DEPRESSED, AGAIN 11/4/2011 wee hours…I can’t sleep, again, as usual.
I just realized, yesterday, that my depression has returned. This royally sucks. I have been irritable since…when was it? Maybe the irritability started Tuesday and maybe that’s when the depression started as well. I have hated myself…I have hated myself all along ever since I gained weight, and this is a given considering I have anorexia. This self-hatred is simply something I have to deal with. More about this weight gain and the whole weight issue later, though.
I was irritated and annoyed about little things. People not calling me back. Having to wait all day for Dr. P to call me back. Yeah, she finally called. At like fucking 6:30pm. I called her at 8:30am. Don’t doctors know that you sit by the phone all day waiting for them to call you? I’ve dealt with this problem ever since I started seeing Dr. C in 1984, and it was even worse then, because there was no such thing as call waiting. If he called and the line was busy, he wouldn’t bother trying again. So I had to leave the phone free all day long. But I discussed this with my T yesterday, and have laid the issue to rest (obviously, I haven’t). Maybe some of you can relate.
But worse…insomnia. Sleep getting worse and worse and worrying that this will be a problem on my trip to London. Wednesday was a complete waste of a day due to Tuesday night’s insomnia. I was so, so tired, just useless, and all I could do was just lay down and take a nap, wake up again and feel crappy, stay up a while, feel crappy, and go to bed again. Repeat. I put the phone by my bed in case Dr. P called or in case anyone called, just so I wouldn’t have wicked far to go to answer it. That was my day. I didn’t enjoy my walk with Puzzle, which is very rare. I felt like I was falling into a bad, bad hole.
Dr. P recommended that I raise the Desipramine to 75. I did. I slept fine.
Then yesterday. Again, annoyed at the world, and this time, it was even worse than Wednesday, even though I’d slept well. I had to force myself to smile. Why? Because of those asshole strangers who walk up to me and say, “Smile!” when I’m not smiling. Generally, I’m not smiling because I’m lost in thought. This remark by strangers makes me feel a whole lot worse than I’m already feeling. My face was real tight and it didn’t want to smile. It was an incredible effort. Actually, I’m surprised I didn’t snap at someone, or lose my temper. I stayed polite and patient with the strangers around me despite the awful feelings I felt inside.
I managed to get to therapy okay. The session went fairly well. We talked about–what else?–my eating. I skirted around the issue. She knew right away. She’s not dumb. I’ve been restricting. I didn’t tell her outright. I just couldn’t. I kind of wanted to but couldn’t get myself to say what I really felt inside. I did say how much I hate my body. We talked about my self-hatred a lot, and she said self-hatred is useless. What did she say? “Radical acceptance.” I told her, bullshit. I wanted to tell her more than this, though. I’m supposed to just “accept” this weight as my fate? No way, I wanted to say. That is why I am restricting.
What I don’t know is if she’s put two and two together and realizes that the number on the scale is going down, down, down. Something tells me that she doesn’t know. I still can’t stand how fat I look.
I slept horribly last night and need to phone Dr. P and report this to her. Waking up about every ten to fifteen minutes since around midnight. I kept trying and trying, and finally gave up at 3am, disgusted. I went to bed around 9:30 last night.
Somehow, something has to give.