Did you ever have one of those nightmares when you're in danger and want to run but can't move at all? I never have.
But that's what I'm feeling like right now. I just can't move.
I've been wanting to write a post for a couple of days, this idea "dream paralysis" or whatever it's called has been lurking in the back of my mind. And yet I can't seem to move. Even to type, to get the thoughts out. Even as I type, right now, I feel my heart pound a little, my anxiety up.
My body is leaden. Everything is too much work. Schoolwork. Bathing. Finding something of substance to eat. Going to the store. Getting out of bed.
My school was on break this past week, so there was no place I had to be (except for therapy on Tuesday). Friday, C and I went into town for lunch, and went to the mall, the bulls-eye place. Halfway through the mall I could have just gone home. I had wanted to see if I could find a nice ring with the boys' birthstone -- just something simple, as a little memorial to them, but there was really nothing. No one carries much in the way of garnets. Nothing, appropriate, anyway. Maybe I should just get a couple of little bands, or something, with no stone.
So, I think this is probably a good indication that I made the right decision to stay in school this semester, just to have someplace to go. A schedule to follow. A commitment to keep. But I feel like I'm getting so little out of it. this is my doctoral program -- I should be invested in it, I should be up to my eyeballs in work and research, and planning papers and going to conferences. But it's all I can do to show up, let alone really dig into the work.
I'm having trouble caring about it, my field of research. This thing I can't shut up about, normally, I just can't even think about it right now. I know part of this is depression, and grief. But who knows how long it will last? And what if we want to try for more kids? Will I be sick all the time again? Will I wind up on bed rest? Will I even care about this freaking degree?
There's a part of me that just wants to give it up. Just drop the classes I'm taking and give it some time, until I feel better, and more invested in the work. But I can't do that. We can't afford to live on just C's stipend and financial aid. I would have have to work, likely at something mindless. That would just piss me off daily. At least where I am there are people who care about me and whom I care about, people doing good things. Opportunities to use my brain, occasionally.
It just seems to have lost meaning for me, I guess.
This is so depressing. I don't know how to end this on an up-note. I'm so tired of feeling so down all the time. And it's all I can write about. All the time. My writing teacher would say to just keep writing. Get it out so you can get past it. I'm so tired of feeling this way, and the idea of feeling good feels alternately scary (anxiety-provoking) and/or impossible. When I do have a good moment, it feels a little freaky, like suddenly I'm aware that I feel okay, almost normal, and that freaks me out. Like if I feel good for any length of time, I'm going to get smacked down with something else, something bad. Very healthy.
Okay, I'm going to try to get up and find something to eat. Right now there is a small cat curled up against my leg. Another dozing in her perch at the window. The sun is making the sky bright, and in the distance, I think I hear birds. Maybe spring is coming after all.