I hope there's point to this

Feeling useless, being useless. Efforts to be out in the world, trying to give back, leave me strained. Drained, feeling insane. Unheard. Alone. I could be screaming and there's not even an echo in all these mountains and valleys, just me floating away into the void. Feeling invisible again, feeling like I want to just stop. Feeling unloveable and incapable of love, so broken inside. Inhuman.
Even when I was a quasi-contributing member of the world I felt a fraud, incompetent. That is my baseline. I'm venting, I could just say this out loud yet I think I write it down so I can look back and find evidence that I do exist, that I'm not a figment of my own imagination. Just hurting, raw, sometimes seeems unbearable yet I trudge on, I hope there's a point to this.

I need to stop reading other peoples' posts, it's so heartbreaking and it triggers so much shame, inadequacy, loneliness. I have no business responding to others', what I want is to take away everyone's pain, it's unbelievably brutal to read/hear history  after history of women who were brutalised  so young (and continue to be) and how instead of being loved and supported they were further derided and humiliated and traumatised, instead of laughed.  I know it is true, I never doubt, it rings true with me on so many ancient levels. I am so raw, bleeding, toxic, how can this continue, be in this world where so much good should be/ is possible? How can it be that so many still get hurt? And the tv schedule is full of more stories of women being  brutalised in physical, psychological and societal forms. There is always this undercurrent of blame the victim. I swear it romanticises being an abuser, it's so  so sick and I cannot see things getting any better here, but then I read/hear the hundreds/thousands/millions of accounts of courage in the face of this universal brutalisation of women and children. Women fighting back through the abuse-inflicted wreckage. Scrapping back, despite the terror infusing us all. Fighting just to believe their own truth. Such suffering is everywhere. I cannot bear it.  I have no  business responding to others' accounts, at best I can witness and validate

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

Magma of Sadness, Boundary Sine Waves and What's the Big Deal with Crying

I'm just easing out of a large crying jag - spillover desperation and frustration with puppy and triggers abound. I feel so very little sometimes, I think maybe the age i was when I first felt fear and violation. Because I feel so helpless and vulnerable, and my adult self feels so angry at all of this, things that hurt me, things that hurt others, it seems like I just feel it all indiscriminately - must be the wide open/clamped shut boundary sine wave  going on. It's why I stay home and cave it, as a comrade blogger so aptly puts it.


I spent many many years not crying, making myself not cry- no doubt a legacy of the "Don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about" mantra. Thus ensued this stoicism that I carried for years, a shallow toughness, industrial strength on the outside but a magma of sadness (new James Bond movie title) seething (sorry, counter intuitive) beneath. People have told me over and over again how strong I am/appear, I have been placed in leadership roles by volunteer or upsurge. How did they not see the fear? People are mostly feeling their own feelings and too busy worrying about themselves. My stoicism soon deteriorated into numbness. Now, today, all of those obstructed feelings want acknowledgment, and they do not share and do not cooperate. They prefer to exist as a horde.


Sometime I wonder if all these attempts to create community (of 2 or 9 billion) are fruitless, maybe why so many of us feel buttressed with yearning -  a fragile state. Maybe we are just all alone and attempts to share our lives with others are doomed. I feel so alone, so often, I hope others don't feel this way, it's crippling.


OK, I've stopped crying now. Maybe I'll watch some royal wedding, I just care about the outfits.

The Ugly thoughts of a Broken Brain

Started MAOI a couple weeks ago, I was feeling very vulnerable and my emotions were crawling all over my skin. I'm really scared these new meds won't work, won't help, cause my options are dwindling. It can be said that me trying new meds indicates willingness to keep fighting for my life, because that is my reality, even if no one else on this planet gets it. I'm pretty fucked up right now, maxing out on paranoia, ugly thoughts. I even made an appt with the pharmacist to talk about MAOIs, she brought up ECT. That fucking sucks. I just want to feel some sense of balance with a smattering of joy but I'm losing hope that will ever prove possible for me. Indeed, why should I ask for this when so many people are dying as I write from hunger. Poor Africa just keeps getting fucked over. I feel so selfish for asking for more. I feel undeserving of joy. And nothing anyone says changes this for me. I have a broken brain.