Why can't I?

Here I go...

This morning I decorated gingerbread men with Daughter.

Monumental achievement? It felt like it.

My moods have been erratic lately. 

After last week being busy & my mind being fairly distracted, I shuddered to a halt on Saturday evening.

Saturday had been spent visiting my mum. We had plans to go out but comfortably abandoned such plans while feeling cosy at home. I was content to sit & let Daughter play while everyone else looked out for her. I was utterly relaxed on the large leather sofa, with the log fire roaring.

When I returned home I felt fine. A little more nonplussed than earlier. Was it the beginning of numbness? I wasn’t sure.

I crashed out on the sofa, I was tired, & sure enough the numbness crept over me like a familiar old blanket. Oh no. I was quiet & subdued all evening until it came to bedtime. Bedtime is usually the clincher. I sat on the edge of the bed & as my lovely, unsuspecting man brushed his teeth I started to cry & sob. I didn’t want to feel like this. It seemed as though this was happening more unpredictably than before & I couldn’t cope with it. I didn’t want to feel like this, I didn’t want it carry on & at the same time I didn’t feel as though I could carry on. It was too much.

Why does this keep happening? How can I feel so okay one moment then completely encased by sadness the next? 

Sunday was numb. Today is numb. I’m not good & I’m not bad. I’m just thinking. I’m certainly not doing. I never do anything when I feel this way & that’s part of the problem. I feel sad; I have no motivation; I do nothing; I feel worthless; I feel sadder. Then I cause problems for myself – not paying bills, not completing projects – & that adds anxiety to the mix.

Yes, the answer is glaringly obvious. Do something you lazy twat. It’s more than that. I’m not sure how to explain further, except that it’s like a constant block: a constant voice in the back of my mind that reminds me of just how much of a failure I am – just how worthless I am. I can tell myself I’m not, others can tell me the same, I believe them sometimes, it sounds rational but it doesn’t make it go away.

I need help. I’ve asked for it, though I haven’t been entirely honest  about how I feel with anyone I’ve encountered – not professionals nor with my loved ones. I know that I must but I don’t want to make a fuss – I’m not worth a fuss. I am pathetic & I should be able to deal with this myself. Everyone else does. Everyone else copes with life. Why can’t I?