rock clinging

I typed rock climbing, but auto correct wanted to change it to clinging.  It's like it knows me.  I am merely clinging.  Not making any upward progress.  Just holding on for dear life. 

Have you ever gone rock climbing?  And started out confident and doing well?  Then your arms and fingers started to get tired.  And your technique went out the window?  And now, you're just barely holding on, trying not to fall to your death?

That's my metaphor for life today.  My ophthalmologist gave me bad news that my vision is not only not improving, but it's deteriorating.  But hey, maybe some more surgeries will help.  Fuck you, doc.  I fell for that once.  I'm not gonna try to kick that football again, Lucy. 

So here I am, clinging to this rock, tears streaming down my face.  And they aren't lessening.  Exercise didn't even help.  Nor did brownies for dinner.  Or breakfast.  Or dinner again.  I'm not one who usually turns to food for solace.  Now I know why.  I'm still depressed, but now I'm fat and depressed.  Not at all helpful. 

I've stopped answering my phone.   I've stopped answering emails.  I've stopped answering texts. 

I took sleeping pills to fall into oblivion for a few hours, but then I woke up with my same problems.  I tried getting some sunshine out by my filthy pool.  We've had over six inches of rain the past few days, and half of my vegetation is in my pool.  I even wore my new bikini to cheer myself up.  Nothing is working.  Just clinging here.  And crying. 

I can't see the positives anymore.  Or, I should say, I can't feel them.  Logically, I know I still have some great things in the Plus column, but the tears keep falling.   The Minus column is simply too overwhelming right now.