On being here.

This is a tough one and one that I would rather not write but I started this and so I owe it to me to keep a track of what is happening so I can look back and see what worked for me, or what didn't. What isn't working right now is the medicine they gave me. It's not working at all.
When my dad was 19, his dad committed suicide, my dad never recovered from that. He and his dad were very close, best friends, with mathematically brilliant like minds. They did everything together and grandpa was the only person who truly understood my dad. He was angry about how his dad could choose to remove himself from their lives and didn't understand why he would do what he did.  As a result we have grown up thinking suicide is a selfish and unthinking act and one that we could never understand.
I often have thought how people who choose to end their lives must be so wrapped up in their troubles that they must forget about even the most loved people around them, if you loved your family then you couldn't put them through such a thing, could you?
I have, over the past few days had an insight into why and how someone can begin to feel that this is the only choice available.
I went to the dreaded government medical and it wasn't at all the way it usually is, the doctor had called in sick ( Ironic? Yes, indeed, I wonder if anyone called him to ask if he was incontinent and if he was able to pick up and move an empty cardboard box because if he can then why wasn't he AT WORK DAMMIT? ) I have no idea why but the other people were sent home and they looked at me and said " let's see what we can do" What they did was have a lovely nurse interview me and I was left completely befuddled because she was nice and she was friendly. She asked me questions like " do you self harm?" and then said " this is a yes or no question, you are entitled to a private life, they do not need specifics, just tell me yes or no. So I did just that. I left feeling as though I had no idea what that was all about, it was nice to have not been interrogated but I felt so useless and as usual after these things as though I have no real value in this world at all.
She asked me questions that I just couldn't answer because my brain isn't working. I can't remember anything, time is a big old fuddled mess, I can't remember if I did something this week or when I was 12. I can't get words out even if I can remember so really, it doesn't matter.
I don't know what is real lately, I find it almost impossible to discern peoples' intentions which means I take enormous offence where there is none or I laugh when someone is being serious. I am, quite frankly, an actual idiot.
I am overwhelmed with being overwhelmed. I find normal noise unbearable to the point where I am reduced to a sobbing heap when all 3 boys are being boys at the same time,  in the same room.
I sleep for 2 hours at a time, 2 hours of coma like sleep then WIDE AWAKE in a second and awake for an hour or two and  then back to sleep for 2 hours and then UP for the day until 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I can't stay awake and so I fall asleep but only for one hour and then AWAKE and so frantic, my mind never stops, never stops, I dream when I sleep and I dream about being tired and busy and unable to stop so when I wake up I am SO AWAKE AND SO ....yes, like that.
And so, here we are. Or I am. I am here and I'm glad about that because it's been a bit touch and go to be honest.
I was on my own yesterday, or the day before, I can't tell. I lay on my bed and as I started to relax my mind started to race and all I could think about was how impossible it must be to live with me or actually have anything to do with me lately and how, even though I have tried, I am not getting better. I am considerably worse. I can't leave the house unless I have someone with me, I cannot speak to people without feeling so overwhelmed with panic that I avoid it at all costs. I can shop if I know what I need and I know where it is and I can get in and get out in 20 minutes or so. I am more likely to drive Sophie to the shop and tell her what to buy. (The great part of that is the amount of money I am saving, but wait, when will I ever be able to spend it? I'd better get healed soon or this could end in tears.)
The more my brain raced the more hopeless I felt because I really thought this would be over by now. I have had periods before when my depression has spiralled and I have been unable to function as well as usual but I have always been able to force myself to do what is really important. Those times were fleeting in comparison to this round, those times were like little practise runs for this real go.
I felt completely helpless. I feel completely helpless and all I could think was " this is it, this is how I am and I won't get better, there is no-one that can help me and this is what everyone has to deal with" and I couldn't imagine doing this for ever. I could not imagine H and the children having to put up with this level of crazy and my being so unpredictable any more and the feeling was so terrifying I understood what drives people to just give up and give in.
I was so afraid of feeling that way that I told H, I told him because I knew that would stop my mind going any further down that path. I thought of my dad and how devastated he was for his whole life and how he never recovered and I knew that my family would feel the same way.
I cut my medicine down to half the dose, tomorrow I am going to see my Dr and ask her to change it completely, I have to believe that it is the medicine that is making me feel this way. Whatever it is, I have to stop it, I hate being so out of control of how I feel and it's like watching this miserable existence from a distance, my life feels as though it is all in slow motion and I'm standing on the sidelines, watching, while the devil takes control.
My skin is crawling 24 hours a day, my face feels as though it is being eaten by ants, hurty bitey ants with sharp and burning fangs. When I start to relax at 3am when I eventually go to bed, I see bugs, creepy crawly bugs on my pillow.
This is FUN isn't it?
I am glad that I could think about my dad. I am happy that there was still enough of MY mind left that I knew there was more than one choice. I don't think I will ever say again that I don't understand why anyone would kill themselves. I think I do understand and I am so sorry that those people didn't have just one person or one thing to think of that stopped them from believing that the world would be better off without them.
H told me that I am loved and that this world wouldn't be a better place without me and because he doesn't say those words randomly, I knew I could believe him. I wish I could feel the words instead of just hearing them and thinking that they must be true if he is saying them.
I hope this is over soon....in the happy ever after way of course!