It’s Bigger On The Inside

The days roll by, still very much under the category of “can’t be bothered”. Eh, “roll by” would suggest a smoothness not characteristic of these rough days. But, I’m still (at this point) determined to post occasionally. So, here’s an occasion and a post.

This damned depression. I could certainly use a Doctor with a wonderful way to escape.

The T.A.R.D.I.S.

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It’s bigger on the inside.

So, too, is my journey. I wish to withdraw, to close in and down, but I keep reaching out even as I sink within.

The antidepressants are not doing what I’d hoped. What did I hope? I was under no impression that they would simply sort me out in such a way that I could all of a sudden function like the rest of the world. But, I had expected a little help in the coping department, an edge taken off. All they seem to be doing is drying up my sea of tears, all the while doing nothing to ease the feeling of torment or the inability to “function”. So, I’m a wreck that just doesn’t cry.

I guess it’s back to the doctor for me. I know she, too, was hoping that the little pill would just make things better. I’m sorry I will have to disappoint her. I’m sorry that nothing is easy. I’m sorry she doesn’t have a magical blue box that can whisk me away from my pain and struggle.

And, again, not for the last time, I wish I could just escape.

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I wish I could just get better…

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…or, else, I wish I could just go to bed and stay there.

I haven’t blogged in a while. I had a nice little momentum going there for a bit. But, lately, even though I’ve had things to say, they’ve been relegated to “can’t be bothered” and “what’s the point?”

Depression. This is the reality of it and the reason for longing so desperately for escape. To be well…yes, that would be great. Just to be better would be marvellous. But, if that’s not going to happen, escape is fine…it’s necessary.

As I forced myself out of bed (due to my obligations), I have forced myself to write this “pointless” post. Because, just maybe, it has a point after all.