Sunday, January 17, 2016

Hermit Mode Has Kidnapped Me

Well that didn't work the way I wanted it to, but that's ok we move on, we don't sit and wallow.  It's funny but it doesn't feel like wallowing when there is no on to see you feeling down.  I don't know what's wrong, but I keep hearing myself say one more day, and then back to normal.  One more day of feeling blah, and then pop back, right with the world.  Why do I always sound British in my mind when I'm trying to give myself a pep talk?  Probably from all that Doctor Who. 

Ok so lets talk about what has gone right.  Lets see, Mr. Hopeful and I have started watching Football together.  Its fun. More fun that football alone, and I really did have fun watching with him over the Internets last night.  And will again today.  It seems like he's serious in wanting to try on friendship with me.  And I asked for this so it better be what I want.  Or at least what I need.  Lets focus on what I need. 

Mr. Practicle and I managed to get in a couple of Dr. Who long distance and on a two week period where I promised I'd leave him alone to write.  But in fairness I only reached out for advice once he reached out the other time.  So I've been good when I needed to talk.  And I'm proud of that.  Maybe more Doctor Who soon.  I wanted to write, I felt it coming on, the characters yammering inside my head.  But the numbness took over, and when that is in me, there is nothing else.  Hermit mode.

The Poet In My Heart has had an incredibly busy week and I miss her company.  I miss hearing about her day to day.  It makes me feel more centered to understand that she's going through the same types of daily bullshit that I am.  Or have.

And I've been thinking about She of Little Combat Boots and her family a lot, and missing them.

That Guy seems to only contact me right before gaming or not for weeks, and I miss his insight.  

But I'm sitting here in my internest, knowing I have to go out and get laundry change so I can do some laundry today or tomorrow, and knowing that I haven't left my internest since Wednesday and I can already hear myself talking myself out of going.  It's so cozy, especially when you add how cold it is outside and how nothing ever hurts me here.  Well that's not entirely true.  Not anymore.  So I tried to fight it, and now I'm self medicating and that's not working, but I don't stop because I don't see a reason to stop.  And it feels good, so the hippie in my soul says, relax, chill, one more day.  The gypsy in me says get up and get one thing done outside.  Don't stay in hermit mode until Tuesday.  That's five days, and while a couple of those days I was feeling a little sick and headachy, certainly not well enough to be at work, but not sick enough to be in bed, that on the border sick where you know you're contagious but most of us go to work anyway.  Well this time i decided not to.  This time i decided my health was more important.  It should always be, but I admit that I've gone to work sick before, I bet you have too. 

Why don't we think of ourselves first all the time?  I mean why are we so considerate of others feelings first?  Too nurturing.  I give of myself hoping someone will give back to me.  But I find myself always filling others cups and mine is still empty.  I've been trying to figure out whats wrong with me, why I still feel so blue, when the time for this has long passed.  I've never been one to feel sorry for myself.  But I think that may be what I'm doing.  And I hate myself for it.  I need a distraction, but I don't want to leave my apartment.  Netflix is my company.  If I could get a company to deliver me change, I'd call them.  LOL  no seriously, I'd call them.  I think the problem is that I don't know what the problem is.  I know I need to talk about something but I don't know what it is.  I have five good friends and a two children I could call and talk with anytime.  But I don't pick up the phone.  The thing about depression is that when you have it you are scared to reach out to your friends, even though you know you need to. 

Why am I so afraid to talk?  Why am I so afraid of what I'm feeling?  And why can't I put it into words?  The more I think on it the closer I'll come to the truth.  I will finish coffee and I will go outside.  And I will not stay in this comfortable cage all day.  At least it's clean. 

Cheers