A little enlightenment

Three and a half days into the tranquility of my “home aloneness” I have a revelation. First, the fore-gone conclusion that my family and their problems are almost ninety percent the cause of my extreme depression and lack of contentment is not true. Secondly, the guilt I suffer for perceiving them to be at fault adds to my depression. The truth is simply this; I am no longer functioning on the same level as before. My health is such that I am a couch potato to the tenth power. The basic needs required to be a part of the world are barely being met on my part. My daily life consists of sleeping, eating, cleaning the kitchen, TV watching and computer/Internet usage. I even consider myself an invalid. The minute I am on my feet doing any activity I become winded. So I spend most of my day sitting. The topic of my health is the proverbial “pink elephant” of any conversation. I’ll say this much, I’ve been to several doctors and none of them can agree, or without further testing, give me a proper diagnosis. To make matters worse I have more than one physical illness along with the somewhat recently diagnosed depression with a side dish of agoraphobia.

What all this boils down to is that I was once a VERY active, independent person and now…I sit, do nothing all day while my husband takes on the domestic chores that used to be mine. As I stated before, three and a half days into my family members being gone I realized that what I thought was my anger/sadness/frustration/hurt at my sister, BIL and niece is really my deep and complete bondage to illness.

Unlike my unmotivated sister and BIL, I like activity. I enjoy moving about, cleaning and just being productive. In fact, one my favorite chores is cleaning the bathroom, especially scrubbing the bathtub with Comet. When I was able to hold down a job I was quite the workaholic. I’m even frustrated now because I’m unable to really articulate how I feel and if I have to live like this for the rest of my life I certainly don’t want to live one more day in my sister’s house. On the other hand, even though my family members are total whack jobs; they don’t deserve to be blamed for all my problems.

Having to ask for help is humbling and each plea eats away at my soul. Even a meal is torment for me. It’s been over two years since I cooked a real or healthy meal. Most nights I can barely deal with Hamburger Helper or TV dinners. I sometimes just don’t eat dinner because I’m too tired to fix something for my husband and myself and I know how my husband hates to stop for fast-food.

In any case, at least I know the truth about myself, which is, my depression once thought to be aggravated only by my family is in fact just a deep sadness at my loss of mobility. There is so much more that I don’t write about on this blog. I usually just write about what sets my butt on fire at the moment but I omit other subjects that keep my brain spinning because they are too personal or someone could identify me and I don’t want to lose my anonymity.

To my friends and Internet lurkers, thanks for listening.