Monday

I have been pretty numb lately. I can't imagine the despair in Connecticut on Friday and all through the weekend. I can't even really comprehend my own pain. I think I've been gray for so long I don't realize my mood slipping into the black and I don't know how to hold onto the happy white. Not much distinction.

I'm not sure if the antidepressants or depression is to blame for my mental cloudiness, but it definitely complicates things. Depression is a sneaky disease as it is and when this numbness sets in it's a fog like wool over my eyes, and the disease becomes even more slippery.

Even now, as I write this, I feel like I should  be more angered or empowered to fight back and yet I hardly hold enough motivation to get off the couch for a glass of water or bathroom break. I am physically disabled by the chemical imbalance in my brain and mentally immobilized by the crippling disgust with  myself. It's a vicious cycle.

I don't care about myself enough. I don't value Hannah.

Listening to the radio this morning (KIRO 97.3 FM) I heard John Curly tell a story about one his childhood friend's struggle with mental disease and subsequent radio hosts discuss the lack of value put on human life and pervasive feeling of isolation even in our social media-riddled high tech society.

It rang so true. I don't value my life. I don't feel like a sacred being. I feel that without success or accomplishments I retain absolutely no value-just another carcass. I feel isolated and alone. Misunderstood and unwanted.  Worthless.  How do you work up the gumption to save something you don't value? Especially when it causes so much distress, anxiety, and pain for me and my family.

I see how little human life is valued all over the world and reason that unless I make some outstanding contribution to humanity I'm  not worth the space I take up or the oxygen I breathe.

Maybe I think this way because of a decade of depression or maybe it's not a completely uncommon thought process, but I do know that the self-harming and suicidal thoughts I consider so often aren't healthy or "normal."

It's not an acceptable way to live. Someday I might have the hope and strength to change things. For now, I'm barely holding on with the remnants of hope left to me waiting for something to go my way and help me out of this hole.