I can't seem to shake this funk lately. I am tired no matter what. No matter how early I go to bed, no matter when I wake up. I have no energy. None at all. No food helps, working out doesn't help as I feel too dizzy to really do much of it before I have to sit down. I feel like I am drowning in some strange fog and I have no idea why.
I know that's probably one of those depression things. Actually, I'm a good 95% sure it's depression related. I can't believe Wednesday I go in for medication, and of course another session with J.W...
I know she can't cure things that will require medication. I just wish she could. I just wish talking to someone about everything was all I needed.
I worry if any of the kids will get this from me. Since it's pretty much a chemical imbalance type thing and is genetic so they say. Which one of the kids will end up suffering? Will I notice in time to help? Will they turn out feeling as awful about everything as I do? Will they feel like no one in their family has ever really cared about them? Will they feel never good enough?
Or am I doing any good with them?
Will I ever be good enough for them? For myself? For BF?
Why is it that "good enough" or "pretty good" is okay for everything else in the world unless it's something I'm doing?
Why can't I look at something I've done and say "that's good enough" without it meaning "I can't handle this anymore, I give up because it's crap"?
J.W. and I talked about it briefly.
I'm not sure how much further we'll get on the subject.
Maybe we'll be lucky, or maybe I'll be lucky rather and I can get out of that mind set... That good enough = awful when it's me. So it needs to be "perfect". "Perfect" is a joke..
...Just a cruel joke...
Perfection is fleating. A moment can be perfect, until you dissect it bit by bit, then you can see any tiny flaw.
There is... no... perfect.
Yet I unrealistically expect it of myself until I break down.
I've shattered the darkness by starting to get help, but I've yet to pick up more than the tiniest of pieces to rebuild myself.
How many years is it going to take?
Will I manage it?
Who will leave me along the way?
What will suffer?
Will going on meds mean bad times as we try and adjust me to something that works? Will I suffer the way I did when they kept attempting anti-depressant after anti-depressant?
I'm scared, but damnitall, I want help. I NEED help.