a Scarlet D

Yeah, I’ll put a trigger warning on this. Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and casino bingo.

I’ve been travelling a lot lately, which is good. I tend to have good days while on a road trip. It’s not a guarantee, but it happens. When I get back from a road trip I do tend to feel a bit of a slide into the dark.

Today was a strange day. Woke up as a Zombie. Had a friend over and we played scrabble – I won. Took a nap, which helped the Zombie element. Finally, went with a friend to a casino to play bingo. I hadn’t been to a casino since Las Vegas, so it was interesting to see a smaller, local casino. Had a good meal (classic club, bottomless Coke) and got a boost with an iced latte. Bingo was cosmic bingo, which was fun, and I intentionally wore a bright white shirt and white shoes in order to “Pop.” I didn’t win any bingo, but it was amusing at least. And fun to share with a friend.

One of the things people don’t know is what’s happening behind the scenes. While it was great seeing my friend and winning at scrabble, it took a lot of energy to share my space. The nap helped reset me a bit, and cleared my head. But the casino took the rest of out of me, slowly.

It wasn’t until bingo was half over that I felt this hard crash that just pulled me under. It was partly kicked off from some people I was observing that reminded me of my past but also my children. I did take the time to pop a text off to my youngest daughter with one of my favorite pictures of her. That helped a little bit. But not really enough. In a moment I felt miserable. Lonely, lost, hopeless, and scared of the future. These are familiar feelings lately.

I was able to put up a human front, and the smiles and laughter were forced, but parts of them were real and made me feel a little bit better. But the grip on my gut that made my life in that moment hurt so bad persisted. I did mention to my friend that things were tough in these moments, and that I would survive. He’s ridiculously supportive and while he didn’t understand completely, he was there for me. Which cut the loneliness nicely.

Coming home I didn’t really know what to do. So I did what I always do. Pull out the laptop, procrastinate working on my writing, and turn on fail videos on the TV. I feel sick to my stomach and jittery. This restlessness is part of my anxiety and supports the depression and desperation. This is where the suicidal ideation really comes to the fore. Generally I feel this twist that makes me wish I wasn’t alive all day. But the evenings, especially when I’m out of spoons, just puts the phrase in my head on repeat. I don’t want to exist. Sometimes it’s a rational feeling that pushes me to research and try to come up with functional plans, and other times it’s simply being stuck in a cage beating myself against the bars wanting to get out, to be done.

That’s probably enough dark drama for one post. I’m not sure what I am trying to say. I suppose it’s that my smiles and laughter usually hide something far more sinister. The fact that nobody knows about it makes it more lonely and more isolating. That’s all.

Give me some feedback and let me know if you connect with this, have any personal methods for dealing, or simply want to say hi. It really helps to know I have readers.