Tired

I'm tired. Tired to the point of almost giving up. How can I go on when every day is painful to the point that I think I'm loosing my mind. I'm sure you have heard the commercial  "depression hurts." Well that is an understatement. Some days I feel that my heart is going to sink to my feet it feels so heavy. All I have to do is get through one day at a time. But, continuing to live like that, one day at a time, never knowing from one day to the next if I'm going to feel up to getting dressed, getting out of bed, doing anything but sitting and staring into the unknown, not seeing anything and trying not to feel anything.

I know my family is worried. But I don't know what to do about that. I don't like that they are worried. So I think of alternatives to this way of life and all I see is the same thing day after day. Maybe if I just gave up. I know that sometimes I feel that hopeless. I know that my family would not have me to worry about. That would be one problem solved. But then I think what will it do to my family if I did give up. How would that affect them. Would it be worse than the worrying? I just don't know. I love my family and I don't want them to worry about me, but I also don't want them to hurt because of me.

I find myself in a conundrum. To live or die. That is the question that plagues me most days. I'm tired and really wish I could just give up. Maybe the next time around things will be less something, I don't know what, but less...

I recently told Liz that if not for my lack of job and the depression and anxiety  my life would be really pretty good. After all, I'm physically healthy, I have beautiful healthy kids and granddaughter. My siblings are not in the best of health but they are getting by, or so it seems. My sisters kids are doing well enough. My mother is getting older and having the problems that the old have. She is going to have her other knee replaced. I worry about her going into the hospital. The last time one of my parents went into the hospital it was for a routine procedure only to die before he could come home. I do miss Dad. God only knows why though. I have spent all of my adult life complaining what a creep he was, a terrible father. Sometimes I think the  only reason I miss him is because I don't have that hate anymore. You get use to having that feeling day-in and day-out that when it is gone you mourn its loss.

Well, enough about this being tired. It is Liz's birthday. She is going to be, dare I say it, 34. I find it really hard to believe that she is that old or that I am old enough to have a 34 year old child. I love her though even if she does make me feel old. Have a good day my little Lizzie.