This week has been so intense. And so busy and full on. And it’s funny, I recently read a post by another blogger and I made a connection in my head, that I’m often stupidly busy.
And I wondered aloud whether there is a direct correlation between how busy I am and how badly things are for my mental state.
As I feel like there is. That dawning realisation that my busy-ness is actually keeping me alive somehow. Because when I’m busy, I have commitments. And when I have commitments I feel responsible for things and I feel so much guilt about not completing them or leaving people in the lurch, that I’m stuck here until I’ve seen them through.
I never really noticed that before. Even though I constantly get people asking me how I do all the things I do.
How I cope with the workload I create for myself.
And honestly sometimes I want to crumple in a pile on the floor and sob that I’m not coping. I can’t do this anymore and all I want is to be dead….. and sleep forever….. but I don’t.
I paste on a bright smile and I laugh lightly and go with something along the lines of ‘gosh I don’t know, you just do it because it needs to be done ya know?’
Internally I’m second guessing every choice. Wishing my life was different. But externally I look like I have everything together.
Internally, every night I wonder what the fastest and easiest way to commit suicide is. But externally I appear comfortable and competent.
Internally I’m a fucking mess who can’t adult. Not even slightly. And if a real adult saw my thoughts they would know I’m a fraud – a petulant and sometimes irresponsible teenager inside an adults body. Because externally I run three companies, have multiple children at home, am supervising property developments, managing rental properties, volunteering for charity work and for the school and kindy committees….
Internally I wonder how the fuck our companies make money and I get so anxious about decisions I sometimes just get irrationally angry and switch off. Externally I look cool, calm and collected and I act like a #bossbitch who doesn’t let anyone push her around or walk all over her.
How do you reconcile those two things? Really?
I describe myself as a high functioning sufferer of anxiety and depression.
Because in the past I’ve suffered crippling depression where I didn’t get out of bed for six weeks. And that was non-functioning depression.
This time, I make myself get up every day even though I want to stay in bed. I force myself to bed even though insomnia has me blogging at 1am. I make myself pretend life is a bed of roses when I’m falling apart.
I take a xanax and ‘cope’ with life. Or a sleeping tablet. But I try not to use them often I save them for when I’m desperate.
Because one of my fears is addiction. And another is not being able to control my fears. So I need those meds to work and I’m so scared of building any sort of tolerance to them I only allow myself a half tablet at once and never more than once a week. The rest of the time I suffer in silence. Never telling a soul how every day I want to die.
How I long for a cliff I could drive off and into the ocean forever.
And if it literally wasn’t for my children, I wouldn’t be here now. But I cannot break their hearts. They are my anchor. At least for now. But I’m scared of the day when that’s not enough…..