You know. It's the feeling that you get right after Christmas. All that work and then it's all over in a matter of hours and you wonder why the hell you worked so hard in the first place.
I spent the long weekend with overwhelming times of letdown. Not all the time because that's dumb. But some of the time when I had a moment to think and reflect; my letdown was laughing at me.
I've worked really hard in the past month or so. I've cleaned out mental closets. I've faced some huge fears. I've unpacked long overdue boxes. I have said some very difficult goodbyes. I have even been good, for the most part, about taking my meds.
After all that I thought I would feel better. Even happy. I looked forward to this long weekend. I kept telling myself keep going, it will be so nice to have a happy and peaceful weekend.
It wasn't a terrible time. I had the tiniest moments of happiness. But it certainly was not what I expected. What a letdown. That's when disappointment set in like a black cloud.
That black cloud? A close neighbor to my standard issued rain cloud of depression. Mix in some thundering anxiety and some lightening strikes of pain and I have the perfect storm of mental illness once again.
I waffle between stupidity and embarassment. How stupid of me to expect happiness. Embarassment over that expectation of more than a passing relief.
It's hard to not be disappointed. Why the fuck would I work so hard while expecting some relief? I have very little to show for that work and that borders on pathetic. I guess it's time to lower my expectations before I get hurt again.
“Shall I Crucify Your King?” #UNITE Linky
22 hours ago