So. In looking back at my previous entries. And also the apps I used to help monitor my depression and anxiety. It is very, very clear that I have been doing very poorly for the past month. Likely longer.
Truthfully, I’m still not okay.
Given that my last entry was yesterday. And I was distraught the entire day. I was either in bed or curled up on the couch or doing everything I could to distract myself. I forced myself to eat, and then eat again when it didn’t stay down. I took short naps. I had tea. I did a lot of things that I needed to for self care. Including going to bed early.
None of it stopped the panic attack that happened at two in the morning. Or the paralysis and fear that lasted for maybe 20 to 30 minutes. Nothing seemed to help the silent screaming as I fought my brain to stop telling me that I couldn’t move my limbs because a demon was trying to consume my energy. Which was stupidly harder than it should be.
I couldn’t stay in bed at that point. Or in my apartment. So I changed into real clothing and snuck out of my apartment. I don’t know why I was sneaking. But none the less I left as quietly as I could. Got in my car. And just drove without really thinking about where I was going. So when I saw the ocean. I was kind of surprised? One because I don’t remember the drive at all and how am I alive. But because listening to the waves crashing on the beach had this instant calming effect that I desperately needed.
I stayed listening to the ocean for a while before I realized that I could scream. I could yell at out every frustration and depressed thought and every bad thing that has been growing in festering in me for the gods know how long. And the ocean wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t get offended. It wouldn’t get hurt. It wouldn’t think I am crazy or insane or judge me or tell me I needed to calm down or that I had nothing to be depressed about because my life is actually pretty good. And people are dying and starving in Africa or Russia and what do I have to complain about.
So I yelled. I screamed and I yelled and I shouted and at one point my pants came off and I kicked the water. And promptly had a shell or a rock smack me back. It was so cathartic. It was like with each pull of the tide a little piece of poison got pulled out of me and released into the abyss. I cried. But I didn’t feel the sorrow and weight that’s been pressing on me for weeks.
I apologized to the ocean. It helped me. And I was kind of a dick to it.
I can’t say that I am better. I am still not okay. I still am upset at the sudden loss of someone I loved dearly. But I got to get something out of me in a not harmful way (unless you count lack of sleep as harmful – but insomnia is working against me there).
I am going to try and find something that makes me happy once a day. And probably post it on Twitter.
I’m going to find a reason to smile every day.
Today it’s the ocean. And the relief it gave.
Shpunkey 