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Friday, March 16, 2018

i don't feel loved

Still here. Not enough energy to leave.
Learning more and more about how little I know: about me, about everything.

I don't feel loved. Complicating this: I wouldn't recognize it if I was loved. Also, I don't feel loveable anyway.

I feel alone and lonely, I feel too far gone. How can I learn to love myself when I have no experience of feeling love or loved?  It's a deep hole I've dug. A series of caves and passages and chambers. I'm deeply hidden. Deeply damaged.

I cannot even imagine what feeling healthy - aka depression and ptsd-free - would feel like.

Good night.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Depression is killing me

Feeling so beyond-saving toxic. I'm my own chemical spill. Nothingness envelopes.

Frightening really, if I could feel anything so intense. Numbness or crying, that's my likert scale. Therapist helping me release, yet I wonder if I just keep stockpiling toxic feelings. The respite I have is numbness.

I'm so tired. So despairing of ever feeling better. I'm not sure if I even want to feel better anymore because of the hope  of it's possibility implied. Hope can be cruel when  nothing changes. I feel so weak, so unable to help myself. This toxic self loathing permeates every cell.


Where to go, what to do. Do I just give up and slowly erode into the earth? I kinda have given up in many ways. What remains?

There is band and choir.going out takes so much. Nothing feels easy or manageable, always fear-laden. I am bewildered to think that some people aren't depressed. It seems impossible to me. Can't imagine what feeling better would look like. Only maybe I would feel motivation. I would feel interest in things.

Everything feels hard. And I'm so tired. So tired.

Monday, January 1, 2018

more of the same

Thinking a lot about how I can learn to love myself. How can I make some changes so that I feel better. I realize I am mainly motivated by a desire to feel worth loving. Everything. If I get attention it lights a spark in me and I want to continue to receive the attention, and the n if it's unrealistic, not good, etc. I have this fantasy, this longing, to feel, to be, famous. And really, underneath that I just want to be loved. All my life wanting to feel cool, to be cool, to not be one of the mainstream to be special, worth noticing, worth loving. So strong this drive that I chose hurtful attention, cause some attention was better than none.

I feel kind of pathetic, clinging to scraps, searching for scraps. Not too clear on self-respect. Feel a danger to myself and others. Worry I'll ultimately alienate anyone who dares care for me. I'll waste their caring, use it up. And be left with an agonizing self-fulfilling prophecy that I am toxic, hence th driving everyone away ting.

I wish I felt quieter inside. I am thankful I have a brain and many creature comforts, in many ways quite fortunate. However.


Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Rotting suggests activity

Not well. discouraged, tired, sore. Nothing new to report. Same old shit. Feeling awful physically, emotionally, bored, yet unmotivated, everything feels overwhelming. I am full of sadness and aching and loneliness. People say I need to talk about what's happened in my life, I don't know where to begin. I have spoken about many things that haunt me, many times. Over and over again I revisit the pain, of betrayal, of shock,  of perpetual reception of the theme I am of wanted. I do not belong. I have not brought anything good into this world. I have not added to the good parts of this world. I have not raised children. I feel stagnant, rotting , although rotting does suggest activity.

I have thoughts of disasters and death, accidents.

Doing nothing. No art. No humour, no joy, nothing that humans find replenishing, just a foul, poisonous mass, increasing in latency.


Monday, October 16, 2017

tribute to Neil Young

trying medical marijuana again, so far a tiny buzz and frequent BMS, yeehaw.

Going to try acupuncture again.

No joy, just despair. Exhaustion of body and spirit. Although, let's do away with the dualisms, it's all one entity= me. Components of a person, all in disarray, so very lost, despair .  Broken record.

Keep thinking I need to add something new to these observations, yet there is nothing new, there remains the steady erosion of strength, every kind there is, dwindling, rusting, failing.  Hey hey, my my.

Friday, October 6, 2017

Are you having a bad day?

Just existing. Waiting, for what? Brutal. So very sad. Lifeless. Waiting for mm. New prescription. We'll see. Are there people who feel good out there?  naturally I mean. Cause I can't imagine it. I can't remember feeling well. There must have been times when I did.

The morning I was writing a letter, or at least trying, to my siblings. Somehow to account for my absence from their lives. But. They have lives. I cannot believe I matter to them, I suppose so, academically. I cannot imagine someone loving me because I feel,  Profoundly,unloveable. Really do. Crying, aching, searching. So tired. So very tired. Sleep somewhat improved but not rested. I imagine many many millions of people are sleep deprived. How do I speak my truth without sounding weak? Whining? It must be exhausting for the people around me. I keep people away, who wants to Hear my truth?

Are you having a bad day?

Yes, everyday.

A good day seems so improbable. I ruminate , obsess, negatively. Is it a choice? Have I made it such a habit that I have convinced myself there is no other possibility? Apparently. This fucking sucks. It sucks. It's really fucking hard . I hate myself. Profoundly. Hate. Not too fine a point. I hate me. I cannot see anyway around this, so through it I go.

Monday, October 2, 2017

birth as rejection

We are birthed as paradox. Rejection as life. So it has been seared into me. As I write I judge myself so fiercely. Everyone reminds me of how hard other people have it, how strong other people are. Is this meant to help me? It doesn't . It shuts me down.

So much rejection, small wonder I reject myself. If one is told enough times that one is wrong, fundamentally as in, then one believes they are wrong. And so it is. And so I am.

I cannot forget grade 7 and the petition to have me removed from the basketball team (yes, I am still thinking,feeling talking about this, fuck off) the shock of it. I was no longer safe. I could trust no one. I think there were things before, entrenching me.

And people in my life, a year ago, told me how much trouble I cause them. Like sharks they circled and struck. Left me bleeding out, apparently unaware of the damage they inflicted. And now some want to help.

No thank you.

The benign cruelty is worse than the overt. I'm not the first to think this. Not the first hurt, for sure. Nor sadly will I be the last. Can I help myself back to who I was/am meant to be?

Is it whining to speak my truth? Apparently for some.

Since I can find no one to be present and listen, can I do it for myself?  I guess that's what this blog is.  L.M. Seems genuinely interested in helping me. So the gift I can give myself is to talk with L.M. More often.