I’m officially on vacation for the next 10 days. I’ll be traveling for about half of it, but I’ll be with my wife, so I’m looking forward to it. We’ll be seeing one of our friends getting married out on the coast. It’ll be good to see them. It’s been since Christmas since we were out there last.

Failing

Tonight I’ve had to o much to drink. Actually, anything is too much to drink, given that I have liver disease. It’s genetic, but drinking certainly doesn’t help matters any.

So, why drink? I want to be numb. Emotionally I want to be numb, but all I’ve managed is my nose and face being numb.

I’ve been struggling for awhile now, but can’t seem to shake it. I’m having trouble getting out of bed in the morning lately, which is new for me. I’ve always been high functioning when the lows hit. Today I did laundry (work clothes only) and mowed the lawn. The lawn was because I neglected it for a couple of weeks, so the mower was choking every so often from the long grass. These are major accomplishments in my world right now…

Tomorrow and the rest of the week I’ll be going to a client site. I’ll need to interact closely with the production and IT staff to make sure the solution I’m programming will fit their needs. I’ll be doing this as every fiber of my being wants to just end it all. It’s not just a desire, but more of a pressing need. I know this isn’t healthy. I know it’s not logical. I have a good life, at least now I do. Things were bad growing up, at least until 17 when I left home, then things went bad again at 21 when my best friend killed herself. I used to feel so much surrounding that.. Grief, loss, anger, hatred, disbelief, sometimes individually, sometimes all at once. At around ~29 I started to move on with my life. I didn’t start dysfunctional relationships after that. I married again at 32 and have been happily married since then. I have a good marriage, a good job/career, a nice home and even a couple of good friends. How dare I feel depressed enough to want to die? With all that I have, how dare I? I feel as though I’m crawling out of my skin. I can’t shake the sadness and deep sense of hopelessness and despair.

I’m well-medicated. I have the best mental health care that money and insurance can buy. It’s not as bad when I’m medicated. It’s tolerable. It’s just good enough that I can exist from day to day. I can get up and do all the adult things I need to do. I’m mostly empty, though. I see no hope in feeling better. I know that realistically within my life, advances will be made in medication and overall treatment of severe depression. Am I willing to wait for that inevitability? Not really. Will I? Yes. I owe that much to my wife. I’m at peace with her, or mostly so. Enough to keep me here. I know what it’s like when someone you love takes their own life. I’ll not put her through that. So, I have to hold onto hope.. Hope that in the next few years, or at worst, decades, that advances will be made and effective help will come. Until then, I’ll continue existing, being a ghost in my own life. Existing day to day in the shell of whomever I used to be. I remember a better me.. A me capable of happiness and joy on a sustained basis, but that me is such a distant memory that I don’t recognize him. He died a long time ago, his body just kept pushing on and going through the motions. Once in awhile something real happened, like when I met my wife. That was real. It’s still real. I feel so selfish and like a piece of shit for wanting to leave this life before its natural end. I feel like a fraud. A failure. I’m unrecognizable to myself. I’m unrecognizable to those who know and loved me. My friends have all put distance between themselves and me. My family as well. My wife can tell something’s wrong, but how do you tell someone you love that you’re feeling this way; again?

In 2012 I had a breakdown. After one of the only arguments we’ve ever had, I ended up checking in for the first, and hopefully last time into a mental hospital. After a week I was freed. The depression had mostly passed and I could trust myself once again. Am I to that point now? No, not now, at least. I’m doing the best I can, but I feel myself slipping, day by day, minute by minute.

I don’t know what to do.. I see my psychiatrist in a couple of weeks and I’ll come clean with her as to where I’m at with things. She’ll likely prescribe some time off from work and some R&R. It won’t make a difference, though. I’ll just spend the time in bed. That’s what I do when I travel for work – go to the client during the day and then go to sleep at 6:00, followed by forcing myself out of bed at 6:00am. Repeat.When I’m home I do the minimal – dishes, occasionally laundry, let the dogs out, and take care of the lawn. Other than that, I’m lazy and sleep a lot. I watch a lot of Netflix. I’m just at a loss. I feel hollow. I’m tired.. So very tired. I don’t know how long I can keep existing like this. I’m not in any danger now, but if things continue like this, at some point, I’ll need to check into a hospital again. On some level I’d hope that would work, but on another level I know that would just prolong things. When is it ok to say that you’ve fought the good fight and lost? I don’t care if people call me weak, or that I simply took the easy way out, but should things be this fucked up to begin with? I have a good life. I simply can’t enjoy most of it. Depression knows no social or economic bounds. We’re very well off and I don’t have anxiety about most of the things people worry about in life. What the hell is wrong with me?