I can/I can't

If this reads like a cry for help, don't worry; my therapists, doctors, and spiritual advisors have been informed

The two lists are an attempt to be exhaustive, but they, of course, are not. I left out obvious can’ts (I can’t dunk a basketball), and obvious cans (I can brush my teeth). I’m sure they are non-obvious cans I should list, but I can’t think of them; that’s part of the problem. The parentheticals include key information as to the cause and/or how I’m the only thing getting in the way of it going differently. What I hope is mostly absent in this is shame and guilt. I’ve done a lot of good work around those two bugaboos. This is hopefully more of a stark look at my reality, not imagined (by the now-quieter negative voices in my head).

I can breathe. I can pray. I can meditate. I can go to AA meetings. I can call friends. I can hang out with friends in person (but I haven’t wanted to in a long time). I can get in the car and drive (but I have nowhere to go). I can watch football or other television (but I haven’t wanted to in a long time). I can have sex (but I haven’t wanted to in a long time). I can grow tomatoes (except when nature says I can’t). I can work (barely). I can pay my bills (barely). I can take a walk, exercise, or play with my children (rarely, when I’m not too fatigued). I can drink Diet Coke (but I’m not supposed to). I can use nicotine (but I’m not supposed to). I can vote (though I don’t like the options). I can ask doctors for help. I can take pills. I can go to therapy. I can go to more therapy. I can stare out my office window and think about nothing but the moving tree (for 10 whole seconds). I can hold out hope. I can refuse to give up. I can hold it all together (for a little bit longer). I can rely on family when I can’t.

I can’t drink. I can’t gamble on stocks, cards, or sports. With a gambler’s mindset, I can’t in good faith bet on myself to succeed in any sense (longshot underdogs with no upside are a wasted bet). I can’t sleep. I can’t stay awake. I can’t eat what I want to. Often, I can’t eat at all (intermittent fasting). I can’t even use the bathroom consistently (medication?). I can’t feel anything, good or bad. I can’t laugh, and I can’t cry (though I feel like I need to). I can’t remember why I enjoyed old hobbies. I can’t enjoy new ones. I can’t talk to my dad or my grandparents (all dead). I can’t remember why I even want to talk to them. I can’t like my current job (though I’ve tried). I can’t identify a job I might like. I can’t make a good case for why anyone should employ someone so unwell. I can’t remember what “normal” feels like, but I can’t stop wanting it. I can’t stop the negative physical symptoms of depression. I can’t stop the negative mental symptoms of depression (though I’ve learned a lot of ways to reactively combat them). I can’t look at the past, and I can’t see a future (but that’s okay because I’m only supposed to be present, right?). I can’t do anything without shaking like a leaf. I can’t believe I’m this fragile. I can’t trust myself to do the right thing in the face of pressure and challenges or boredom. I can’t keep feeling like I’m in a fight (for what, I don’t even know) every second of every day. I can’t think my way out of this mess. I can’t feel my way out of this mess. I can’t spiritually find a way out of this mess (so far). I can’t keep pretending I can hold it all together.

I can’t figure out how to better articulate what’s wrong to all of the helpful people around me. But I can write. And keep trying.