Shut the fuck up.

Things I should be grateful for:

My "polycule" moving in with us
My breast reduction surgery has a set date (August 17.)
I did great at Marcon.
I had a lovely time with Matt on our "courtiversary" (we went to the zoo.)
I have a built-in support network here at home now, and I don't even have to leave the house.

But I'm not happy. I feel completely burnt out. I'm still on antibiotics for the mysterious vertigo illness, and I think maybe the doxycycline is interfering with my antidepressant. Or maybe it's not, and I'm just sad for no reason. I haven't showered in three days, and I don't care. Eating is hard. All I want to do is sleep. I tell myself that maybe if I put on some meditative music and relax and take a nap, I'll wake up and feel better. That worked last night, actually, but definitely not this morning. I have, in general, been plagued with bizarre nightmares that defy any kind of explanation. Just blurs of colors and shapes, the presence of people in my past, emotions of desperation and frustration and fear.

The one thing that sticks out from the dreams is Bartholomew. In my dreams, he's my imaginary friend. He's a tiny blue and black spider with a cartoonish expression. He is so small that most people would need a microscope to see him, but for some reason I can see him really clearly. In the dream, I feel sad because I want to get rid of him (he's pinching me and doesn't understand that it hurts), but I don't know how to cut the cord of spider silk that connects us. The cord is black and is attached to my hand with a tiny barb in my skin. I try pulling on it and cutting it, but nothing works. And he's really, really sad that I'm trying to get rid of him, because most people don't even see him, much less try to be friends. But I know I have to get rid of him somehow.

It sounds so stupid, like a dream a little kid would have. Well, I have been feeling very small. There are now three breadwinners in this house, and I contribute absolutely nothing financially. All I can think of is the other times when I have lived with other couples and been in the same position. I always got kicked out, or if I didn't, there was drama, and they all talked about me behind my back, and made promises to me that they either never intended to keep. Or, maybe they just didn't understand the gravity of those promises when they were made. I am a difficult person to live with. I have mental illness and physical disabilities, and they aren't going to disappear. I feel like I need to carry around disclaimers for people to sign if they really want to be my friend. I lost not one, not two, but three potential life partners because they decided they couldn't handle my depression. So, despite their assertions to the contrary, I find it hard to believe that Kate and Paul won't tire of me and my issues, and that eventually, Matt will see me for the broken, lazy, ungrateful piece of shit the others saw me as. I've still got abandonment issues, and no amount of reassurance helps beyond the moment, because I've heard it all before from people who have cast me aside.

I'm afraid I'm like Bartholomew the tiny spider, and there will come a time when people will see that I am toxic to them, and that they need to cut me out of their lives.

The fact that Kate and Paul work opposite shifts also does not help. I don't actually see them that often. When I do, it's nice, but in some ways, I feel more alone than ever. I shouldn't feel that way, because Paul has really opened up to me, and Kate says he barely ever opens up to anyone the way he has with me. He has shown me trust. I'm afraid to strain that trust or break it because of my illnesses.

I'm just afraid. The sadness is thick and viscous and gumming up my gears. I can't concentrate on anything (this blog entry is a small miracle.) I had to take half a Xanax just to be able to write it. I've said it before- I can deal with melancholy, with sadness and grief that has an actual cause. This sad-for-no-reason shit pisses me off. So does the insecurity. Intellectually, I know better. I know they aren't all secretly plotting to get rid of me, or that they talk about me disparagingly. I know these people are my chosen family, and they care for me and want me to get better. But tell the other part of my brain that. The part that keeps me in a constant state of fear.

I don't know what to do. I'm stuck. I want to feel like I did at Marcon all the time. I had a purpose. I made new friends, and reconnected with old ones. I felt like me. That was only two weeks ago, and I've backpedaled so much since then, and hit the wall behind me so hard, that my resolve feels broken. I look to my gods, and all they can do is remind me that my strength is there, even if I can't feel it, and it's my responsibility to do something about it. Right now, though, I don't have the strength. I just want to go back home and go to bed.

Oh, and I miss my room a lot more than I thought I would, too. I think that's contributing to my feeling of disconnection with the rest of the house. What was mine is mine no longer, given to those who better deserve it. That may not actually be the truth, but it's how I feel. The voice that tells me I am worthless and don't deserve anything nice is very loud right now, and I just want it to shut the fuck up.