I feel like a prisoner of my own mind.

For the past week I’ve been barely able to function like a normal person. I get tired easily, my anxiety levels are indicated by how much my left hand is shaking (and it’s visibly noticeable to others) and my concentration is shot to hell. I’ve voluntarily incarcerated myself to my bedroom – and it’s a complete wreck because I can’t summon enough effort to keep things tidy so my laundry is strewn all over the tiles and candy wrappers are liberally sprinkled around my bed.

Sometimes I get motivated to eat right (after a nice email from Jim prompted me). I made dinner for George and myself when he came and put my computer together. I had a couple of days where I felt alive. But tonight when Ness and I went to dinner at the local Viet restaurant when she popped by, I could barely stand the sound of people. The clanging of the kitchen seem inordinately loud and I wanted nothing more than to bolt back home. I am strong enough to let it pass and hide it because I know the time I was going to be there was less than an hour – but nevertheless, I felt trapped.

I am sad. I have a bitter resentment. It’s like I’m losing the war against myself with my conscious being a prisoner. My resentment stems from the fact I don’t even know how it started. I’ve listened to my doctors. I take my medication. I try so fucking hard, however it spits in my eye and laughs in my face.

Over the weekend I ventured out to a LAN to leech and on Saturday I restrained myself from breaking down into tears. I just blocked myself off by immersing myself in a solo player game and just stared blankly into the screen. Inside, I am screaming. Desperate to flee. And I don’t even know what from. No one had set me off, but in a split second my mood went from benign to terrorised. Also now I hate being touched by people. Even accidentally. It frightens me for some reason. If I didn’t make the deliberate choice to touch someone, any unexpected touch terrifies me which wasn’t great because I was in close quarters in the LAN.

I really dislike going to church. I feel trapped going there. The PA system grates on my eardrums. The ritual that I once took comfort from requires too much effort due to the constant movement. I no longer relate to anything because when I got on my meds I lost the feeling that God existed.

I’m lethargic and tired all the time and I don’t feel like doing much. I perk up at approximately midnight and then get desperately lonely at about 3am wishing I could talk to someone, but everyone is asleep. I fall asleep in the light of dawn when both my mind and body are exhausted.

I guess for positive thinking’s sake, I have the privilege of knowing how much my family loves me and supports me. My mother comes into my psych consults and she told my doctor how worried she and dad have been when I relapsed. We are not a close family, but it was just really special to hear that. My brother canceled a movie outing with his mates to drive me to the doctors because my dad couldn’t. I’m lucky that I can depend on them. Finding that out about them is wonderful.

As I told Ness today, I hate the uncertainty. I don’t know if tomorrow is going to be a good day. Hell, I don’t know if the next hour is going to be a good hour. It seems everything is futile. The next real milestone in my life is my next psych appointment – I don’t really foresee a future for myself. I have no creative energy right now. I used to see possibilities in a book, in a magazine ad, in a piece of fabric but now it’s almost too hard to bother feeding myself correctly let alone set adrift in a creative ecstasy. I’m not considering suicide (yet) but my existence seems rather aimless and pointless.

Is there really a better place that we go to after death? I ask beause it seems any place would be better than here.

I’m not really going out much these days. I don’t know when I’ll crash so I just stay home and knit whilst I play an old movie on my computer. I can feel the strain in my face after a while if when I leave the house. Most of my regular shifts are at the beginning of the month and I go to work – the small 2 hour shift exhausts me. I run on adrenaline whilst I’m working, desperate to get the job done and afterwards on the verge of collapse, I precariously drive home in a daze.

Matthew told me to meditate when things were a bit much on my brain. To recite a mantra for me to focus on. Something short and true about myself that I could concentrate on. I eventually settled on ‘I am capable’. Though I have self worth issues, I know that I’m a capable person.

In the midsts of a anxiety attack today, it kinda helped. I’ve been starting to have those more frequently these days if something that I am doing isn’t going to plan. Today has been particularly stressful for no apparent reason. My inner voice is just screaming. I wish I could make it stop. I’ve taken to causing myself a small amount of physical pain with my tailor’s awl to calm that inner voice. I have heard the hypothesis that Depression is a result of not enough physical pain in one’s life. I disagree, however sometimes the pain helps.

Despite the support of my friends and family, I feel very much lost and alone. No one can be there for me 24/7 except for Blinky (my toy koala currently garbed in a Disneyland t-shirt). It is also said that depressed people by nature are selfish, because their suffering takes precedence over all else. In a way I don’t want to be selfish by imposing my burdens on other people. Though they are happy to share with me, it gets kinda pathetic after a while. It’s fustrating especially on a Saturday night because I know they are all out somewhere and I’m trapped at home wishing I wasn’t alone.

On a positive note, I’ve finished knitting my hat.