At one time, I worked in a drug rehab facility that did seem like a pretty good place. Drug addiction doesn't happen to be a problem I've ever had, and I was astonished at the hold it seemed to have a those with the problem. I asked a doctor at this place the following question: "Do most of the people who come here ever really get off of the drugs, or do they just keep coming back here to try over and over again, unsuccessfully?"

The doctor said that "We need to redefine our notion of success." She said that "having periods of being off drugs is real success for these folks even when the abstinence doesn't last forever."

I've been relating that insight to my own very long struggle with chronically recurring depression. I do get intervals of feeling not depressed. They just never are permanent. They always eventually dissolve into depression again. I've become very demoralized by this, even though I'm not all that depressed at the moment. I'm not, but I'm also not doing anything constructive because I feel like, "What's the use?"

I know all the things that therapists and pdocs tell you in response to that complaint, and I tell myself all those things. But it's not doing any good right now. I'm here in this forum to try and connect with those who will really understand. For anyone who can understand: Don't you get so tired and discouraged to keep falling into that deep, steep rut over and over and over?

No matter how good I can be doing for awhile - and I do real well sometimes, for a while - it never lasts. I know that it never will. I know I will be fighting this till the end of my life. I am so demoralized that I keep having to start all over again. Lately, I wish I could just fall asleep and not ever wake up. I'm not even suicidal . . . just sick and tired of having to keep rolling this heavy stone up the hill, only to have it roll back down again. I am just in tears with the discouragement.

Yesterday, I went to my newly assigned pdoc and got my scripts renewed. I answered her series of questions like an impatient robot. I just wanted to get the scripts and get out of there. I have no interest whatsoever in talking to any pdoc, and I haven't been to a therapist in years. I did all that to death. They have nothing new to tell me . . . nothing that I haven't heard and read over and over.

It is what it is . . . chronic. I've known that for a long time, but right now I am demoralized to a degree that is sapping me of any will to even try to struggle. Either you do, or you don't. I'm in bed way too much and just keep falling asleep. When I can't sleep, I distract myself with the TV for hours, until I can. I turn to other forms of media . . . just looking to more or less entertain myself in some fashion, until I fall asleep again.

I guess I came here to wail the blues. But I want some relief. There has got to be something I can change. My main contribution to life is that I take care of my elderly friend. I'm tired of doing that. He gets weaker and more frail with every passing month. Watching his condition deteriorate is like watching paint fade. It's gradual and relentless. He won't eat anything nourishing that I cook for him, so I'm sick of cooking. His mind is fading and he spends more and more time just staring at the TV and has nothing to say. Doesn't really converse. It's like he's in a little boat, drifting out to sea, and gets further and further away every day. It's like the person I knew him to be is already gone . . . and I'm tired of trying to connect to this remnant of a human being. It's not him anymore. It's some residue of him. I'm coming to not care about this "residue."

I was doing a real good job that I was proud of. Now I'm not. I should go pick up some milk for him and bring it over, and I'm not . . . I just don't care. He calls me on the phone and has nothing to say. Now I'm having nothing to say, and I can hear his disappointment. I've told him that he has to make more of an effort to "be alive," or I can't keep making the effort. Inside of my head, I say to myself that I just wish he would die already. I know I will miss him horribly when he is gone.

We argued so much that we stopped living together years ago. Yet, still we are locked together. He was unfair to me a lot. This is unfair to me, now.

As part of my self-care plan, I'm supposed to find something to do that will be a change of pace from care-taking. I'm supposed to go exercise somewhere, or join some activity somewhere. I have no interest.

Sometimes you have to start something before you have any interest in it. We've all heard that advice to chronic depressives. You can't wait till you feel like doing what needs to be done. You have to start despite not feeling up to anything. Then, as you partake in some activity, you feel better. I know all that. Maybe I'll get dressed and leave the house.

I'm so sorry for him. I'm sorry for me. He has me to care for him. I have no one to be concerned for me. He used to be, but he isn't even able to anymore. I just want to fall asleep and never wake up.

I should clean my place up. It's getting to be a mess. I'll feel better, if I do.