I have this uncontrollable urge to pretend that I am okay. That everything is fine. No one is wanting to hear day after day that I am only meh. In 23 days I have had 7 good days and 14 meh days and 2 bad bad days. Which means at the moment I have a 75/25 split between meh and good days. Better than 100% meh.
The urge to pretend comes from the fact that I know how I sound. Like a broken record. When asked how I am, I weigh the pros and cons of telling the truth or to lie. Who wants to sit through another boring litany of my sorry life. How I am having anxiety attacks. How for last 18 hours I again have not been able to stop crying. Lucky is driving me insane with her need to be right on top of me. At the moment she is sitting as close to me as she can without actually being on top of the keyboard. Even in this I sound like I am whining.
I put up a front. When I am alone it is easy to just remove myself by watching t.v. or playing games on the computer. When T is here I have to be present, push myself to look after him and I can do it. I live for when he comes home. I have been lax in the meal department. Well vegetables anyways. T will not eat my salad and I eat salad with everything so Sunday he only had farmer burgers for supper and last night chicken burgers. I had oatmeal.
It is easier not to burden people with how I feel. For when I am like this, when I feel like all I am doing is annoying everyone, I pretend. Pretend that everything is okay. Pretend that I am happy. I vacillate between being high and falling low. I am so all over with my emotions some times I do not know which way is up. I would give anything to not be like this. Everything I write is negative sounding. I reread what I have typed and it sounds like I am ungrateful for the people around me. I am not. I do not want to hurt them which is why I carefully consider what I am going to answer with.
Do I tell you I am having a rough morning? Or do I lie and say ok? I no longer know. I only know that if feels to me as though when I tell someone things are not that great, suddenly there are no more texts. So I am beginning to believe that I should just remain quiet. That my sadness, my pain is my own.
And it is my own. No one can share it with me. No one can shovel it away to ease my burden.
To pretend or not to pretend? That is the question.
****Written and posted last year on FB showed up on my memories. Hard to realize that I was in the midst of my depression at that time and could not see it.***
I work really hard not to be that woman
that family member,
the one everyone speaks about in whispered tones;
the one who seems to be so needy.
Did I tell you about my shitty week?
I held it in as I listened to your day,
as I held your hand when you cried with fear.
I smiled and nodded
and swore it would be alright;
never once letting you see my pain.
I cried myself to sleep again….
I am strong.
I am independent.
I can take care of myself.
But there are times…not many, but some
where I am the one who needs to be held.
I smile coyly,
my tone so snide
driving you away so that burning tide…
I can ignore it…
I can pretend…
That like always I am okay…