12,419 days 

That’s how long I’ve lived. 

I’m struggling again.  2 days of outright sick & a week of not well enough to exercise and I’m back at square one.  I’m depressed again.

Literally from missing exercise,  a little short daylight,  and 2 not ideal food choices.

I’m faced with the depression cure book works.  It helps to not hate life.

However, it’s more work.  Work that is all too easy to forego, especially when literally sick, or financially strapped,  or too busy doing other things.

And that’s my catch 22. All of those things are my daily life,  especially being short time and money. It seems I’m always working, hard long hours, to get nowhere.

I want nothing more than to escape,  but I’ve realized this week that I can’t. My life is a trap I can’t escape from, even temporarily. 

You see I drive a borrowed car.  When I don’t use it the owner – Jennifer- does, because our work schedules are opposite. My husband uses our only van all the time, & now works 4 hours every night.

Even if I could set aside time and place to disappear for a few days,  I’d  have no transportation.

I have nothing to show for my life.  I put love before money when Nathan and Anya needed it most.  I took care of them,  and now I can’t even take care of myself. I’m melting down and traumatizing everyone,  especially Ian, at every turn.

It leaves me wondering: why bother?

Why bother following the depression cure if I fall every time something that’s part of “normal” life happens. Why bother fixing the depression, if life  never changes,  and by change I mean improve.  I’m trapped in a level of poverty that I can’t escape, even for a few days.  I’m supposedly smart,  intelligent in fact.  If I can’t escape this vicious cycle, who can? Yet, the biggest question is: why fight so damn hard, to get nowhere, to have nothing,  and to leave emotionally damaged people in my wake?  That’s what my parents  did. They’re past retirement age and still have nothing to show for their lives. All of us emotionally damaged children don’t even desire talking to them anymore.  I don’t wish to repeat that cycle,  yet currently I am doing just that – despite best efforts not to.

So, I’m sitting here writing this, because I’m not convinced that life is worth all the work necessary for me to try and maintain sanity. I have no incentives,  no reason to live anymore, nothing is within reach.  I’m Simply a trapped work horse doing other people’s bidding to get up another day and do more of the same for nothing in return. I even have to fight and struggle to maintain my own sanity. It doesn’t seem worth it. And my prayers to God? I have no idea. Do they even matter?  There’s millions of people everyday that live to ripe old age and never have their miracle happen. Why am I more special than they? 

I have no answers.  I have no hope anymore. I’m  not sure what I’ll do. I know my husband thinks I should keep fighting at home with my family. I know professionals agree. I’m not so sure.  I’m turning my son into me, it’s not worth it. He deserves better. Yet I  can’t escape either. I just  don’t know. 

About Treasa Cailleach

I'm a massage therapist working with chiropractic and the elderly; musician, artist, pagan, mom, B of LGBTQ, & polyamorous professional.

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