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