Flood Warning

woke up with another bad headache, it's ridiculous how I always spend time pondering whether to just try and sleep it off, that NEVER works, so anyways I did take some meds. Maybe the higher effexor dose is too high.

I just completed a pre-blog survey and unsurprisingly, it was triggering for me. I think the most accurate emotional descriptor I could use is blocked (haha first I wrote blogged, thank you Mr. Freud [sorry, Prof/Dr.]) and with blocked there is no movement, no sensation, have to dig to get at things, I think this writing becomes akin to digging out what I am feeling. Because the longer, even the faster I write (with concomitant typos of course) I get to feeling faster, and the tears come the blissful (sort of) flooding, the
ebbing, I have constructed a sandbag facade and have worked years to have it take hold and hold fast but I can still,eventually get the feelings to crest above and beyond. Despite this concrete(wet concrete to be sure) evidence of sadness, I STILL question, why, how come? Why so much, have I not reached the end of tears? What the hell indeed. I'm still and maybe forever, on flood watch and when I write it's inevitably flood warning. I should not read the news for starters.

I have been googling funny things, things, images, quotes that make me laugh and I feel like it such a pathetic waste of time, but it makes me laugh, where I often wonder at my ability to appreciate humour anymore. It's one of the first things I lost, or rather mislaid, because it returns in bits, I see it first in my response to others'  humor, but once in a while now I say funny things, I used to be known as being funny, Now I feel like I am just a perpetual drag, the dearth of incoming phone calls that are for me (and not computer  generated).

No one calls me. I feel so lonely, I feel a failure at just being human (ahh here they come, the tears) The trigger of acknowledging how lonely,I feel, and I do it to myself I know...

There was a pause, there, I had a pretty "good" (funny, yet commonly used adjective, weird I think) cry, then sudden cessation. And I feel ashamed, I was completely alone, no dog, no husband and I felt like  I needed to hide, I pulled my shirt up over my face, who was I hiding from, yeesh.

Now my husband and dog are back from their morning walk and I was hosing off the dog, he is a gift and a challenge, a good challenge, I forces me to focus to stand up for myself. I'll walk him this afternoon, it will be low tide, perhaps I will beach comb.

Meta

Self-referential.
Yup.
It's another catch-22 methinks: how then do we know ourselves unless it is in relation to others. We can only see what we reflect off of others, what others mirror back to us. I think. I was tired to day, awake in the night. Off to the GP (not guinea pig) and a recommendation for an increase in effexor. Then to the pharmacist who said"Oh, it's good that you're checking your BP..." cause I do that, and I guess it's one of the side-effects, so voila instant discouragement set in and I cried and the pharmacist was very kind, which somehow made it worse. She asked if she could do anything, I shook my head, wanted her -someone, anyone - to just take it all away. I just want to feel like my daily aspiration is not just: baseline. Argh.

The Aftermath

Gains and setbacks. eating my feelings, got into the traditional holiday devouring-everything-in-sight tradition and am just starting to decompress and sense some balance returning (I am a libra after all, strange how balance is also indecision). It's just change isn't it, no matter the context good or bad there is a change, a shift in my unsteady state. Some thoughts worthy of epiphany status, some just old, ancient even, companions. Connecting with a new friend, sharing collegial and human experiences finding common grounds, this is helpful, helps challenge the dominance of isolation, evidence of me fighting back, taking a stand against myself as it were. Finding that somethings that I thought were paradox are not, some seemingly  co-existing impossibilities simply attest to our complex natures. The taxonomy of good and evil, can't do it, cannot have just two labels of black and white, can't.
We are levels upon/beneath levels of behaviours, capacities, resolutions, results.
When I eat my feelings  there is no satiation there is only compacted numbness, so dense it is ironically unfelt, hence the zombie/coma status. Only when I am called upon to raise my thoughts, my eyes, dare I say my hope, I must first break through this density, this blackhole of self where time shifts - where the present the here and now is subdivided incalculably - as soon as I name it now it is become past - the present maybe can never be registered on time, we are too slow to notice, is everything then too late, are we all doomed to act in the aftermath?