i used to have debilitating social anxiety resulting in depression. for years i was afraid to answer my cell phone, leave my house, or make eye contact with anyone. i felt guilty for hating my life since it wasn't that bad. but i sought help and overcame it. i haven't been depressed in two years. in fact, i've been quite happy. i thought my life was finally moving in the right direction.
then i was diagnosed with tb. it's nothing serious. i'll get better. but for the past month and a half i've been under quarantine and being in the same fucking apartment every day for six weeks straight, not even having the option of leaving is starting to get to me. all the same familiar symptoms and starting to reappear, and i fear i'm headed exactly where i used to be. depressed, pathetic, and lonely. i know i don't have any friends (which is my own fault for being so damn unsocial), which has only been confirmed by two or three people checking in on me since i've been sick (all of whom completely forgot i was sick once they realized i had a contagious disease that could possibly put them at risk. essentially, screw you, what about me?). my parents love me, but they are on the other side of the country and can't visit me because i'm in quarantine. i feel terribly alone and i don't have anyone to blame but myself for being such a shitty friend. i feel guilty for having to disappear from work for what will probably be months, making all my coworkers take on extra shifts for me in my absence. i have a good boyfriend who i live with, but he lost his job at the same time that i was quarantined. now we don't have any money (due to my lost income from quarantine), and that coupled with the stress and monotony of seeing each other every waking moment of every waking day is starting to eat away at our relationship. i have to rely on him for everything. if i get my period he has to go to the drugstore to get my tampons. if i want to get cigarettes or food or ANYTHING i must ask him to do it. i feel awful for making him do things for me. i feel like a lazy piece of shit. he says he doesn't mind, but i know it annoys him and he only says it doesn't because no one can blame me for getting sick. he has all these things he's mad at me for which he can't talk to me about because while it's understandable why he's mad, it's just not the type of thing you say to someone who can't do anything about it. and i'm mad at him for all these understandable but ultimately irrational things as well. like being able to leave the house whenever he wants. or leaving me at home while he hangs out with this friends. i've been in quarantine for six weeks. i can't expect him to stay with me all the time, but i get mad at him when he leaves because i'm afraid of being alone and i know i shouldn't. i have no reason to. but i am. and that guilt keeps me from talking to him about it. so we both don't talk to each other about our feelings because we don't want to put our irrational thoughts and hang ups on the other person. but this breakdown in communication is tearing us apart.
so now i am more alone then ever. there is nothing for me to do at home. i knew i would get depressed again if i had to stay in my house. i asked the tb dr about therapy or anti-depressants, but the pills take two weeks to take effect so they won't prescribe me them because they keep on thinking i'm only gonna be in quarantine for "another week and a half, two weeks at most." i can't see a therapist because, well, i can't see fucking anyone. i feel myself slipping back to the place i worked so hard to get out of. when will i get better? i'm now starting to realize that no matter how hard i try, i will always end up depressed because i am a WEAK person. when something bad comes along, i let it ruin my world. i let it bring me down instead of rising above it. i tried so hard to be strong, and i was for the first few weeks. but the past couple have just been a quick spiral into despair. i am pathetic. i will always be pathetic. i make everyone hate me, including myself. no matter how good things get, something bad will always come along and i will end up depressed again. the idea of being depressed on and off for the rest of my life is paralyzing. i would never wish that on anyone, except i guess myself. because truthfully, i could avoid that lifetime of misery and pain if i just killed myself but of course i'm too scared to do that.