The loss of things I’ll never know I lost

 I’m so far inside and my self hatred is spilling over into imagining others hate me too. I’m so low right now yet ironically sort of safe cause I have no energy or motivation to hurt myself.  This is not living. It’s hard . Everyday. I’m up, obsessing over people’s imaginary hatred of me.

There a quote yesterday on FB that fit for me. Speaking of the grief that accompanies trauma. The loss of things I’ll never know I lost. Because so much was stolen from me. Because I’m so disconnected, so with drawn, so well defended. I’m incapable, or certainly feel incapable, of forming real connections with others. I still feel strange. Alien. Increasingly so. 

I know we all carry burdens. Troubles. Yet I look around and see people that are living, playing out their lives with seeming purpose. They haven’t given up.

I suppose I haven’t given up either yet I’m so fucking tired. There is nothing of interest.nothing. And I just hide. I lie in wait. What for? I wish I knew. Some relief? It’s up to me. There’s no one coming for me except death. Everyone is trying to get by. Everyone is thinking of their own way to manage this life. I’m on my own. Alone with all the other lonely. I’m losing my ability to reach out. I feel unfixable.

All those things I’ve mentioned before. They all still apply. Yet I protect others from me. There seems no point in telling others of my internal wasteland. The voice in my head constantly admonishing me for weakness, ego, whining: anything I think - it has a disparaging answer for.

Grief and self talk as ear worm

Attended my first death cafe the other night. I enjoyed it. And I realize I have so much unresolved and/ or unexpressed grief. I heard they had a mourning cafe so decided to try it out.

There was so much that was good about this café, but the parts that weren’t good I really got triggered by there were eight people in addition to one facilitator apparently there’s normally two facilitators, but one was not available that day and one of the group members talked so much took so much air time. I was really really uncomfortable and annoyed and the facilitator did absolutely nothing to reel them in so I decided to speak up and I didn’t handle it well and ended up alienating all the people that I just met and have been getting smiles and an encouragement from.

I’ve been feeling so low. Feeling every hit from the states. Fear and helplessness, despair over all the hurts to our planets, to the animals on the earth. Feeling like such a waste of life. Whistling the same tune really. I’m my own ear worm. 

That’s it. The same hateful talk searing my brain and my soul. The cruelty. It’s been so relentless and I guess unchecked it’s no longer words but also feelings. Dense clouds of depression saturating my being. I’m soaking in it *sing song* Relax it’s depression.

Fuck

I’m so torn about groups.  It was so painful to hear of the other folks’ losses. Burning my heart. At the risk of making myself sound heroic or something I have so much empathy and I listen so deeply it’s why I couldn’t do social work anymore. It was killing me. Still is.

That one group member is a man. And I was full of this rage as he spoke. It was so unfair. He hijacked the group and I wasn’t having it.  I don’t think I handled it well. I wish I could say I did. And all the group members rallied to his cause. I was the brand new unknown. Now of course I’m feeling like everything I’ve tried in my entire life has lead to self-alienation.

Jesus I’m angry.

And so fucking sad.

This well spring of sadness. It just doesn’t ever stop. 

I’m so lonely. So lonely.

No one calls me. I have a few friends who I text with. Yet we’re all suffering out here. We’re all drowning in dread and despair.

It’s all so very hard

Long time all at sea

 Not sure what title means but popped into my head. I’m 60 now. Unbelievable. Despair stalks me daily. It’s certainly persistent, the fucker.

Coming back to these pages after taking a couple writing classes, which I enjoyed. I know writing helps me and I met people who don’t appear to be living with depression which is an increasingly shocking idea for me to entertain. I just cannot imagine it.

Grief permeates me. And urine apparently. About 4 years ago I had a partial hysterectomy (still got them ovaries, yippee???) . Since then I’m a pee machine. Is it possible to pee my grief? As I’m so numb these days and rarely cry, is my body deciding to take things into its own hands ( laughs at self/ pun of sorts)? Is it helping me release grief by peeing. Sometimes 12x a night. That’s my personal record anyways.

So much grief. Losing my wee baby Nova, she was only 14 weeks. Never had a chance. If I was in the states I could be charged with murder, manslaughter, etc, such is the current states of their fucked up politic. 

I lost Nova as February 12 passed into the 13th in 2007. Or the 11th into the 12th? See my memory is really hole-y now too.

So much loss. And grieving things I never had. How can I lose what I never had?

Finished a ketamine assisted therapy program a month ago. The ketamine infusion part I think was helpful the group zoom therapy not so much. I lose any grounding in groups. Always so in tuned to others and their feelings and energy. So out of tune with me and my own.

My dog is 13. He’s in pain a lot.

My husband is 67. I’m pretty sure we’re negotiating a trauma bond and mostly do okay.

My parents are still alive. It’s tough for the both in so many awful ways.

That’s enough for now. Thanks for listening.

Encased in Wax

 I’m back after a long hiatus and a new pandemic. Blogging in the time of COVID 19. Struggling comme d’habitude. Some new ways, mostly familiar. It’s a week to the 14th anniversary ( must come up with new word for this annual observance that sounds a lot less celebratory) of my miscarriage. Complicated grief. At the time I wasn’t sure if I even wanted a child. Mostly I felt terror. Then the Effexor I was taking at the time made my decision for me, the baby stopped developing. The doctors assured me my body would naturally miscarry but I had some fear that she would stay with me and turn to stone, so I asked to have the miscarriage induced. So guilt, sadness, feeling like I do t have the right to grieve because I asked for the drug yet she was already gone, little Nova. So I grieve. Hearing other people talk about their children always stings. Perhaps it always will.

Depression and PTSD still stalk me. I’ve been experimenting over the last few years with different legal and illegal interventions. LSD, psilocybin (macro and microdosing) THC in oil then edible. The microdosing has been most effective at allowing me some intense emotional release but I have no current source.

I feel seriously stuck, encased in wax. The microdosing seems to be the only way of reaching me. More and more I’m convinced I was a toddler, perhaps even an infant, when I was first traumatized. There’s been so many more direct and indirect trauma since then. Fuck.

Lonely

World mental health day.

Suffering everywhere and inside. So much so I am overwhelmed and frozen.

Today is now several days later and I feel horrible. I’m microdosing and I do t feel any better, what I do feel is fucked. I know I’m tired right now and that’s frequently a contributor to low mood. I’m so tired of this life I live. Feeling worthless, disconnected, sad, so sad,

Do others feel this bad too? Are we all living this nightmare or is it possible to be happy, to feel some peace.

I feel so lonely.

an ongoing waste of air, water and space

Long time no blog.

Too much interior fuckery. Self-fulfilling prophecies. I don't do anything, I feel inadequate, I don't do anything.

My own brain is just not wanting me around. All it wants to do is keep sending me evidence of my badness.

I'm not interested in much. I feel like I'm pretending to be human. But I don't know the rules. I am lost in fog of my own design.

What an ongoing waste of Air and water and space.im just wrong.

i don't feel loved

Still here. Not enough energy to leave.
Learning more and more about how little I know: about me, about everything.

I don't feel loved. Complicating this: I wouldn't recognize it if I was loved. Also, I don't feel loveable anyway.

I feel alone and lonely, I feel too far gone. How can I learn to love myself when I have no experience of feeling love or loved?  It's a deep hole I've dug. A series of caves and passages and chambers. I'm deeply hidden. Deeply damaged.

I cannot even imagine what feeling healthy - aka depression and ptsd-free - would feel like.

Good night.

Depression is killing me

Feeling so beyond-saving toxic. I'm my own chemical spill. Nothingness envelopes.

Frightening really, if I could feel anything so intense. Numbness or crying, that's my likert scale. Therapist helping me release, yet I wonder if I just keep stockpiling toxic feelings. The respite I have is numbness.

I'm so tired. So despairing of ever feeling better. I'm not sure if I even want to feel better anymore because of the hope  of it's possibility implied. Hope can be cruel when  nothing changes. I feel so weak, so unable to help myself. This toxic self loathing permeates every cell.

Poison.

Where to go, what to do. Do I just give up and slowly erode into the earth? I kinda have given up in many ways. What remains?

There is band and choir.going out takes so much. Nothing feels easy or manageable, always fear-laden. I am bewildered to think that some people aren't depressed. It seems impossible to me. Can't imagine what feeling better would look like. Only maybe I would feel motivation. I would feel interest in things.

Everything feels hard. And I'm so tired. So tired.

more of the same

Thinking a lot about how I can learn to love myself. How can I make some changes so that I feel better. I realize I am mainly motivated by a desire to feel worth loving. Everything. If I get attention it lights a spark in me and I want to continue to receive the attention, and the n if it's unrealistic, not good, etc. I have this fantasy, this longing, to feel, to be, famous. And really, underneath that I just want to be loved. All my life wanting to feel cool, to be cool, to not be one of the mainstream to be special, worth noticing, worth loving. So strong this drive that I chose hurtful attention, cause some attention was better than none.

I feel kind of pathetic, clinging to scraps, searching for scraps. Not too clear on self-respect. Feel a danger to myself and others. Worry I'll ultimately alienate anyone who dares care for me. I'll waste their caring, use it up. And be left with an agonizing self-fulfilling prophecy that I am toxic, hence th driving everyone away ting.

I wish I felt quieter inside. I am thankful I have a brain and many creature comforts, in many ways quite fortunate. However.

However.

Rotting suggests activity

Not well. discouraged, tired, sore. Nothing new to report. Same old shit. Feeling awful physically, emotionally, bored, yet unmotivated, everything feels overwhelming. I am full of sadness and aching and loneliness. People say I need to talk about what's happened in my life, I don't know where to begin. I have spoken about many things that haunt me, many times. Over and over again I revisit the pain, of betrayal, of shock,  of perpetual reception of the theme I am of wanted. I do not belong. I have not brought anything good into this world. I have not added to the good parts of this world. I have not raised children. I feel stagnant, rotting , although rotting does suggest activity.

I have thoughts of disasters and death, accidents.

Doing nothing. No art. No humour, no joy, nothing that humans find replenishing, just a foul, poisonous mass, increasing in latency.

Fuck

tribute to Neil Young

trying medical marijuana again, so far a tiny buzz and frequent BMS, yeehaw.

Going to try acupuncture again.

No joy, just despair. Exhaustion of body and spirit. Although, let's do away with the dualisms, it's all one entity= me. Components of a person, all in disarray, so very lost, despair .  Broken record.

Keep thinking I need to add something new to these observations, yet there is nothing new, there remains the steady erosion of strength, every kind there is, dwindling, rusting, failing.  Hey hey, my my.

Are you having a bad day?

Just existing. Waiting, for what? Brutal. So very sad. Lifeless. Waiting for mm. New prescription. We'll see. Are there people who feel good out there?  naturally I mean. Cause I can't imagine it. I can't remember feeling well. There must have been times when I did.

The morning I was writing a letter, or at least trying, to my siblings. Somehow to account for my absence from their lives. But. They have lives. I cannot believe I matter to them, I suppose so, academically. I cannot imagine someone loving me because I feel,  Profoundly,unloveable. Really do. Crying, aching, searching. So tired. So very tired. Sleep somewhat improved but not rested. I imagine many many millions of people are sleep deprived. How do I speak my truth without sounding weak? Whining? It must be exhausting for the people around me. I keep people away, who wants to Hear my truth?

Are you having a bad day?

Yes, everyday.

A good day seems so improbable. I ruminate , obsess, negatively. Is it a choice? Have I made it such a habit that I have convinced myself there is no other possibility? Apparently. This fucking sucks. It sucks. It's really fucking hard . I hate myself. Profoundly. Hate. Not too fine a point. I hate me. I cannot see anyway around this, so through it I go.

birth as rejection

We are birthed as paradox. Rejection as life. So it has been seared into me. As I write I judge myself so fiercely. Everyone reminds me of how hard other people have it, how strong other people are. Is this meant to help me? It doesn't . It shuts me down.

So much rejection, small wonder I reject myself. If one is told enough times that one is wrong, fundamentally as in, then one believes they are wrong. And so it is. And so I am.

I cannot forget grade 7 and the petition to have me removed from the basketball team (yes, I am still thinking,feeling talking about this, fuck off) the shock of it. I was no longer safe. I could trust no one. I think there were things before, entrenching me.

And people in my life, a year ago, told me how much trouble I cause them. Like sharks they circled and struck. Left me bleeding out, apparently unaware of the damage they inflicted. And now some want to help.

No thank you.

The benign cruelty is worse than the overt. I'm not the first to think this. Not the first hurt, for sure. Nor sadly will I be the last. Can I help myself back to who I was/am meant to be?

Is it whining to speak my truth? Apparently for some.

Since I can find no one to be present and listen, can I do it for myself?  I guess that's what this blog is.  L.M. Seems genuinely interested in helping me. So the gift I can give myself is to talk with L.M. More often.

have I ever been alive?

I'm beginning to understand what it means to be a prisoner of my own mind, at least for me. I'm so very lost. Think of death daily, frightened, want help but no idea what help looks like. Mostly I just want to talk and talk and talk and empty everything out. No drugs right now, weird pain and aching joints, quasi-manageable with Advil but oh so odd. Showed up when i weaned off clonazepam. So a lengthy withdrawal? Did some blood work, first go around showed.  Slightly elevated marker(s) for inflammation, my GP looking into fibro, rheumatoid arthritis, asked about bruising (leukaemia) but maybe my body is just brimming with untold stories. I want to talk but no one seems to want to listen, don't blame them, not exactly scintillating stories. Just how many times a heart can be broken. That Sherlock movie where the woman completed suicide because she had no place to put her love, and that was grief. I relate to this, I have love to give or did, now it feels rancid, poisonous. I have no interest in anything, early laugh, no motivation, f to l fear, not. Sl is ping much or well. Saw the ECT psychiatrist this past week, at first was interested but then I though him glib, then read stories of ECT and brain damage. Argh.
Fired the 1st acupuncturist, so many levels of unprofessional. Hurt me several times.
Am I beyond help? Hope is trying to leave, although at times it feels it has left. I'm fading. It's so weird yet familiar and I'm feeling angry and despair and desperate, I want me back but was I ever here?

meme chose

 Lost interest in many things what's left? Sleep is bad , tired. Mind active, bored, anxiety when I think about doing something. Pushing myself to walk. Feeling so lonely yet don't want to be with anyone.this hurts. Zombie. Only spending time wasting time. Online a lot, obsessing over GOT. No purpose. Vulnerable, sick, scared.

tears

 Having a sad day just back from a walk that's about all I've been able to achieve today although I did shower feels like a big deal I got out of bed but woke up so disappointed to wake up every morning I wake up and wish I hadn't I want to stay in this dream state street and send it that's so stupid the only place I could get some rest though I'm not rested when I wake up I don't know what you're going through is this perpetual abyss this perpetual prison of my brain it's good that the tears come once again I am wondering when they'll ever stop if there'll ever stop if there'll ever be an end to die for sure will be all over I'm only 53 that's all

Time to grow up

Challenging time, gotta speak in code. So hurt, betrayed yet also questioning: am I fundamentally unfair? Is my judgmental nature such that no one stands a chance, least of all myself? Confusing. Mainly likely due to having no boundaries, or extremely rigid ones, no trust, no faith in myself or others. The loneliness is the worst. Who do I talk to? Some ideas, starting with some new resources. Don't want to call family, feels unfair. Really scared. Time for me to grow up. Learn to look after myself.

trying Ritalin not impressed

And now into my fourth week trying Ritalin on half dose it doesn't seem to do anything on Fulldose I guess this squirrelly high that has me speaking extremely fast and then crashing big. So that's unappealing. Fuck.

Next I guess I'll try cbds, since thc just left me paranoid and anxious.
Woke up feeling so low today , don't know why I'm still here. Well, yes I knows why but this suffocating. Cloying viscous depression is so heavy, I'm so deflated.

So nothing seems to be helping. What the hell is wrong with my brain? Why doesn't it work right?

Shitty.

Depression is in charge

Woke up wishing I didn't wake up. This is how my days start. I don't ask for it, I seek different thoughts, I seek gratitude. All I want is to feel better, and also to die because this endless this endless pain wants relief. There is no relief it seems.
Trying medical marijuana, can't tell if it helps. Maybe I have some really rare brain dysfunction. People who laugh, who appear to experience joy are a curiousity to me now. I wonder where my laughter went.
I used to have a sense of humour. Now I have loneliness, self-isolation, despair.
People are kind yet everyone has their limits. I want to feel better. That's it.
No one can help. People say hang in there, or it gets better. Yet it hasn't. It has only gotten worse. No one can tell me I will feel better one day, no one knows and people have their own lives to live. They must , as must I, consider themselves first.
I don't love myself, I am certain of my innate bad-ness. I feel incapable of love. Happiness is an alien notion.
I know I can be kind, it feels authentic yet at the end  -and the beginning as it turns out - of every day I remain convinced of my worthlessness. Dying makes more and more sense, everyday. My concern is how to die without hurting anyone, because people say they love me. I counter with a thought "it doesn't matter" people's assertions of love fall away from me, incur guilt, often resentment. I'm staying alive so you don't have to feel sad. Yet I know their grief will pass and they will move on with their lives because that's what people do. They move on.
It seems I have to believe in myself to make it. And I don't. I never have.

disheartening, mysterious, bewildering

Grieving all the time it seems. Memories, circumstances pop into my head and strike my heart. it's a piercing. Deep, lightning quick, hotter than the sun. Sends me reeling, it must be curious to watch me walk as I bob and weave depression's varied onslaught.

I know it's hard to hear what I say, how desperate and alone I feel. And people, we 're all natural helpers, they want to help and when it seems there's nothing that can be done, a sort of compassion panic sets in. But I just want to talk, no one, it is quite clear now, can help me. I have to choose.I have to find a way through all of this feeling. It's so confusing and startling, so much intense grief. I want to know why, I yearn to know but I'll never know. So it's disheartening, mysterious, bewildering. There is little relief in the shitty sleep I do get.

Curious word bewilderment: a state of being. Wildness? Or my natural state? Same thing I think. Maybe I've been denying who I really am and depression is screaming at me, picking at me, gnawing at me, striking me, to wake up before it's too late. Maybe it's ramping up its' efforts to get my attention because there is a message I'm just not getting. Except I am getting a message, one that tells me most assuredly how bad I am. I am a fundamentally flawed, broken, a second.

I think of cutting, imagine who might be at my funeral, wondering where to place my remains. No hole in the ground, although a cave might work. Spread into a garden I think.

I wish I felt worth something. Wish I felt I deserved this life.