March 27, 2005
Update ... still depressed
My schoolwork continues to decline. My failure at the Phoenix project eats at me continually - I wish I'd never joined. I know it's all my fault; that only makes it worse. If I could blame anything else for my trouble, it would be a lot easier to bear. "I can bear anything as long as I can blame someone else for it." :-) I don't know what to do. I guess the obvious thing to do, as I've been advised, is to work like the devil and try to catch up. I can't ... or rather, I won't. I don't want to. Which only makes it worse.
My relationship with God is hard to describe. Certainly, my devotional life is on the rocks, mostly due to the fact that I've picked up a nasty habit (which I'm indulging right now) of staying up to all hours of the night. This makes it quite impossible to rise early the next day, which makes it nigh impossible to keep my devotional life together. To some extent, I can't help it at this point ... my sleeping schedule is so far off I can't sleep normally (which is why I'm here instead of sleeping right now). But for all that, I talk to God more than anyone else, though most of what I say is whining and pleading and repenting and musing and then repeating the cycle over again.
Despair and pain are near-constant now, beginning the moment I open my eyes. Sleep is a delicious refuge from it, making it even more difficult to get up in the morning. I always dream, and my dreams are always interesting, and the dreadful ache is never present, so I prefer to sleep as long as possible. I also deal with the ache by wasting my time reading and playing games ... my imagination and interest can push it away for a time. Of course, since it wastes time, when it ends, there's more guilt and pain and the rock is heavier, so it isn't a good trade. But it's a trade I've grown well accustomed to making in the past few months.
Every time when people greet me and ask me how I'm doing, I wonder what to say. I always say "fine" or some derivative - I don't want people to worry about me, and it's hard to explain to them why a more truthful answer would be "like hell." I don't even want you to worry about me, but it is something of a release just to say what's on my mind. It's when I'm alone that the danger and despair close in - when I'm with others, I can push it away and smile and carry on a normal conversation. That's generally what I do with my wife - try to push it away and deal with her the way I should. She sees more of my depression than most, and we certainly talk about it, but you can't always be depressed around everyone.
As I said in my previous post, what I usually want to say to people who ask me how I'm doing is, "Please, help me!" I never say this, not to anyone (not out loud, anyway), because what else would I say after that? Help me how? From what? They can't help, other than to tell me the obvious "just get to work!" That hurts most of all, because it's what I'm always saying to myself and not doing.
But God is good. He is faithful. He always listens to me, no matter how much I bore Him with my whining. I know He's working in me, and I know He hasn't given up on me, and I know He loves me. I don't feel any of those things, but I'm certain of them. Particularly the first ... that God is good.
I thought that I'd found part of the answer to my problem when I realized that I've never forgiven myself for my mistakes. For a lot of things, actually. It's natural to my mind to seek forgiveness for sin ... but mistakes (like not getting my homework done) are something it's very hard for me to forgive myself. I then tried my very hardest to forgive myself - my conscientious self forgave me for slacking and failing the Phoenix project. I forgave my conscientious self for hurting me and killing me and torturing me for those things. For a while, things felt peachy, and I was encouraged. Then I slacked again, and I'm back where I started, with my conscience condemning me more strongly and painfully than ever. For my part, I just want to tell my conscience "go to hell. You don't care about me - you never have. All you care about is your precious homework, your precious image, your sacred word. You are an arrogant, selfish, cruel master and I won't serve you another instant. You can wither and die ... you need me in order to get anything done, and I won't do anything for you. Ever."
I've got an appointment with a psychiatrist about mid-April. He may perhaps prescribe some medication I can use to quell my discouragement and despair. I have no idea. I have little hope, and even if it does work, that only means that I've taken the easy way out.
So what good news do I have? That God is good. That He listens. That He does not abandon His children. That's about it.
