The depression and paranoia, I mean. I’m not having any suicidal ideation this time, I’m just discouraged and sad and afraid. I’ve looked at numerous options for housing—even temporary would do for now—and there don’t seem to be any that would allow Will and me to keep at least SOME of his Social Security check. That leaves the local shelter, which would mean giving up our dog as well as the cats….my God, will the losses ever stop??
I keep thinking if Will were by himself, he’d probably have better luck…..maybe one of the kids would take him in. He is a much more sympathetic figure than I am: no matter how healthy he looks, he still has cancer, and I don’t think they’d be so callous as to let him spend the winter in the cold. I don’t know where I’d go in that case—probably the shelter—but the one thing that can’t happen to him is living in the car. I’d rather be apart than have him catch pneumonia. He’s already had it once this year, and thankfully it wasn’t serious…..I don’t know that he’d be so fortunate a second time.
Here’s where the paranoia comes in. I can’t help thinking everyone is blaming me for getting us into this mess. I know—this is when I’m supposed to remind myself that my brain is lying to me, and that “everyone” has much more important things to do than worry about whose fault this cluster-fuck is. But let’s face it, it wasn’t Will’s cancer that rendered us unable to continue in our accustomed lifestyle, nor was it his doing that we’re flat broke and desperate. Nope, this one is on me and regardless of the circumstances that led us to this point, I can’t help feeling guilty about it.
Everyone knows that mental disabilities are treated much less compassionately in our society than physical ailments. Unfortunately, even mentally ill people internalize that cultural bias and are often brutal in assessing themselves, when it’s merely a matter of biology and maybe a little maladaptive thinking. (Yeah, I know…..why can’t I figure that out for myself?) But it’s hard to change that thinking when the trajectory of one’s life has gone from being functional and working to unemployed and destitute in less than a year.
Bottom line, I’m depressed and anxious again, and though I keep saying “this, too, shall pass”, there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. What I am not is suicidal. If I get that way, I’ll call Dr. Awesomesauce and let him figure out what to do about it, but for right now I’m fighting it just fine on my own. It’s OK to be depressed and anxious under the circumstances; in fact, it would probably be more worrisome if I didn’t feel the way I do.
Yes, the bitch is back…..but this time, she’s NOT going to take over. There’s too much to do, too many phone calls to make, too many agencies to visit. And as far as I’m concerned, she can just go to hell.