It feels like circles.

I feel like I'm just going in circles, repeating the same mistakes, over and over again, with no way out, and with no hope of something brighter. I feel like I'm wasting so much. Everybody always talks about all this potential they see, that I have, and I know it's there. And I know it's wasted on me.

What's the point of intellect, if you can't apply it? What's the point of musical skill and talent, if you hardly ever get out your instruments, or sit down and compose? What's the point of artistic skill, if you can't be bothered to sit down and create? What's the point of everybody calling you gifted, if all that happens is you sit around wasting your life?

I have moments where I can sort of glimpse a future. It's not clear. More often I can't see further than a couple of weeks. I have no big plans that I can realistically carry out. I have no motivation to start things, or to complete things. I wish I could give away all the talent and skill I have, to somebody that would actually use it, and then, when I sit around all day not having much of a life, at least it wouldn't be a big thing. There'd be no potential, no expectations. And being so unwell that I have to rely on the government . . . well, it wouldn't be such a big thing. I could just accept it.

If, like now, I knew I wasn't coping and that I would benefit from some time in a different environment, I'd be able to say so. Instead of constantly trying to prove to myself that maybe I'm better than this. It just isn't working. I'm not better than this. At times like this, I feel like I'm not in control of my life. Not even a tiny bit. I feel like my illness takes over. It takes over everything. I neglect to shower, to brush my teeth, to change my clothes. I don't eat properly. Or I eat very simple food. I don't sleep properly. I stay up late, distracting myself, until I have to go to bed because there's no other option. And then I go to bed, and my mind just dwells on everything awful. And when I wake up in the morning, and I know I have no future, everything feels . . . so done.

I hit my head a good one nearly a week ago now. As a result, I'm waking up with headaches most days, and getting headaches and dizziness at other times too. I don't want to tell anybody, I don't want them to think I'm a hypochondriac. There's no more lump and the swelling has gone, the side of my head still feels tender, but it doesn't hurt to the touch or anything like that.

I feel very confused. I know I'm doing pretty good with my behaviour, in order to get my license back, and that's sort of a small ray of sunshine. But it's so very small, and it feels like it cannot pierce my darkness. This darkness that feels so complete, so hopeless. Is it really an illness? Can it really be treated? Or is there something wrong with how I was put together?

Taking meds doesn't help. Or, hasn't yet. Not taking meds feels almost the same, except with less dry mouth. I've seen so many psychologists, I've done individual CBT and individual DBT, I also did narrative therapy at one point. I go through phases where I want to get better, and kick this thing for good, but then this happens again. And again. And again.

When does it ever end? Does it ever end?

You should never be afraid of dying, for it's staying alive that's hard.

(NB: I'm not endorsing or planning suicide. But if I were to die of natural causes, I would fear nothing.)

I should be somewhere else. But who would feed and love my cat?