As Karma is to Caramel

i've been eating my feelings all day, alone working on my project, feeling entirely inhuman. No one to call, of my own doing. what would I talk about: sorry I have completely alienated you  but now I need someone to lean on so give over? this strange numbness, the physical shit going on that's part withdrawal and part just my weird health state. some say i need to talk about some things but I'm unclear about what, so i guess I need to typographically dig through this layer of top"soil" (I thought soil had mostly good connotations). I know the sadness is there, always, lurking, and I can feel it more and more as I type, but it's just so very odd feeling, beyond description, except for the heavy emptiness about it. Disconnected, lonely, so lonely,(ok here come the tears) so weird, so freaky, just wrong, just bad, just "off".  Here in the ether dwell genuine kind hearts, truly caring, but it doesn't connect to me. I don't even know where or how to begin to feel human, I don't know what that means, what it might look like, I feel like I just was born faking it. No desire to do anything, mystified by this no desire: shouldn't I feel something strong (or ok weak) for anything, why so much nothing? Is this just simply coping with what life was handing me? Did I just decide I needed to cope and switched into full-on cope mode? Did I come into the world screaming and never stop? Did no one hear this screaming and wonder why and decide to help? Was I not worth listening to (more tear, flood flood). Apparently I've screamed myself silent, I guess that's what happens when you think no one hears or worse, cares to hear. It happened today, I got a call from someone, they asked how I was  'No, really" so I sort of said in a way I thought they could manage and they then proceeded to talk about themselves. The loneliness is horrible . The agony of being with others is horrible. I don't know which is worse. Feeling my pain or someone else's. Ironically, it's all my own, I just keep channelling myself through others. My tear ducts needed some cleaning, I've been holding a lot in, afraid of what really saying would do. So afraid. So convinced of pending doom. So convinced of my innate wrongness. My entire blog is redundant, what does being heard mean? Does having a witness to my own stuff (that I believe - how's that for messed up?) end up making any difference, does being seen/heard heal me? Am I healable? What did I do to bring this on anyway, must have been a bad move karma-kly (Karmally? Karmal? Caramel?).
Nothing like some random mind stream of write to get me some crying done.

withdrawal continues

body aches several days now
multiple bms (although lessening overall)
morning nausea
tiredness
waking up in the night (ok that's been happening for years)
unsteady on my feet (several recent spectacular falls with bruising and small bloodletting)
dizzy
confusion
really having trouble focussing compared to what I know I have been capable of
more memory issues
pondering suicide by lightning (aka dying by choice in a way that no one feels guilty about afterwards and can say "It was just a terrible accident"


How do others stay motivated? What keeps people going? Are there really people in this world who feel ok most days? Are there people who sleep well?

I'm trying to gather evidence that I am not just not trying hard enough, that I do have real barriers against functioning. It's hard to believe and yet not.

Easy to cry  - comme toujours (I am Canadian after all).

eh?

Saturday night treat night

does anyone else wander around feeling like a complete alien? I just walked through a very  crowded campground full of parents and children and pets and singing and laughing and other camping/regular human activities.

I don't feel like I belong anywhere. Even my recent family related travel extravaganza went extravagantly bad.

there was an open mike at the camp ground with this kind of country fiddle, etc band but I knew if I had tried to sing I would have just cried. So many things hurt, and it's so bewildering

I want to fit in and I am terrified of being close.

Short-winded Clonazepam Experimentation Saga-ette

Previous 2 nights 1.0 clonazepam
& prev 2 mornings migraines with a generous side of nausea
& 222s
& constipation
 = .5 pam and hope for no migraine

being tired beats being tired and migranular.

I have impressively inrageous (not righteous) anger - it does not flare, it lashes out like a cobra.

How It Happens (aka subject change)

Tiredness sucks light out of everything. Tiredness digs deep, dark, slippery-sided holes. Not tunnels, tunnels imply a way out or through. Holes.

Tiredness increases vulnerability leaves only tight spaces for choices. Vision impairs and gets impaired. Dubious behaviours.

Hard choices are harder, sliding away appeals.
My crying makes everything that much more slippery.

Doom likes to keep its options open.

too tired to capitalise

Trigger trigger what's NOT a trigger

Hectares ( ok maybe just acres) of emotional minefields

It's impressive/depressing how fast my dominant emotion can change. I guess therein lays the provenance of "emotional roulette" (with a generous underpinning of the Russian kind, woohoo, triple entendre!). Wheel                 of              

I'm so fucking tired right now. I need to sleep, why won't my effing brain let me just sleep, just one night for a change. The only med I still take is (insert opening salvo here) -pam and for all the good is does me...

I think pharmaceutical companies are focussed on numbing people out (aka silencing them) instead of actually developing truly curative aka beneficial drugs. Cheaper to go for the numbing I guess. Our world is such an unholy mess, massive racism once again at the fore as the horn of Africa is dealt yet another (still) drought, another1/2 million children goners. Holocausts every 6 months really. Are people just too tired to care? Or is that too generous a sentiment? How about: people do not care.

I know I'm all over the place but it's just that I'm all over the place. Can't conjure up some poemy thing tonight. Just tired.

Took 1.0 of ____ pam. We'll see.

Bits and Jack Layton

Back from a  walk, have been wanting to write all the time, just let stuff out, get it out. I am sad to hear that one of our best and brightest Canadians died this morning from cancer, Jack Layton, what a loss - there needs to be another word for loss. I hope his family has a lot of support around them and I hope people learn from his very fine examples.

Wake Up

Morning again

just once to feel rested
just once to feel light it seems too much  to ask
I have food
I have water

I have love             from others
I have shelter

I have things
but sadness always wins
sadness is on top
again

morning

Manipulative Me

guilt
what do I own
what is owned by others
suspecting some inevitable crossover

shame
I said how I felt to ease my own  snarl and others noticed and loved
I felt power and shame
shame that I scare people
shame that people worry for me
power that what i said caused someone to notice
shame rinses away the love
shame is the straightener
shame cuts and hones itself

worry and love
either skims over treacherous airs and waters
i the perfect skipping stone
i miss (escape?)  purchase
i elude capture
capture could prove better
but is clearly chance-ridden

so elusion and ill-usion remain

I'm just water

this is too hard, rage pain so sad, so many tears, i thought I cried a lot before, everything is wounding me scabs have no time to form everywhere i turn is pain, someone else's mine i don't know where mine comes from it just hurts raw, raw can't take too much more don
t want to go home  just want to pick fights don't want to hurt anyone else don't want anyone else to hurt cause i just hurt more i feel like some sort of pain barometer, i register it around me i can't defend myself i can't stop it

no words

salt
water
core feelings akin to species provenance

salt
water
born in it drowning in it

i'm just water flowing pushed around hiding in the low spaces stepped in stepped on frozen

i'm just water

i want to boil myself all away