A Few Drops of Desperation

So, welcome to my nightmare.  It isn't much, but I like to call it home.  Make yourself comfortable, a beverage perhaps?  Some snacks? 

My pithy, occasionally ironic writing stylings aside, this is my vainglorious attempt to start down a path I've needed to travel for quite a while.  I've come to the proverbial end of the line.  No, no, no, not THAT end of the line, though I've been there a time or twelve, but instead the end of the line where I just am not going to continue living this way.  It just isn't working and I am beyond misery.  So whether anyone reads this or not, I don't think I care, because I am attempting, in utter desperation to be candid, to change my outlook, one tiny, itsy-bitsy step at a time.  Writing has brought some comfort in the past, particularly in letters and emails, so I am picking up the gambit, to mix my metaphors and am going to try to write for 21 days. 

I am tired of feeling dead inside.  I am tired of fighting the Black Dog and self-medicating and lying and living double and triple lives.  I am gassed.  It takes more effort to raise my head from the pillow everyday than anything else I do.  I want this to stop.  I am committed, like only someone who's seen the Gates of Hell can be, to getting out of this.  I am not delusional, I don't expect it to be better in 21 days, but I am going to keep moving forward. 

When you are going through hell, the best bet is to just keep going...

Welcome to Day 1