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.

found what i thought I'd lost

Haven't known what to do with myself all day. not sleeping but mostly I think it's my poor diet. Sugar, gluten, don't know. Denial of me having any other contributing factors i suppose. stayed off commenting or sharing or liking anything on FB today because a friend said she wouldn't be on FB out of respect for the day. One day is so paltry. platitudes. when reality is changed policies, downgraded or erased supports and escalating suicide rates. Was just watching a show about a u.s. crisis line, remembering wishing I was capable of doing this work still, feeling robbed feeling heartbroken for all the broken hearts and minds and souls out there, dying painfully with each though.SO many veterans of wars are suffering, needlessly and there is so very little I can do about it. I feel a fraud. I read all the kind and I believe sincerely loving comments and shares on FB by friends and family about me and other people they know who have served, Family members lost. I feel a fraud.  Theoretically I am a veteran but there are such scales of difference such breadth of unrelenting suffering that so many young and old experienced. I only heard the slightest bit of the stories out there. I cannot count myself on a par with these grieved souls. And I don't know why I think I have to be the same because there is no same, there is only anguish, degrees of, depths of severity, longevity of. Lately I've been doing pretty well. But not this day. The one day a year the country stops in its 5 and one half time zones to be still, seems so fucking paltry. I feel paltry really.I will never feel worthy of this gift of life, the pension I receive when so many others live on the streets. Do I give it all up? Is that the answer? Part of me says , dares me: yes. But then so then what I receive goes on to help probably at least 4 others very well and 8 others somewhat and then I am gone and maybe then will I feel worthy of this life, is that is what is being asked of me? To achieve the love I do not feel and have not ever felt worthy of, must I erase myself? Making art is good, is good for me, but seems so nothing  does it help? does it help  to make something out of an everyday object to transform it into something eyecatching? My artist statement asserts that this sublimation (word??) gives a message of hope in unexpected places. I just don't know.I don't know anything. I don't care enough about myself yet I care too much. And by the way I don't think paradox is as accurate a concept as I once thought. I think it is a paradox  is a paradox ad nauseum.
Glad to at least rediscover this forum, where I can hide, I can till be found, but not so [publicly. Sometimes I feel brave to speak my truth and spout things on FB but I am raw today, I am uncertain today. I am waiting for midnight so this illusion of time lets me out of November 11th. It is a;l illusion.assigning descriptors to experiences to try and make sense try and create order out of this chaos of chaos who are we trying to fool.
Sound and fury signifying nothing, fine William.

I hate Remembrance Day

well I guess at least I was able to vent. FUCK

I just lost about 500 wds of straight stream of consciousness writing and entire fucking post.

very frustrating

i hate remembrance day. I've been unhinged all day. Lost adrift, no sleep, waiting for the day to be over. 

staying away from FB and the platitudes.

Despise people in government, despair for the state of the world

so many homeless veterans, so many in poverty giving up, making the decision to take their own power back in the only way they have left.

all the words are spewed out

I guess the purpose served.