I’m having a hard time. The weekend was not good, and today isn’t starting out any better. I’m trying my best to remain positive, but the depression is trying very hard to get the best of me. It’s all I can do not to let the mood overwhelm me and drag me down into the depths again.

The loneliness is really getting to me. I did manage to meet up with a couple of friends this weekend so I can’t say I was completely alone, but the majority of the time I was. I know I have to learn to be happy with myself and be able to be happy when I’m alone, but too many things have happened recently that are too difficult to overcome. There are things I can do to fill up the time, but I just don’t have the energy to get them started. I spent the weekend wandering around the house, watching TV, and obsessively but fruitlessly checking my email for some kind of contact. I also tried to sleep as much as I could and spent a good bit of time napping. Not the best way to deal with this I know, but there just didn’t seem to be another way.

I’m thinking way too much and my overactive imagination has taken over. Problems which in reality are not a big deal keep growing and becoming worse. Spending the last two days fretting over how little work there is to do now I fully expect to lose my job this week. I keep trying to tell myself that even if it does happen I have a plan and will be able to survive for some time, it still terrifies me to be unemployed again. I can’t sleep. In spite of the fact my evening medications are sedating I just can’t seem to get more than six hours of sleep every night. I’m tired all the time, which doesn’t help me cope any better with anything. I’ve realized that what I’ve always felt was just being ‘out of sorts’ is really high anxiety, and recently they’ve turned into full bore panic attacks. My chest hurts, it’s hard to breathe and I feel like I’m going to die. It’s truly a miserable feeling and makes it that much more difficult to deal with all the negatives pulling me down.

I’m no longer in a relationship, and I really worry about ever having anything meaningful ever again. One after another, every relationship I’ve had has failed because of my illness. How can I expect to meet anyone who can accept me and my disease and be able to put up with the fluctuations of mood? I really feel like damaged goods. I’m getting older, and the more time that goes by, the less likely I’ll ever find a lasting relationship. Past relationships are haunting me too. I see ex wives and girlfriends moving on, able to find healthy relationships all too quickly after me. It really hurts, and just increases my feelings of inadequacy.

There were some good things that happened this weekend. I attend a mental health support group, and one of the leaders invited me out for dinner on Friday night. It was a really nice thing to do, and made me feel good to know that there was someone who cared enough to make the effort. I also met an old friend for dinner Sunday night. It’s always nice to connect with friends, but I’m afraid that I was so down by the time we met that I’m sure I was no fun to be around. I have very few friends, so I always worry that my behaviors are going to drive away the ones I have. Writing remains a really helpful coping tool too. Not only the process of organizing my thoughts, but I have hope that what I have to say is going to resonate with someone and help them cope with their own issues. That’s ultimately the reason I write. And it provides at least some contact with the outside world. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I put a lot of emphasis on keeping up with the number of ‘hits’ on my site. Seeing how many are reading my words is validating. I do worry though that I’ll lose the ability to present my ideas and feeling, and start publishing poor work and losing the interest of others. It’s become important to me that I do a good job.

I’m trying my best to remain upbeat and positive, but it’s really hard. I can’t help but ask myself why. Why me? Why did I have to be born with such a horrible illness? Why does it have to be so difficult to get my symptoms under control? I feel like I’m doing all the right things, but I just don’t seem to be able to consistently feel better. The answer is, it was the luck of the draw. It’s no one’s fault that I have this disease. It’s not anything I’ve done or any weakness I have that causes my distress. I keep telling myself that there must be some divine purpose for my suffering; giving hope to others perhaps, or helping someone through their own circumstances. Or maybe my life might be a warning to others, what not to do to be successful. Whatever the reasons, there’s one thing that I ask myself most of all.

Why does it have to be so hard?