had hope or joy. I took Keeper to museums and waffled furiously on if I'd enjoy WorldCon or if a convention was a horrible idea. But I went for it- the museums, big stores, WorldCon- because I was, and am, unable to back down gracefully.

I hurt, a lot, physically and emotionally, and that lovely tango of one leading into the other. I was back to work, sleep, eat and not much else unless it was prep for something. Then I'd go all out on that thing and be left with no emotional reserves for self-care and compassionate thought.

For me, depression is mostly lies my brain tells me- that I'm not good enough, that I could have done something (because then I would be in control and can do it better/different/somehow have fixed it). Basically, for me, I victim blame myself when I'm depressed. I fall into the headspace that if I tried harder, my body wouldn't be as fucked up as it is; that if I only found the right things to do, I'd be, if not happy, content.

My shrink and I have been working on this all year. I hate sitting with my emotions. I hate that my emotions are not logical, and that I really have little control over them. I want to do things and ignore how I feel. I want goals I can achieve. I want to not hurt, and I want Duncan back. And then I get depressed all over again when I still hurt, still have limitations, still don't have Duncan.

And that's not healthy, but that's why I go see my shrink every two weeks or so. I am not able to maintain a reasonable outlook on life myself. I'm working toward it, with help. Meanwhile, Keeper is keeping me on my feet, picking up the things I drop, and napping with me when there's nothing else I want to do more than sleep.

When I hit full denial and want to do all the things and ignore my limits, she's right there, too. Still being my ballast, still fetching, still solid and reliable. I love her for that, even when I can't find it in me to even like myself.