“Man can survive about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope.”
I talked to my mom last night and she mentioned that my last blog post made me sound depressed. My answer “I am depressed mom.” I honestly feel worse now that I have this entire time. This morning I figured it out. I heard Avery and Delaney and Lyz get up. Heard them go downstairs and told myself to get out of bed and go with them. But I didn’t.
I heard them get ready to go to an Easter Egg hunt and told myself to get up and go with them. But I didn’t.
I laid in bed and cried instead. This isn’t something I have done a lot of. I normally try very hard to stay out of my room and only allow myself to let the tears take over in the middle of the night. Lately, I haven’t felt strong enough to do it. As I laid there this morning listening to Delaney and Avery chat together, I tried to figure out what changed.
I doubt myself.
From the moment she dropped me off at CLAD’s there was a tiny voice inside my head screaming at me “YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS!” and I believed it. For some reason the voice has gone quiet. I’m starting to doubt my ability to survive this. I am fighting for every breath I take. When I look in the mirror I see how dead my eyes look. They have no emotion in them anymore.
*I feel the urge to break in here and make sure you understand that I am using the word survive, not live. I know that I will live through this. I am not going to die. I just don’t know if I, Me, Heidi, will survive this.*
I catch myself staring at things a lot and having no idea what is going on around me. Last night Lyz and I were watching tv and I couldn’t follow the plot because I kept…I don’t know how to word it, getting lost? I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t feeling, I wasn’t there mentally, just physically.
For the first time in 13 weeks I am starting to doubt myself. Doubt my strength. Doubt my desire to carry on. And I don’t know how to fix it. I even poured out all of my Prozac last night and counted the pills to make sure I have been taking them daily. Yep, there is the right amount left until my next refill is due.
I need to figure out where the doubt came from and squash it. I want to survive. I don’t want to let this kill my spirit. Yes, I gave 15 years of my life to something and have nothing to show for it. All that is left is memories now. And memories used to be my most prized possessions. Now I hate them. I wish I didn’t have them. When silly little memories get triggered I want to shun them and hide from them. They make each nerve in my body scream in pain and shrink back from the survival instinct.
Oh how I dream of amnesia. But then I doubt even amnesia would help.