I’m talking about birthdays.
Yesterday was my 32nd birthday. I’ve spent the last couple days trying to deny that October 20th even exists on the calender. I sat there thinking how much I wish I had never been born. And how many times I heard a parental unit say that they wished I had never been born. Or I was a mistake. Or whatever.
I really did want to have a good birthday. I asked the other foreign teachers if they wanted to go out to dinner Friday night. And we did. We went to Outback for dinner and then a nice bar afterwards for drinks. Dinner was OK. But the bar was too much for me. Too much noise. I ended up leaving before everyone else with the excuse that the smoke was irritating my allergies. If it had just been dinner it would have been OK. But two teachers showed up Friday morning with balloons and flowers. And the other teachers brought a gift in the evening. As bad as it sounds, I’m planning on regifting the candles they got me. I couldn’t have them around without associating them with my birthday.
I wonder how much my birthday has to do with this constant low level depression I’ve had. I seem to get this way every year. Back when I was in grad school and working with a psychologist, I spent every single birthday in his office.
I certainly don’t see anything worth celebrating about my life. In fact, the suicidal thoughts and SI urges have gotten stronger this weekend. I spent the bulk of Saturday in bed. I would sleep for about 4 hours, get up, take an Ativan, and repeat the pattern. I had no desire to face life. Today has been slightly better. I managed to get up and check my email. Then I went back to bed. I managed to get up again around 2 and get to the doctors and the grocery store (nice little clinic they have in Lotte Mart). My allergies have been so bad, I have a completely clogged right ear. I can’t hear a thing out of it. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t have an ear infection to go along with everything else. I only lasted about 20 minutes in the store itself. Too crowded. Too bright. Too loud. You all know the drill. That’s why I took a list with me. That way I could get what I needed and get out.
I really need to clean up the apartment. I have a pile of dirty dishes. I have a load of laundry just waiting for the washer to be turned on. I need to put the sheet back on my bed (it popped off during a nightmare a few days ago). Heck, eating would be a start. I think the last proper meal I had was Friday night at dinner. I’m not sure when the previous one was.
With all the sleep I had this weekend, you’d think I wouldn’t be tired. But I am. I know that I’ve been having nightmares again. But they’re the ones I just don’t remember. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I did remember them. At least I could get them outside of my head. As it goes right now, I just wake up terrified or in a panic. Trying to deal with the resulting anxiety is sometimes more than I can take. I just get on the computer and wander around the internet, never really finding anything helpful or interesting.
I want to hide. I don’t want to deal with the real world. I don’t want to see my students (I ran into one at the store, sigh). I don’t want to worry about presentations (they’re next Saturday).