Why yes, it's another whiny DiaryLand entry. Because DLand hasn't quite reached its lofty quota for the day, that's why. That and writing it out helps me be not-whiny and that's more pleasant for all parties. (Especially parties with free vodka shots.)
I feel like a pit that lets all good things drop below. Like I can't hold onto anything positive. Do I have to point out that I hate feeling this way?
It gets started because some of my relatives are going through hard times right now -- emotionally, medically, physically -- and while I already knew that life isn't fair, these things are so unfair that I want to find someone I can blame for them and scream in that person's face until I am hoarse and reduced to slugging my blame target to try to feel one tiny bit better. I wouldn't wish these series of events on the people I dislike the most, much less tolerate them happening to people I love -- except that none of us has a choice.
But what really twists the knife in my age-old wound is my knowledge that these negative happenings aren't why I could burst into tears at any moment. I'm on the edge of a depressive episode: a period of crying myself to sleep, lingering in bed for lack of enough energy to stand upright, forcing caffeine down my gullet until it makes me physically ill because that's the only way I can have any wakefulness or concentration to speak of. I wanted to leave that in the past, but again, I don't have a choice. Something -- upbringing, neurochemistry, faulty cognition; psychology hasn't reached any real conclusions -- overrides my desire for contentment with a recurring swerve into misery.
I don't have a working car, so even if I scheduled myself a counseling session, I couldn't get to it. I've asked my mom several times if she would drive me and when would be best for her, and she keeps saying sure but not telling me when. That leaves me stuck. I am asking for help because I can't snap out of this, but nobody's helping me; why, when I finally ask for what I need, does not one person give me that assistance?
I can't change anyone but myself. (I'm sorely tempted to comment that I can't rely on anyone but myself, either, but I know that's not true. If I were bleak enough that I definitely required help, my mother could notice the change before I even did, and would ask how she could help me. The fact that she hasn't suggests that this time isn't as bad as I think it is and that I can cope on my own if I just get cracking.) I've established that the major sources of stress at the moment are family events and my own psychology. I can't fix either of those alone. Maybe the best plan is to ride out the storm, keeping an eye out in case it gets worse.
I could turn up a support board, I guess. Some of the idiotic "FAQ? What FAQ?" requests drive me batty, but I do deeply enjoy helping other people -- and when it comes to websites, I'm usually a little more experienced than the average user. Fear my customised CSS! Tremble before my bugfixes!
And this would be a most excellent time to turn on my "Uplift" playlist. It consists solely of songs that make me feel good. I've been playing it a lot lately because it seems to smooth out my mood, like shaking out a blanket to tidy the bed.
For the sake of metaphor, we'll ignore the fact that my bed currently has enough crap on it to fill the trunk of a mid-size car. It's not drama (at least, until I start bitching about it all). I do know that much. But at some point I'm going to need to find the bluebird of happiness in between traumas or I'll never catch that damn featherbrain at all.
I need to write here sometime when I'm happy. Unfortunately catastrophes large and small keep happening.