Blocked - Full Stop

My mind is blocked as well as my nose and ears.  I couldn't do a simple task, and I can't decide whether it's because I'm ill or because I just can't be arsed.  It amounts to the same thing - the task doesn't get done and I feel a failure.  Depression mimics not coping - but it's millions of miles away from that.  Depressives cope fantastically on a day to day, hour to hour basis - we cope with constant rotten thoughts, often with voices and always with dignity.  We stay alive, don't we?  So I'm not "not coping" at all - I'm coping well with the terrible ravages of the illness.  Even being suicidal is trying to cope.  Self harming is coping.  I just carry on coping and have to realise that this evening's tasks are beyond me for today.  It's a bit like mindfulness - noticing and letting go.  I'm crap at that when it comes to thoughts and voices, but I try not to beat myself up about tasks.  Having said that, I've got to have a shower and get dressed later, in order to go out to the garage - and that's a task I'm dreading.  It's safe in my pyjamas.

My hands are itchy again, so it's back to the cream and the pills.  And I've got restless legs - how I am supposed to sleep is a mystery.  What happened to my 10 hours a night?  They were guaranteed by quetiapine, a mere 100mg of it - 350mg and 2 nitrazepam and all I get are the side effects, not the result I crave.  Perhaps I should fill in my contact form on the front page of this blog and send myself a note - "GO TO SLEEP". 

I'm feeling low again - it descends like a cloud on me.  What a cliche - but it's true.  It wraps its tendrils around me and devours my soul.  I am left colourless; black and white as everything seeps away.  All my previous bravado about coping disappears.  I'm alone in my head.