Same Shit, Different Day

I am living in the movie Groundhog Day.  Every day is the same.  This fucking winter is never going to end.  Get up, drink coffee, sit in front of therapy light for an hour, wonder what in the fuck I am going to do for the rest of the day . . . it’s GREAT!  How did I ever live with responsibilities?  A job?  I’m not for sure but I think I *may* have the winter doldrums.  Why write?  What IS there to write?  I get up.  I take medicine.  I go through the motions.  I pee  I poop.  Woo!  This is LIVING!!  I’d say I need another trip to Florida for a temporary lifting of the SAD symptoms, but the re-entry into winter last time was so harsh, I don’t know if I can take it again!  Underlying everything is the fear of ending up in the mental hospital.  Yes, that same mental hospital where I kind of burned up my bridges with gasoline and a cigarette.  See, the last time I went for maintenance ECT, they kept me waiting for more than an hour, and I flew into a rage, called my ride, started to leave, they came out to get me as I was leaving, and I cussed them the fuck out.  It was only appropriate!  Don’t keep me waiting for an hour!!  I was more mad for my Mom, who was going to pick me up, and would be waiting an extra hour.  I can just see me showing up in the hospital, and them saying “Hey, let’s shock the shit out of you again!” and me showing up in the ECT room where I bitched them out, and being forced to have treatment.  And eat shit for being such an asshole.  All my fears.  So this is why I get up, and take my medicine, and go through the motions every day.  Why I sit in front of my therapy light an hour in the morning and an hour at night.  Why I exercise every day.  I just want to stay out of the mental hospital!  I wish I could say I had loftier goals, but this is what I’m living for right now.  Just to stay sane and non-suicidal.  It’s a tightrope I walk that’s balanced by daily actions that I take, whether I want to or not, even if I’m sick to death of going to that fucking health club, I get in there and move.  I sit in front of that fucking light and try to entertain myself.  No, I haven’t tried masturbating while sitting in front of the light.  Thanks for the idea.  Just saying “entertain myself” gave me the idea.  I hardly even have the desire to entertain myself!  Ok well . . . one day at a time, one workout at a time, one pill at a time, I will get through this fucking winter.  Sing it with me now “I will survive!  Hay-HAY!”

18 thoughts on “Same Shit, Different Day

  1. I had to google what a therapy light was, never seen or heard of them before, very interesting

    I wish you all the best, I get out of bed for my dogs .. they mean the world to me

  2. I know, it feels like the most menial of tasks that have to be done, day by day by day. Just to survive. And then I compare myself to the ordinary folk and what they accomplish and I feel like such an asshole going “no you don’t understand I HAVE to be in bed by 9pm”. But on the bright side…. there’s bubble baths and eating carbs and giving yourself a hand…..uhhh, as in round of applause? ;P

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