Right now, I'm in a state of mind that I know will terrify me later, when I've managed to re-establish some of my mental equilibrium. I won't say what's put me in this state, though I will say that an argument was involved, and that I believe that I am 100% at fault.
I feel useless, lonely, alone, hopeless, and totally worthless. I feel like I want my body to be in as much pain as my mind is at present; right now, it's taking a considerable amount of willpower to stop myself from inflicting pain with the nearest wire coat hanger or heavy book. (And I have both of these things in abundance.) I feel like if I disappeared, nobody would ever miss me; I feel like nobody would even notice for at least a couple of weeks. The scary thing is that this is what I'm feeling even after I've actually calmed down a little.
Living with depression, especially depression that's gone untreated as long as mine has, is a pain in the ass, to say the least. I know that treatment options exist; I also know that even here, in Canada, I cannot afford to seek them out, and even if I could, I wouldn't be getting treatment any time soon; in my city, we have within the past year had to withstand a reduction in mental health services, so there's quite a waiting list for help, and in any case, even the least expensive counsellor available here charges $150 per hour of counselling. That's way out of the range of what I could ever possibly afford. So, frankly, it's easier for me to stay home, save the money, and do the best I can with music, reading, writing, my volunteer work, occasional socialization (I have several particularly close friends, most of whom I don't see nearly often enough, and one with whom I typically spend several hours at the end of each week), and meditation. Usually this helps. In spite of incidents like this, I'm getting better. I haven't actually felt suicidal in about two years, though there have been times when I've felt a little more able to understand the urge than usual. (That's scary enough for me, believe me.) But I am still prone to fits of moodiness, and there still are times, like this afternoon, when something in me breaks and I find myself rapidly spiralling back down into that state of mind that I once knew so well: that mix of feelings of worthlessness, self-hatred, irritability, lethargy, and hopelessness that are the earmarks of my particular kind of depression.
The irony? Just before the argument began, the one that set off my current mental state, I was doing some research about depression so that I could write about it for another blog, one that I've set up and am maintaining for a cause that is very dear to my heart.
Mission accomplished, I think. If nothing else, in my current mood, I certainly have my inspiration.