Just back from a twilight walk (twilight is about 4.00pm here at the moment). It was only for twenty-five minutes, but it was a real struggle.
I just feel like a mess today, completely drained and depressed and worried about the future. I also feel run down, like I’m coming down with a cold, which doesn’t help (it could actually be a cold, but depression can make me feel like this too). I still have a long to do list, having achieved very little over the “holiday” time before my new job starts, which wasn’t really supposed to be a holiday for me. I spend time when I should be sorting these things feeling too depressed and drained to care about shopping, bank accounts or pensions, which is wrong of me or at least not good of me.
I probably shouldn’t have sent that email to the Aish.com agony aunt.
I probably shouldn’t think the internet can substitute for real personal interactions (real world interactions are much harder, though).
I probably shouldn’t think I can get anything right.
I probably shouldn’t be here at all.
I don’t believe I’ll be happy this year, or any year.
I don’t think I want to die, I just want to be happy, but I don’t know how. I don’t really know how to die either, but it’s certain to happen at some point, unlike being happy.
I don’t want to die, but why does living have to be so painful?
I hate this blog. I hate my writing.
What does it say about me that the only things I get praised for (my writing, my rapport with children) are things I don’t believe are true and, in the case of my writing, actively dislike?
I’m feeling a lot of loneliness and self-hatred today. I wonder why anyone reads the trivial, tedious, negative things I write. I wonder if I will ever be loved, or happy (the two seem to go together, although maybe they don’t).
My Mum is upset by how I’m feeling today, but I struggle to understand what she is feeling. I cognitively know she is upset, but it’s hard to feel it. That could be autism or depression. I blame myself and feel more guilty. Why do I always have to ruin things for everyone else?
My sister wants me to come and see her new house mid-renovation on Sunday and I’m already feeling upset about it, partly for understandable (I think) reasons that I won’t go into now, but also because I’ve already seen the house once pre-renovation and will see it when it’s all done and I wonder how many times I have to go and see this house and end up feeling terrible that I’m never going to get married and own a house. And then I feel guilty for feeling that too.
My parents said that 2018 was a good year for me, but that seems to be based mainly on my solo trip to New York. They think I made the right decision leaving my job in further education, but I’m not so sure. They’re optimistic about my finding a permanent new job and getting a firm autism diagnosis, but I’m not sure about that either.
I can’t find the words to fit what I feel right now. Alexithymia is awful when writing is your only release of emotions. I wish someone loved me romantically. But I know I probably couldn’t cope if someone did. I know people care about me in other ways, but I spend a lot of time avoiding them or inadvertently being rude to them because I can’t cope with it and don’t know how to respond.
I don’t know how much of that last paragraph is true. I really don’t understand my feelings today. Alexithymia is, indeed, awful.
I can’t cope with my feelings. They overwhelm me.
I can’t cope with my guilt. It overwhelms me.
I feel that I’m such a terrible person, that nothing good will ever happen to me, that nothing good deserves to happen to me. I wish I could explain more (because I deserve to be publicly shamed), but don’t have the guts