Depression does hurt.

I have aches, pains all over my body. They only come when these all time lows hit. I vomit. I dry heave. I get the shakes...all the symptoms of drug withdrawal, without the drugs. I had to leave work again today. I called off yesterday too. I can't seem to function properly when these days walk back into my life. I wonder if I will ever be able to hold a job. I wonder when I stop being so spontaneous that my family doesn't have to worry about me from week to week. I have a headache. My stomach hurts. I am laying in a naked ball on the couch, crying over the aches and pains that are plaguing me. I know it has nothing to do with physical pain. This is what makes it all worse. You can't take an Advil and lie down to cure your depression. I took some xanax to control the tremors. It hasn't worked. The headache is pointless to try and cure. It stays so long as I am in the hole. I have a house to clean, children to take care of, a husband who is on his way home from Chicago. I have things in my life that I need to stand up for.

I can't get out of my bed.

I ache so badly. I want the hurt to stop. I have become so uncomfortable with the person I am now. I don't really like her. She's boring and weak. I miss the old me who stood up through anything and anyone. She was creative and vibrant. She didn't have pain, physical or emotional.

So why am I better off now? I have asked this on my blog a million times in hopes that someone will give me a good answer that I can take stock in. Why is this better? Why is life without mania better? My depressions have gotten bleak, darker than when I countered them with manic episodes. I feel like there was an end to the darkness because I would flash on again like a bolt of lightning.

Now, there's just dark...and darker.
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It's two hours later. I am at a loss for inspiration. I want to clean my house. I can't pull myself out of my bed. I am so tired of being a disappointment to my husband. No, he never says it. He wouldn't. But I am sure living with someone so diseased takes its toll on a "normal" person. I stood in the middle of my living room and screamed. Screamed so fucking loud that I am surprised no one called the police. I can't breathe. All I can do is listen to my vampire music and pray for myself to come out of this. I miss me. I miss writing letters to myself. I miss writing my poetry and bleeding all over my paper. I am so uninspired and so exhausted with being me. I have my music and sometimes, it feels like it is all I ever have...or need. I have a song for every pain, every ache, every symptom.

How's it gonna be...
when you don't know me anymore.
How's it gonna be.
Wanna get myself back in again
The soft side of oblivion
I want to taste the salt of your skin.
The soft side of oblivion.

This is such a simple song. Third Eye Blind. I always called it my suicide song...until they started playing it on Dawson's Creek and fucked up the whole deep meaning of the song. When the song you want to die to makes it onto a cheap ass teen drama, it's time to find another song, or at very least, decide to not kill yourself to it...or anything else for that matter.

Where am I? Have you seen me? I can't find me in this house. I am drowning here. I have a beautiful home. I have gorgeous children, healthy and smart. I have the most amazing husband. I have some great ex boyfriends who allow me to bleed on their shoulders now and then. I even have a terrific ex husband who forgave my transgressions and opted to co-parent our children to the best of our ability.

But I'm in perpetual pain. Even when I laugh, I sound like I'm crying.

This is my pen and ink. This is the only way I can write any more. I can't bring myself to hold a pen. The tremors of my hands stand in my way. I don't know if it is the medicine that is causing me to shake so violently or if I have some neurological disorder. Neither would surprise me.

The suckers lose themselves
in the games they love to play.
Children love to sing but then
their voices slowly fade away.
People always take a step away
from what they know is true.
That's why I want you around.
I want you.
Send me all your vampires.

I want to go back 10 years. 20 years. I want to fix this child. I want to raise her right, not mistaking narcissism for self esteem. I want to hold my own hand and tell me it is going to be okay. I want no regrets for this little girl. I want her mind and her soul to be one. I can't stand the constant struggle for power going on within my body. I need to make it go away...

There will be no regrets when the worms come.