Alive but at what cost
Hey folks.
Haven't been around for a while now. Wanted to drop by and say a quick hello, that I'm still alive. I'm afraid my last post was a bit on the dramatic side, and since then I've been meaning to write a bunch here to bury that, but alas. That didn't happen.
Ever since I got back home from C. City I've been weird. Partner threw a pizza party with the neighbors (where he cooks the sauce and makes the pizza dough and we all just sit around enjoying ourselves bc he has a method and can't stand ppl around him) against my will and I was forced to interact. I cannot tell you how un-interactive I've been for the past couple of weeks. It's like I barely wanna hear my own voice, let alone have a dialogue. I was grumpy for like half the time but ended up enjoying myself. That's the issue with me: shutting down is so easy and comfortable for me, if I'm not forced out of my shell, I'll just isolate completely.
It's kind of ironic, honestly. When I met my partner over 10 years ago, he barely left the house or had any real friends. Meanwhile I was out every weekend with friends, drinking and partying, and now our roles have sort of reversed. I became a master homebody and he's the one forcing me to go out, walk around in the park, go to the gym (!!), have friends over for pizza... What the hell, you know. And he's autistic, I'm not.
Oh how the turns have tabled.
I've been disliking myself a lot. I've been missing myself a lot. I miss who I used to be. I look at pictures from six, seven years ago and it's like I'm somebody else. I'm starting to dislike my body, my clothes, everything that encapsulates me. I wish I was ether and didn't have a body, tbh. I hate having to feed myself and wash myself and take care of this body. Hate it. It's an astronomical chore for me. It shouldn't be, but it is.
I've been reading fanfic again. I've written fanfic, ten years after my last one (it was His Dark Materials btw). I think my brain is truly desperate, grasping at straws for dopamine. Idk. My Boox Palma has been my haven, the best way for me to absolutely shut down my own existence.
Life has become an afterthought, if I'm honest. I try to think about it as little as humanly possible.
But more than anything, I wish I had something other than depression to share with the world. I've had a dysthymia diagnosis for the past ten years, but now it feels... Heavier. I still read blog posts (check my bibliography or the direct link), and I see people sharing their little hobbies, their trips, their friends and family outings, living their lives... And here I am, dragging through the mud, with nothing to share but sourness, doesn't matter how many friends and family and cats I have around me. Hooray.
It's been pretty bad. But I gotta keep going I guess. Got cats to feed and a façade of normalcy to maintain ("I'm fine just tired").
Anyways, hope you're having a good one. Keep blogging. I like reading them.
Toodles.