I'm so sorry to start out sounding dramatic, but I don't have anyone I can talk to. And I am so lost right now, and I'm getting desperate because my recent goal of "just get through today" is not even working... and seriously, this is 100% the bare minimum of goals for anyone, ever.
Background: I live in a very small, tourism-oriented town, and have a high-profile and public job that I used to love. (Translation: people gossip around here like it's their life's work.) Married for 10 years, no kids, but have pets I love dearly.
I've had depressive episodes in the past and have powered through them, but this one is unlike any I have ever experienced before.
I didn't cry for 3-5 years, (except on behalf of that stupid volleyball in Castaway), and now I do it daily. I'm totally failing at work, and people are starting to notice. I hate leaving the house, or even going to the grocery store, because I don't want to run into anyone who might know or recognize my tear-stained and angry-ugly face. My husband got tired of this behavior weeks ago, and is now just trying to avoid my stupid arse whenever possible when I'm "in a mood" because I'm that miserable to be around. I was supposed to go on vacation last week with friends, and instead I let everyone down and canceled at the last minute because I couldn't imagine how to pretend to be the old smiley version of myself for more than a few hours. I think I'm turning 40 this week, but I don't really care, and I forgot what day of the week my birthday is... (This last one may be a blessing in disguise in the long run.)
But most important, I am screwing up at work, which used to be my favorite part of life, and now I somehow don't care. Total apathy. In past episodes of depression, I at least gave a frack that my work was suffering, and that got me out of the funk in the end. But now, I could get fired tomorrow, and my response would be that at least I have way more time to cry and play mahjong on my phone.
Saw my doctor back in December, and he prescribed 10mg of Lexapro, which didn't help, and which made me even more exhausted. He switched it to Welbutrin recently, but I don't want to take it, because I tried that a couple decades before and it made me feel drunk. (Fun for the first 5 hours, but then it loses its appeal.) He also gave me a referral to our lone therapist for 100 miles or so, but she is not accepting new clients, so that's not an option. Also, see aforementioned gossip-of-a-small-town aspect, and how this relates to continually picking up different anti-depressants at the lone pharmacy in town.
So instead, I've defaulted to my old coping mechanisms of alcoholism with a bulimia chaser. (aka, binging in multiple mediums... Also, hours and hours of Game of Thrones on repeat.)
In the meantime, everything is falling apart. I stopped using smiley emojis in all communications, my cell-phone mahjong scores have suffered, but perhaps most importantly, I am literally losing everything that brought me joy. Everything. Sometimes I think that I just have to hold on for as long as my cat Brownie is alive, because I love him more than anything, and then once he's gone, I can just let go. And he has feline herpes, a heart murmur, and one eye, so the timetable here is fairly unpredictable, which is a little scary for the both of us.
I just realized that I don't know what I'm asking for. Maybe I just wanted to write this all down and literally tell anyone who has a vague interest in listening, or who remotely cares about a weird stranger, that I am legitimately losing my sh*t and that things are NOT OK. They are not OK at all.
I've had to hide everything because I have to keep my smiley-facade on for acquaintances and work colleagues, and because I am becoming a miserable burden to the people who are closest to me, and that's never happened before. Ergo, their patience is running thin. So in the short term, I have to be happy to meet a colleague's mistress-of-the-moment, or happy to hear my husband talk about the way-more-horrible situation of how college football championships are poorly handled by the powers that be. (He's not wrong. They need a larger pool for playoffs.)
But during all of this pretending, I am very, very much alone. And I am lost. And I am so sorry to be such a dramatic venting PITA on my first post, but my brain is severely broken, and I don't know what to do - about anything - right now. I feel like a mannequin about to crack.
Any guidance is appreciated. Even if it's just an acknowledgement that you actually read this monstrosity of a post, and that you are one of the very, very few people who actually knows that I am NOT OK, and that I am NOT fine, and that I don't give a sh*t about college football, or your mistress, or about anything, really. I just want to get through today. and take care of my cat.