New Meds - here goes something

new meds, cymbalta, seem to be helping - certainly the edge is further away, and I have laughed a little bit in the past week. so that is cautiously encouraging.

sleep would be nice, but I'll work at one thing at a time I guess. yeehaw

I just want to feel better

sleep, sort of, woke up laying in bed awake, have an appt to see GP for referral to psych and I guess new meds, it's clear I need something. I just don't know what's out there that maybe could work with no side effects, but I'm thinking that's impossible . If I introduce a foreign substance into my system I can expect my system t odo weird shit in response.

Thinking about suicide thinking I couldn't beat the hurt I would cause, so I just feel more trapped.

I just want to feel better.

Like anyone who is ill.

Hyperbole and a Half: Depression Part Two

Hyperbole and a Half: Depression Part Two



This is how it is for me. Thank you hyperbole and a half.

disappointed i woke up

despair crying doesn't even give me relief, triggered, embarrassed, tired when I go to bed, tired when I wake up. disappointed when I wake up, that's a very scary feeling too.

want to live, but not this way, want to feel better

Sketchy Sleep Hygiene

overall I think I'm better but this was a tough morning, too many mother references and my grief (at not being one) feels so fresh

tired too,  that generally makes for a rough morning, but I went out, walked the dog,  got some groceries

trying not to be too anxious and feel like I've already failed before the art shows actually happen

I seem quite gifted at self-fulfillng prophecies of doom, feels like a skill I've honed since birth, willing it away if I can.

time for naps.

so much for good sleep hygiene

Back on track

tired  but definitely feeling less depressed most mornings in the past week, hurray

Perhaps the neurofeedback is helping, I thought it had before, I'd just had a few setbacks, but now maybe I'm back on track!

doubt builds a highrise

Plummeting.

Struggling not to stay down but clearly I  need release. My fledgling confidence crumbles and doubt builds a highrise.

Upcoming art show in Vancouver leaving me feeling the impostor. Trying not to compare and find myself wanting but of course, yadayada.

Every artist is different , I know this and my work has value. It just may be that I will be the lesser talent. That has to happen that must needs happen, it's inevitable. Perhaps there will be some that prefer my work. I just wish that being second wouldn't feel like failure.

I am fortunate to be in this show.

So broken.

Lonely. What's new. My heart aches.

I don't know which is worse, the loneliness I feel when I am alone or the loneliness I feel when either with or looking at people.

I know it's not what is meant for a human existence, it's counter-survival, so that at least satisfies me that there is something wrong about how my mind works, I know I've seen the EEGs, yet I still doubt. There is a part of me that wants me to be the deliberately bad thing that it is something I have chosen, .like a part of me is gaslighting myself. That crazy-making psychological abuse lives inside me, doubting every conclusion I draw. And stillI ache.

Trying to get to the feelings and out of my head. Everyone makes mistakes right? So why do I never cut myself any slack. I cut people out of my life instead. Auto-removal.
Poisonous one that is me.

Here's an idea I've been idea-ing for a while - write songs about depression.

I hurt. I am sad. I want to cry all the time (that's sounds singable doesn't it?).

So broken.

Just let me cry already.

Thank you.

Navel and Natal gazing

thoughts wandered over to grieving my child of ill development and short time span. If she (?) had lived she would be 7 years old. What we could have done together.

Where would I be now? How would I feel? Was it instead a blessing not to bring a child into and under the presence/influence of one such as I? One who oozes her negative thoughts, her low self esteem, her inestimable sadness. That felt like a descent into the purple of prose. Words sometimes are so satisfying and also woefully inadequate. Another favourite phrase.

So not really much further ahead with PhD stuff. Down a therapist too, so, blog.

The sadness I feel at being childless is very strong, it persists. Does it also subsist - on a the bed of depression so carefully in readiness, cultivated over 40 years prior?

I find myself wishing there was other, more concrete (in physicality and global acceptance of its existence) "condition" with which I was (am) living something so widely accepted that even I could accept it, something that even I could not question as to its veracity its palpability. This haze of depression has weight, it has mass, it has substance and it has influence.

How goes it navel?

sigh

Caked in Darkness

feeling quite lonely and I know it's what I have created for myself because I find it so hard to be around most people the isolation is stinging.  i haven't gone anywhere much since returning from Vancouver and the loneliness is charged.

i'm feeling physically better so perhaps my fears aren't that justified perhaps it's cysts coming and going

the pain has certainly decreased and so it's maybe even IBS, not sexy but manageable.

depression really fucking sucks

i want everyone to know and to feel sorry for me that's certainly true and simultaneously don't want anyone to talk to me and also want to talk to someone.

but talking is only a temporary fix i want a permanent end to this fucking shit

i want an end to  the paranoia

i want to stop hurting other people with my poison i want to stop being/feeling poisonous.

i long for some peace

most of the time when I ask myself the question as serious as I can, when I contemplate it most soberly I think i want to live but I find it very hard

there is so little joy

there should be some I think, joy that is

i would like to be someone who really lives who really lives the crap out of life

Robin Williams' suicide has hit very close and I feel a little ashamed of this because he is a stranger to me and yet I know we could have conversed familiarly on the lure of death and our efforts to numb adn also to feel something other than this darkness

caked in darkness
without the sweetness

doused in darkness
there was no flame

poetry escapes me

skin as casket

over 3 months no effexor

i'm still here but i'm having additional worrisome symptoms which i did see my doc about. he thinks most likely irritable bowel, certainly that could be but there's other stuff going on so I called back. we shall see. had some blood work done, we'll see if anything shows. I noticed he's checking that gland again whose name escapes which had been checked a decades ago but was fine then. Having been doing too much.

encased in a skill of con-life.

Robin Williams is dead of suicide.

fuck

the chicken dinosaurs of depression

this vile skin that has encased me, holds me captive, relentless, panoptic, vicious, tireless eater of my soul. wants me gone, wants me dead. it's exhausting fighting this invisible opponent, exhausting fighting myself.

so very tired. feeling so bad.

nothing peaks my interest, my laughter is so sparse.

brutal, slow, tiny little bites like those little chicken dinosaurs.

people try and help and i do appreciate that they care, or at least i try to. but there doesn't seem to be any lift, any break, any amelioration.

more big words that don't quite capture the dread and despair that are my constant companions.

fuck

Brodman Areas

trapped in nether zone, not up not down not even, well I guess down cause I feel flat, like a bottom of something. Bored but not energised to fill my time with something interesting. Tomorrow I take my work down to the show and they will set it up along with my colleagues' work (note the term used).

Back to neurofeedback, read up on my affected Brodman areas, it makes sense. 2 regions of note are those associated with "treatment resistant" depression (whatever) and that would appear to be me. Also involved are heavy thinking associated with unremitting downward spirally thinking, that again would be me.

Feeling pretty friendless. I think I try very hard to control my surroundings and I think that includes the people I choose to be in my life. I think, and this is not pretty or easy to admit, that I have very manipulative behaviours and that I try to surround myself with people  whose behaviours I think can predict - pretty arrogant, but also true I think. I am a controlling person. Not very nice.

I am working on being a kinder person, more driven by compassion than my hurt feelings. Cause i get triggered then want to lash out at the target in question but then if I act out of compassion instead, there is the opportunity for growth and healing, perhaps for both of us.

I just wish I didn't feel so shitty all of the time. That really is awful, hurting so much so often, it just stops me. It just stops me from participating in this world in a meaningful way.
Bleah.

My eyes aren't adjusting well

and plummeting down again, it's so discouraging. making headway it seems then I'm back in this hole. shit.
but the bright side is that if I am having moments of above the line this is what throws my down side into sharp relief.
so much is going on that is positive and life-force affirming but now that, for the first time in a long time., I have something to compare the blackness to, it seems blacker, my eyes do not adjust so well. And I just feel so tired and spent, it really sucks.
This above the line feels so  fragile, I place so much trust in it and then it falls apart. surprise.
blah.

On my way

so much better. although a migraine is plodding out of my head.

Met with an incredibly authentic, kind, gracious, brilliant woman at UVic who has agreed to be one of my PhD supervisers. Such an overwhelming feeling of gratitiude. I felt not only heard, but seen. Being seen and welcomed aboard is so very validating, although the term validating is inadequate to express how I felt while speaking with her.

I immediately wrote to another prof who said no but who encouraged me to contact some other folks. Which reminds me I may have a "cross" referral there too! Better get to it.

After this emboldening, heartening experience, I  could feel all of the other recent crap just float away in its mediocrity and smallness. Sigh.

Feeling a lot less obsessed over fb.  I am so relieved, a very powerful addiction for me, I realise I would never be able to use it in a healthy way. I am better off blogging and emailing and skyping and telephoning and writing. And walking!

I am so thankful that I have had these recent reminders of what happiness can feel like, and I know more clearly now what got me there. I think definitely the more intensive exercise and getting serious about my diet.

So let's go...

Addiction

clearly I have been addicted to FB, I feel this big hole in my life and that is not good.

Fuming: the cows aren't home yet

I really wrestling with some pretty intense feelings over what happened. Starting to doubt myself again , feeling like it was just me that fucked up and that if I had been a better facilitator things would have worked out differently and yet there is another part of me that is the more grounded voice saying, no I got ambushed. And I scrambled to find some solid ground and said things I wish I hadn't in ways I wish I hadn't, feeling very foolish and punished.
Fuck.

I am grateful to have a couple really wondrous friends in my life right now who work hard at listening (hopefully I provide that for them as well) and I feel like a shithead for asking for that support but I know I would unquestionably give them the same so I guess I still have a long uphill battle to take my space and stand my ground and really value myself in the way I encourage others to value themselves.

Fuck.

I guess I'll just keep processing til the cows come home.

Gaslight

I was gaslighted.

That is what happened.

I stood up for myself against a man who thought I had no right to. So he ambushed and punished me.

A master of the gaslight.

Fucker.

Partie Deux

My therapist is encouraging me to honour my rage, as a means to honour my feelings whilst keeping me safe from harm. It is so tricky to allow myself to express it, I think it is why i appreciate hard physical labour so much. We talked about swimming and the other day I felt so good after a very challenging hike (clearly haven't been hiking too strenuously lately).

I feel held hostage by the intensity of my feelings and I know, I know, that keeping them inside is so much more dangerous for me. My fuse is so short.

So what does honouring my anger look like?  Is it like the guys who place the charges on the mountainside in order to trigger a safer avalanche? is it like deliberately setting a fire to burn a patch of forest to prevent the out of control fire from jumping across? Is it that volcano I saw in Costa Rica (Arenal) that erupts just a little everyday so it doesn't blow like St Helen's? I guess so since I was coming up with these metaphors (?) that speak to me.

I talked about blogging and that I thought it was helpful. The physicality of typing is a necessary component, there needs to be some sort of physical expression coinciding with the words I choose to record.

So the strenuous hike, so healthy for all the reasons. perhaps a bit more screaming into my pillow.
Swimming, a strong stroke.
Swimming in Maui helped keep me grounded for sure.

I have been picking up and putting down my art, this is the most frustrating part, I cannot, or at least feel unable to, work on my art, that is how rattled I am.

What happened today was so utterly unjust. It explains how shattered I feel right now. My feelings attest to the reality of this harsh experience for me.

Ugliness. Punished for standing up for myself.

Scuttled

feeling really fucked over by a friend and an entitled male who decided to make me into the person (I was nearly convinced myself) who was creating all of the problems.

I find it so challenging to stand my ground when I am in conflict with someone who is seems to feel so completely right and justified and even outraged in their view of how things went bad (methinks the not-gentleman doth protested too much?). So yes I got derailed, had moments of strength but felt so intimidated and unnerved by this person's aggressively expressed convictions that I was the one doing wrong. I think now that it was a case of someone who knows they are behaving disrespectfully, on some level, but their denial of it is so fierce they cannot see let alone speak with clarity. It completely unhinged me. Their anger, their loud voice their demand that I explain myself, very intimidating and frightening for me. What I did was ask that we keep the agreement that we made. He accused me of dictating what should happen. He clearly saw himself as a victim. WOW. I honestly felt so scuttled I did not know where to go or what to say. I felt like I was trying to hide.

Very difficult to address. Feeling very beat up and, worse, unsupported aka thrown to the wolves by the friend in attendance. Perhaps the friend felt they had no choice but to mollify (the man, not me) because that was what they did, in my perspective anyway.

And yes, will discuss with safe real friends in order to explore what I could have done differently/better. That was definitely not a safe venue to be vulnerable.

Although I am reminded that the clarity resulting from this experience -  of having my instincts about a person so undeniably confirmed - will eventually serve as very concrete evidence to boost confidence in my ability to assess who I allow in my safe circle.

Eventually anyway.

Right now I feel really beat up and exhausted. And so so saddened that this so-called - now clearly former - friend did NOT have my back. NOT.

So a couple months from now my commitment to these 2 people will be complete and I can move on. Very sad.
Argh.

A really great day

today was a really great day. Full of being outside, good friends and good talks. Felt something almost like peace, can't remember the last time, very grateful I was able to feel this good today.

the flood

so tired but can't sleep. 24 days since no effexor
filled with rage
so very little patience
despairing
i have made appts with the people who have helped me in the past so there is that
i have no tolerance for bullshit
no tolerance for inauthentic people
no tolerance for myself it seems
i feel like i am running away from myself as hard as i can but i still find me and it is death it is destruction chasing me disguised as me it's so confusing and terrifying and only so very few people i can tell
i am so scared so worried i am not to going to make it like i am trapped in a flood watching myself hopelessly ebb away
helpless to do anything but lay down and hope, Hope, hope it will pass
awww sweet tears
i feel so alone but i impose it on myself
i am toxic
 i am poison and my angry outbursts make it so
leave me lone so i can die
please don't leave me alone
i cannot find any solid ground or thought
everything shifts under my tentative feet
so maybe i should stop moving but then death will find me am trying to help myself trying
everything else must need fall away

Listen as Hard as you can

up too early, exhausted. ate too much before bed. cried a ton yesterday. there is a threat against my dog, he doesn't know what's going on. feeling like a failure.
Off my antidepressants, tired of the many side affects and I was still depressed. what a racket.
So I'm trying to resume the neurofeedback, to get grounded to feel desperate.
My companion  suicide is louder and my resolve to keep alive dwindles I am not built to thrive in this world.
Stephen Fry advises people not to ask "Why?" when someone says they are depressed. Good, cause
I don't fucking know. And it's only my business. I wish I felt there was more people I could call and talk to but as is so often the case, when I mention depression or suicide, people start talking and stop listening. I understand they are afraid, I understand they want to help. Listening to someone talk about their depression is really hard. Being a really good listener is very hard.
So if you want to help, listen, listen as hard as you can.
That shows you care.

Death infusion

felt sick today with migraine so popped some 222's and slept in, Ken walked Strider.

some of my painted work

I am glad I do not have children, I think I would have been a terrible presence. I feel like one in Ken's and Strider's lives. So anxious. I wonder if K wonders if this will be the day he hears about me or finds me. This potential of him going through that trauma (will he feel devastated, relieved?) is what keeps me alive. The worry he might (I don't know) feel must really wear at him. Truth sometimes I resent that , it's weird kind of catch-22 that I want so desperately to be loved and simultaneously resent those who profess to love me (I don't love, how can you?), feel like it's emotional blackmail. But I don't say this to anyone because that feels pretty hurtful, manipulative. Ken works hard to be a very positive person.

I am feeling a glimpse of what it must feel like to be happy because of the 222 afterglow. I would like very much to feel this way naturally.  I have compulsive thoughts quite frequently. those longings for comfort that lead me to choose to scour my cupboard and consume whatever is there, that in the past made me choose to drink a lot, shop a lot, and other worse riskier things.

Glad my crisis has passed, these are quite horrible. A kind of unrelenting, bleak despair permeates deep into my skin, into my organs, my bones. It's not chemotherapy it's a wave death infusing then eventually passing through til next time. Blah.

1000 skirmishes

Another bad morning I am swimming in sadness it's good to release but I despair

Losing my fight feels like a fight every day sometimes I feel like there are 1000 little skirmishes going on in my brain some days it feels like I'm just watching the nuclear warhead drop on my head and wondering if I'll make out the sun is shining today the sun doesn't do anything except make me feel guilty for not being outside

This microphone helps but I have no it's not a stream of consciousness or it is not amenable to a stream of consciousness writing which typing or handwriting does perhaps if I articulated
Articulation feels like editing and sometimes when I feel so sad I words cannot get out fast enough and the bottleneck gets excited thinking "we're coming out we're coming out" but I choke more on the words it didn't make it. This is me sighing.

Is one that I think about all the time that I've never ever sit here headed to two people now is it spam so very fight fear afraid of hurting people I don't have homicidal thoughts I fear that me speaking my truth will prove so devastating to those who love me, yet if I am truly loved my truth cannot be rejected by those who love me.

My multiplying gathering densifying black hole of fears and sucking me inside if I give room to my feelings and I give room for me to come back to emerge from this maelstrom this.

I just lost a whole bunch of writing sucks I had been talking about the diff the critical difference between giving up and what acting on suicidal thoughts feels like it's not giving up it's running out of energy

Microphone blog

This morning I'm tired but I feel better than I did when I wrote yesterday's post time on a roller coaster I guess I'm speaking my blog just as an experiment definitely feel strange thing physically typing somehow more satisfying when I was in my teens I wrote pages and pages of a journal I wish I still had them but then I think just just to wonder about if I have that things have changed for me but I think I was worried that maybe they haven't so maybe it's better people say not to look back. I'm also experimenting with this method to see if I actually speak English and if my microphone understands me so it's interesting makes me laugh a little bit like I have so much to say but not enough of the right words I wish I didn't feel depressed I wish I didn't eat weird stuff I know I feel alone and empty and I seek comfort seek to comfort my hurting in yourself maybe maybe the recent struggles are signs that my feelings are coming out more and being hurt hurt sorry heard and it's just time and maybe I'll feel better once out.

I think I prefer to type my blogs it's more satisfying this is an interesting experiment and it is good to know is available to me

Dread

I am struggling more and more too much going on not enough release and grounding. Suicidal thoughts daily, still no clear plan,mostly fantasizing methods,no actions towards any of these. A slow dread has been stalking and escapsulating me for months ow. There has been death in the past couple years, a family member,a friend and other upheavals. Feeling like just letting go of
Life not really sleeping well, never have of course. Once in awhile I get a chunk of solid hour or,aye even two. But that's it so tired a great del.feelingvulnerable, bitey (the word popped into my head). When in doubt just ake upward. I think a lot has to south how strong iwasfeelingandhowexcited, atoned I was to take some steps toward my phd and even had a skype interview witha prospective supervisor then I crashed. Hard.and i dont think I have recovered yet. I haven't seen my therapist for awhile so i guess I,m due.