I'm Doing Good... I'm Depressed I Think

Going into week two
I don't want to do anything
I want to do everything

All I want to do is sleep
I can't sleep
My sleep is broken by noise outside of me or the noises in my head

I heard someone
It was my children
Or it was a figment of my exhausted brain

I've no appetite
I'm starving
Cooking makes me feel fulfilled
Let's just order takeout

I want to create
Something beautiful
I don't want to do a damn thing
The page is blank

I need to exercise
But I can't bring myself to even move an inch
When awake I want to lie still
I try to sleep but my legs are restless to the point of actual pain

I feel nothing
Everything hurts
Kids need me for homework... dinner...
I can only bring myself to steal their hugs and kisses or hide in my room

I can't stop shaking
I startle easily
My heart races
As I sit still

I had so many appointments
I couldn't make it to a single one
Need to speak to my therapist
I don't feel like talking

There is so much I have to do
I can't bring myself to do a single thing...
It took me over an hour and
A fitful nap wrapped in heavy blankets to force myself to write these words.

I had a great week
I think I'm depressed... maybe... probably...

Yea. Definitely.

I think.

Flickering Futures

I don't know what the future holds.

Every time I think I see a direction, the picture changes.

The path goes dark and a different one appears just out of reach so that I have to jump to get there, or leap on faith into the darkness hiding my original path.

The picture of my future flickers like the faulty florescent light in my kitchen.

Can't poke at my future like I do with the broom to the wanky light.

I have to climb the ladder by the dim light trickling in to see my way and reilluminate my view.

Do I follow the flickering lights or trust the darkness...

Oddly enough, I know what's on those dark paths since I've seen them before and the newly lit seem more terrifying.

That unknown.

Can I trust, like the blind man who keeps his house just so, that things weren't moved into my path?

Can I anticipate it if it was?

How do I find my way with senses dulled by anxiety?

But I can't stand idly in the dark, waiting for the future to shine a spotlight on me.

I have to forge my way.

Ever forward, path be damned.

I've been stumbling along so far; what's a few more trips?