The Emptiness

On my bad days, I sleep in late. As late as I can. I sleep, and sleep, and finally, reluctantly, arise when my body lets me know it can't do that any longer.

I wander out into the empty house. There's just me and the dogs. I attend to their needs - letting them outside, feeding them. Then - nothing.

I say nothing, because that's how I feel. Not sad, not happy. Nothing. I have no motivation, no desires. It's an odd feeling. I don't feel happy that I get time to relax, nor sad that I am alone. I don't feel good, or bad, or busy, or lazy.

I feel nothing.

In this absence of emotion, I have to consciously attend to my needs. I'm not hungry, but I need food. I am not thirsty, but I need to drink. It all seems to difficult to do, so I prioritise what I need to do. First comes medication - 5 mg of an mood-stabiliser/anti-psychotic and 150 mg of an anti-depressant. It's a good time to start drinking the 2 litres of liquid I don't want but need. Then food. Even if it's just a muesli bar.

I try to do housework. Washing, dishes... there's always so many jobs. None are appealing, and I feel no joy of achievement upon completing them. So often, I fail in getting them done. I'll gather my dirty laundry and make it to the washing machine, and then stand vacantly. There's no sense of  pressing need, no desire to see the place clean. It's as if I can't connect the job that needs to be done with the result of completion.

I have other needs, other responsibilities, too. Exercise, socialisation, medical needs. I write them down, look at the list... and so often, nothing more happens. I feel a pang of guilt, but no motivation. Just a sense that if I don't attend to these duties, something bad will happen. 

I try to keep myself busy doing something, anything. I know it's bad to be idle, that I become self-destructive then. It could be research of something, or a computer game. It could be a piece of digital art. It doesn't really matter. I don't care much. I've played 13 000 games of solitaire, just filling in time, knowing that, even if it's not helpful, it keeps me from doing something harmful.

There are friends and family I should contact, both for their sake and mine. I can't think of anything positive to say, however. So I turn off all internet chat options and ignore my phone. I don't answer the house phone or the door. I guess I should feel lonely, but I don't.

Before I started taking my medication, I used to cry a lot. I felt so horrible, as if I were a disgusting creature with no hope, no future. I wanted to end my life. I don't feel that way any more. I am glad of that. Now I sit and stare blankly. I can't cry. Somehow the tears don't come so easily as before. There's not the horrible depth of despair I used to feel inside myself. There's just an emptiness.

I don't feel this all the time. I do have days when the sun is bright, and the world looks appealing. It's often when I physically see friends. Their optimism lifts me up, brings me out of myself. But somehow it's so hard to ask for company. 

If I've ever seemed distant, if I've not contacted you, it may be because my heart has turned off. I    am experiencing the emptiness of my condition. But know, I still care about you. It's just that I need the medications to stop my slide into depression.

Even if that means that I can feel nothing at all.