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.
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
9 months ago