My Mumbling Thoughts

For the past couple months I have been sick and have not realized that yes, there is truly something wrong. I am the master of being, and staying in denial, or coming up with endless excuses for why something is wrong, but not so terribly wrong that I must go to the doctor and have it properly checked out.

I have been sad. So I've gone back in to counseling.

I have been cold, and experience a tingly feeling in my fingers from time to time. So I started taking daily women's vitamins, and eating more green vegetables.

My hair has been thinning at an alarming rapid pace. I invested in expensive shampoo and conditioner to help conceal my scalp.

I get extreme head rushes about twice a day. I drink vitamin water, and do my best not to stare directly up at things.

My memory is deteriorating more and more every day. I make a conscious effort to write everything down, and eat more fish.

I have been sluggish, and experience extreme fatigue. I allot eight hours of sleep every night and drink plenty of fluids.

To me, none of these things could all be connected to each other. I've been told by numerous people that I need to have my thyroid checked out, because all of these "symptoms" that I've been experiencing clearly indicates that it's my thyroid. Of course I've not gone to the doctor to have them examine my thyroid, because gosh, the thyroid just sounds like some kind of old person problem, and I am not old. I am twenty-five years young, thank you very much.

Of course it was the thinning hair that finally made me break down and decide that I will call the doctor and have the simple blood test to determine what it is exactly that's going on. Sure, I've been depressed these past couple of months, but my god! My hair is thinning! Now it's definitely time to have it looked at.

My depression has also taken on a new look as well. Before when I was depressed back at university, I could attribute it to being away from home, and trying to deal with all of these "problems" that I could barely cope with. However these days, my depression makes it difficult in order for me to function, or to focus on simple tasks. I sit at work, stare at my daily pile of things to do, and trying to muster up the energy to fill out a few simple forms seems insurmountable to me. It leaves me feeling defeated, exhausted, and stupid. My inner monologue doesn't help matters much either, since I am a supreme champion of verbally beating myself up and being extra hard on myself.

What is wrong with you? my inner voice says to me in a patronizing tone.

If you can't do this simple task, then maybe you should just quit. Nobody wants to work with a retard that can't keep up with something so easy. Give it to the temp. She's clearly more qualified than you, and I bet in a couple of weeks, she'll have your job, and you'll be unemployed again, living at home, and hating yourself even more. Loser. P.S....I hate your skin, and I think you've gained weight.

It's pretty harsh, and the worst part is that I believe every single word. Then I leave for the day wishing that the ceiling would collapse on top of me so I don't have to sit in an hour's worth of traffic repeating those words over and over to myself.

My counselor is a lovely lady, though, and she has been equipping me with new ways to squash those ANTs (Automatic Negative Thoughts). She tells me every two to three weeks that it's okay to not have a definite plan in life, it's okay to feel lost sometimes, and she reminds me that it's really not the destination, rather the journey. She calms my worried mind, and with some gentle tough love reminds me not to be so negative all the time. That only fuels the ANTs, and allows them to build a bigger and bigger empire inside of me.

Of course she's not there all the time, and in her absence, Momma is there to hold my head when I cry. I cry a lot more these days. I've had three breakdowns in the past month, and every time I cry I feel more defeated. Won't I be happy again? I don't even remember the last time I was truly happy. Am I in some kind of quarter-life crisis hell? Is this how it's going to be forever? Can't something just happen to make it all go away? I'm tired of feeling this way. This isn't me. This isn't who I used to be. This isn't who I want to be.

I remember back to a time when I was a bit more "put together." I remember when I was focused and didn't fret over tiny worries, and didn't let life's little hiccups get me down. I used to be so confident. I used to be so determined. I used to think I could do anything and I was so unstoppable. The optimistic Sam would look at the depressed Sam and say, "well if you don't want to be sad anymore, then why don't you just do something about it, huh?" The person I am now looks at that girl with high self-esteem and doesn't believe her for one second.

The place where I'm at right now isn't like the other dark places I've been before. It's a new kind of dark age where there aren't any lights whatsoever. A long time ago, when I was coming down off of my recent drug highs, or recovering from my alcohol binges, I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how dark my thoughts got, part of me always knew that I'd eventually find my way out, even if I never wanted to admit it.

This new dark place, however, is one that I've never experienced before. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to find my way out. It seems like I'm in the blackest house and I'm constantly banging my shins into heavy furniture. I'm not drinking anymore, I've not done any drugs since May of 2009, and so I can't blame any of this horrible feeling on anything else other than myself. It leaves me feeling even more helpless.

But I am seeking help. I'll go to my doctor this week, and we'll see what he says. I will continue with counseling, and I will remain sober all in attempts to find my way out of the dark. No matter what the outcome, I know something is medically wrong with me. Something's just not right. It doesn't feel right, and it's not been right for a very long time. One way or another, I will get out of these ongoing depressive cycles. The optimistic Sam still lives inside me, and she's not one to easily give up. Her willpower is faint, but it still flickers waiting to be lit.