A Damned Tomb

I feel as if I've started over. Not in a good way, as if I'm where I was months ago, a year ago. I'm very depressed and yes, I'm taking St. John's Wort. Sometimes, depression is not for any reason that can be fixed. I have not recovered from the episode Wednesday night. Not completely anyway. It feels as if I'm standing on the edge of a pit.  My inclination is to sit down and hang on before something topples me in. Or maybe it is too late for that.

I didn't go to church today. Aside from my mental state, I am having problems with the arthritis in my back, hands, and feet. My feet feel crushed when I get up. And my hands, particularly my dominate left, feel the same way off and on. I'm using Valtoran on them as well as my knees and back. It does seem to help but it takes several hours and there is no permanent fix.

I don't really know what to do with myself. Take eating lunch alone today. I couldn't wait to get out of the restaurant. Or thinking about going somewhere alone. I was looking at Mammoth Cave as a destination. It's about an hour from here. I used Google Earth because you get such great definition in the map and you can zoom in and it will show landmarks, historical sites, parks, hotels and well, everything. Problem is when I do that and see how very beautiful it is I realize I can't go there. There is no sense seeing anything that you can't share. It is pointless, at least to me.

People wonder why I take my children everywhere, even now that they are adults. It is because the pleasure of seeing someone you care about enjoy something, of sharing that pleasure with them is what makes living bearable. A sunset means nothing if you are sitting by yourself. A forest is just a bunch of foreboding trees if you walk alone. I don't know why people think I can just pack up and go somewhere by myself and expect me to do anything but sleep for days. I can do that here, in my house, free. I do it every day.

I don't want to go anywhere. That hasn't changed. I see very little purpose. I can do everything in a hotel room I do here except here the kitchen is open 24 hours if I want it to be. And if I feel like screaming and hitting the walls I can and there are no complaints. Yes, I have. And I don't have to be nice and smile and pretend I'm a nice person having a great time. I don't have to lie and say I'm fine just to get everyone off my back. I'll give you an example. People call and say "what are you doing." If I tell the truth and say, "Nothing" they don't like it. They don't get it. They expect you to be doing something, reading, writing, walking, talking, working at some mindless activity, watching t.v. I do none of those things most of the time. I do nothing. I'm usually doing what I'm doing right now. I am sitting here and the only thing I've done is sit and stare at the room since I got up at 9:30, read a devotional, prayed for about 30 minutes, read a couple of blogs, went to and came home from lunch alone, played two games of solitaire and wrote this post. That's in 6 hours. I don't know what I did with the rest of the time. I just sat here.

But no one wants to hear me say that is all I've done. I'm doing nothing but sitting on the sofa in the living room looking at the walls and photos. People want me to talk. I have nothing to say, really. They want you to be "normal". To laugh, tell jokes, smile, talk about stuff. I just ate a brownie and am drinking coffee. No, not homemade, out of a box. Yes, with walnuts. Yes, it was fine. Same coffee as usual. Yes, I'm going to attempt church. I feel fine. I don't know what everyone else is doing. Yada, yada, yada, yada. I've had three calls that went the same way. I listened. I hung up and went back to staring at the walls. No, there is no one to talk to, to share a joke, to ask questions, to plan a trip, or most terribly, no one to respond when you say "remember when".

Yes, I lived in a damned tomb.