Guilt does odd things to the brain. It weighs you down, like a noose of lead while trying to swim.
The following is my internal dialogue most days – It’s not pretty. Very self-absorbed. Depression is a bitch
I sit here, having not slept since 11 am yesterday, thinking, and wondering. Is my pain REALLY so bad that I can’t work? Couldn’t I struggle through it? Just deal with it?
Others have it so much worse than me, they manage to work, to do things. Get out mingle. Why can’t I? Yes, I have pain, sure sometimes it feels like I am being stabbed over and over. But it isn’t always that bad. Most of the time it is just tightness, spasms, cramping. I could work with that. Couldn’t I?
When I am sitting quietly, just at the computer, or watching TV, even sleeping, the pain isn’t bad. It’s barely more than a stomach flu that’s been over for 2 days. That bit of cramping, unsure if you should eat, but yet starving.
My doctor has told me I can’t work. My body, when I stand, or walk, even sit wrong, has told me I shouldn’t work. So why do I have this guilt? Why do I feel like I am faking it? Worry others will think I am faking? No one has said that, no one has even hinted at that. But when I have good moments, when the pain is manageable, my brain whispers, screams at me “You should be working. Others in worse shape work. Why aren’t you working? What about your family? What about money? Food? Caring for your family? You are lazy. You should be working. You can work. You can work. YOU. CAN. WORK.”
So I try. I get up, I putter around the house, I make supper, I go for small grocery buys.
and the pain comes. I try to ignore it. The voice SCREAMS at me that it is all in my head. It taunts me, telling me that I believe the pain is bad, so I feel it that bad. It laughs at me, calls me a wimp. Tells me I am lying, even to myself.
My body fights back, the pain will cripple me. I can’t stand up straight of it feels like I am being ripped in half.
Lies. How can you lie.
It’s not. I know it’s not. I FEEL the pain.
I don’t take my pain killers. It means I am giving in. Others have it worse.
IT’S NOT! IT IS NOT A LIE! I FEEL IT.
I should be working. I should be taking care of my family. Providing for them. No work, no money.
I try, I try to be positive. The doctor is trying, I have referrals and tests until I feel like a specimen in a bottle. They find nothing. What if they never find anything?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Nothing. You should be working. It’s all in your head. You lie!
NO! YOU LIE!
Depression lies. Depression lies. Depression lies …
I don’t have depression. No one has ever told me that I do. It’s all a lie.
No, I have family who love me. I have friend(s) who love me. They’ve told me so?
My family gets hurt, they get sick. I see them suffer. HOW can I take away from that? How can I feel jealous they need comfort? I am selfish. I could work.
I could work. I could work. I should workIshouldworkishouldwork
FUCK YOU! DEPRESSION LIES!!!
I cry. I can’t shut out the voice. I can’t turn off the guilt.
Then I look at my book. Sometimes the guilt gets worse. But I remember. It is love. I am cared about.
WHY won’t the voice shut up? SHUT UP!
What if they don’t find anything?