Well, I had a mental evaluation today.. one of the many steps of filing for disability. The Doctor seemed nice and all, but she clearly had to read from a script which annoyed me. She asked me probably a million questions and I completely lost my train of thought. I don’t know how many times I said “um” or “wait, what?” and tried to reprocess her questions.. She asked me what I had for dinner last night and it took me almost 5 minutes to remember I had hamburger helper… that was only after thinking about yesterday, what David wrote on the “menu” then back to David, then remembering we had a fight, then remembering the fight was about green beans, and then finally oh yeah it was stroganoff. I started to cry a few times during her interview because I just couldn’t make my brain work right. I couldn’t keep eye contact with her because it was making me uncomfortable so I awkwardly stared at random things, anything to avoid looking at her. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to write about this.. but I am…
I feel like she was annoyed with me, maybe thinking I was seriously nuts, maybe wanting to lock me away in a loony bin, or maybe she just thought I was playing her… I wish I was that would be so much easier. I just sit here day after day wanting it to go away, wishing I had something to make it happen. Then it pulls me back to the darkness. The thought that hey, I could make it go away, not just for me but for everyone. Killing myself would make it stop forever. I would never see another weird shadow, hear what people are saying about me, or be the loner who sits on her ass all day while her husband is out working his butt off. I think about it all the time. How easy that would be. How I would never have to deal with anything ever again and most of all, No one would have to deal with me.
There are the very few friends who have read my “more of a burden” post and confronted me about it. Thank you, guys, for your concern, but you and I both know I’m not going to do it…. As I said in the last post I couldn’t put David through that again, or my mom… I did make up my mind though that if I ever did do something like that I would at least leave a note so everyone knew why, what was going through my head, why I didn’t talk to them about it. etc. but it doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t do it.
They say “when it rains, it pours.” I guess the saying goes for the depression, the psycho moments, and the darkness that comes along with it as well.