Dysfunctional

What do you do when your mental illness pushes you to the point of being dysfunctional?

That’s what I’m asking Daisy today from bed. She has watched me cry on and off and sleep all day today.

Still no baby. I’m having trouble eating and have been losing weight. I have had to call off work again and again.

I looked at Daisy who was vigorously bathing which meant she was ready to listen and finally admitted to someone, “I think I might not be functional…”

She kept bathing which meant I was supposed to keep talking. I told her how I haven’t been able to drive because it’s too scary. I don’t know when my mind is going to flick that, “it would be better for everyone if I wasn’t here” switch.

I told her through tears how there won’t be a baby again this month and how I’m getting discouraged. I feel like my body hates me.

She moved onto cleaning her belly. I told her how scary it is to be dysfunctional. How I was terrified of losing my job, again. How I’m scared to go outside. How worthless I feel overall.

She stopped bathing and layed on her back for me to pet her freshly cleaned belly. She probably just wanted food but I ignored that and took it as her trying to comfort me. As I pet her belly I asked her, “what do I do when I get to this point? I always end up here.” She closed her eyes wisely and began to go to sleep. So I closed mine too and tried to go back to sleep.

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