today's weather: S L I G H T D E P R E S S I O N anxiety : 1
agitation : 1
I have no idea if this has anything to do with the half-bag of Cheetos I consumed yesterday, or if this is all purely chemical.
I know I'm depressed today and not just sad, mainly because there's nothing to be really sad about. I know it's a depression because my energy is low, my mind is hazy, and I'm feeling quite anxious and agitated.
No fair. :( I was just getting the hang of the recent upswing.
This morning I had trouble getting out of bed again; not only was I feeling fatigued but I had a severe difficulty in finding a reason to get up.
I noticed the descent last night as I went to bed. For one thing, I felt exhausted and wanted to sleep earlier than I usually do. Indication of low energy. For another, I noticed I kept saying the words I'm tired and I don't want this anymore. I realized those are my usual depression reflex mantras. The contentment I had been feeling until the other day was fading.
I felt like I was enveloped by a heavy shroud of hopelessness. I had all of a sudden lost my purpose to live again - I know I had it just a couple of weeks ago, strong and clear. I searched my mind for it as I waited for sleep to overtake me, and found it, but it was all watered down and irrelevant. The yell of fervor in my heart at the beginning of the year had been muffled into a mousy whimper.
Darn this.
There was another obvious sign last night. I entertained the thought of slitting my jugular vein with my craft blade. I savored the idea, swished it around, let its various flavors seep in. I had just enough leftover manic courage from the previous elevation, and just enough decrease in wonder and hope due to the incoming depression. I felt like I could actually do it.
The pen-blade sat in a basket under my purse on the shelf, just a few steps away. I mulled over doing it in the morning. I would be alone with the rabbits, I think I should feed them first. I'd wear either my favorite red dress, or the lacy white one, for effect. I'd do it on the bed, feet toward the headboard. Depending on the angle of the blade, I might make a spatter on the bed or the nearby wall, like the effect in that scene in Akira Kurosawa's Ran. It would hurt, but I hope it would be quick. I wonder if the rabbits would notice. I wonder what the Hubby would do when he found me.
But I apparently didn't do it; I'm still alive right now.
Don't worry about me, I'm not really going to do it.
