Dear Depression,

I really am getting sick of your presence in my life. You offer no help or comfort in this pained world in which I find myself. Often you detract from what little joy I can scrape together. Colours aren't as bright. Smiles aren't as cheerful. You cause me to lie to people who care about me. "I'm fine" is the biggest of these lies.

Why are you even here? I know I didn't invite you, so what gives? Party crasher! What's worse is that I know I'll never be rid of you. I may be able to battle you into a corner for a time, but you just won't leave! Get the clue. I want  you gone, evicted from my life, from my brain. Every aspect of my life has been sullied by your existence. Between you and Self-Harm, my life seems to no longer be mine, if it ever was.

You are horrid! I rather hate you and wish you would just go away. You won't though, damned interloper! You're going to crowd my skull for the rest of my life.

-Me

Worthless

Any one that actually reads this is going to think I keeled over or something...


So the last few months haven't been bad, really. I've been busy with work and by the time I get in I'm so knackered its pointless to write anything. Went from a butt-crack o'dawn job off-loading trucks to working evenings cleaning other people's offices. The other night there was a pair of men's knickers in a waste bin. I really DO NOT want to know the story behind that, seriously.

I went a grand total of 80 days without harming, so there was a plus. I can't remember what triggered me to break the streak but it did and here we are. As of today its been 2 weeks since my last injury.

I'm feeling ignored, worthless. I figured out why its so hard for me to believe that Doc cares a plug nickle for me. I don't feel I deserve it. I haven't earned it, not really. I care for the people that I do because I feel they deserve the love and protection that I give them freely. I don't feel that I'm worth it. I suppose that's why It always confuses me when people worry about me.

Its funny, tell a person who feels like this that they have value... and they won't believe you.

Kicked to the Curb?

Ignored. Brushed aside. Fading.

I went to the chatroom and said I was feeling confused, edgy, and self destructive... no one said anything or offered anything. My friends all seem too busy for me. I ask them for help in simple things and seems I've become a burden. What's the point of making friends? Why do I put myself through this?

TG is great, but busy and our schedules rarely mesh well. Katie is flighty and always seems to have other plans or "is too tired". That last part pisses me off. Tired? TIRED?! Don't give me tired! I don't sleep more than 5 hours, I have a job that requires my being awake and functioning by 5am, nightmares.

Hell, lets add the fact I'm currently feeling like crap and know that sleep won't come for a while. I really wish I could think past the self destructive part. Maybe I should have a chat with Katie...

Screw it, I'm tired!

Long Day and Update

Its been a long day, busy with friends all day then went to work out with another friend. Wasn't bad, went for a long walk around their rather hilly neighbourhood. For being a chubby chick, I'm rather proud that I beat them up every hill and wasn't winded.

Its been a long several months and I've not posted much about whats been going on.

I was put on effexor for depression, migraines, and anxiety. That was a flaming disaster. I got all the weird side effects. I was shaking like none other, didn't sleep for two days... Then stopped taking it all together. My gp has me on sprintex, a birth control, instead with the hopes that this will even out my hormones and maybe calm the panic attacks, that's the ultimate goal. As of right now, my hormones are still trying to settle so I'm waiting it out. Might take a few months...

I'm still not sleeping well, but that's almost normal these days. Nights... whatever. I'm really on edge, urgy too. I seriously want to injure and know that I shouldn't as well as having no real reason to. That's a real problem for me, to want to injure without having a real cause. Its a bit scary, a lot frustrating. 

Breakfast At Tiffany's

I've never seen it before. Katie loves the movie and when we first met, she said we had to see it together. Tonight it was showing at the cinema and I thought it would be nice to see it on the big screen with Katie and her sister, Tiffany. They both love the film and made no argument to see it on the Silver Screen.

Mum told me that it was boring, that I wouldn't like it. I reminded her of my love of silent films and The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965 Rex Harrison, Charlton Heston). She shrugged it off, and now thinks I'm insane for liking Breakfast at Tiffany's. I want to read the book now, by Trueman Capote.

It was nice to see a movie with a small group instead of the large bands that usually accompany TG and her family. I prefer the smaller groups to the larger tribes.

This evening, while waiting for my two partners in crime to join me, I was going to sit at the bistro seats in the lobby. None of them were in a place where I didn't feel exposed so I opted to go ahead into the theater and wait there, reading until they arrived.

All in all it was a rare nice evening. Katie texted just after I got to my car asking if her Alk was all right and safe. "Her" Alk. Its odd, I don't think I remember anyone claiming me as their own before. Its an odd feeling, but not one that makes me feel uncomfortable. Really, it makes me feel cared about.

I Miss The Boy

Today, Doc wanted to talk about my little brother. I don't talk about him much, I don't really think about him either. I've not seen my little brother in about three years, haven't spoken to him for a bit longer. All we ever do is argue, though we've been known to get into fist fights.

I miss the boy he was. I'm not terribly fond of the man that he's become.When he's on his meds, he's not really too bad. Brutus has bipolar disorder and he can go rapid cycle so its hard to keep up with him and damned exhausting.

Now I'm on edge from thinking about him all day. He's not a nice person, or he wasn't. Not sure the type of person he's become now. I'm tired... old, well I feel old. Only 30 and I feel much older. My life has been one gigantic screw up and I get hit with the worst of it.

This is a short post because I want to get thoughts out of my head and then hit the sack. Maybe read for a little bit as the tv drones on about the universe.

What came first?

How did this start? How did this tail spin begin? I started thinking this morning, wondering what came first, the depression or the anxiety? I always seem to remember being rather vigilant, watching everything and everyone. To me that's normal to watch and be aware. Now I have a chicken and egg thing, which came first?

I can say that I remember being and feeling depressed starting about age 12. Many things happened that year. New school with constant abuse, my trailer was demolished by a dump truck and my mother was thrown and hit a tree. We didn't have much money, never did... there was nothing but stress and sadness. I seem to have carried it all my life. I think the anxiety came from those events over the course of that year, and the things that happened after. Must have triggered the anxiety, PTSD, whatever... They say that PTSD can appear sometimes years later. Guess what?

I have an appointment with my GP in a week that I plan to use to see if I can have my meds changed, the last one didn't help for squat. I need to get my condition under control before the conventions this summer, before I go to New York. I want my life back and if medication with talk therapy is the way to do it, then so be it.

Sucky Saturday-- an email to my therapist

Hey, Doc.

Its 8.20p on Saturday, and it has been one hell of a day... I'm still not stable, though my hands have stopped shaking. Do I start at the beginning or the most interesting?

Woke at about 1am to a strange dream then couldn't get back to sleep. Alarm went off at 5a and I scrambled to get ready for early morning service, only to remember that on Saturday's it starts at 7a, not 6a. Next I had a woman who sucks at planning make the reception after a memorial way more complicated for me than it needed to be. The reception was a blast... guess who had a panic attack? Yep! This girl. OH!! And guess who's meds aren't strong enough? Yep, me again. You're so good at this game, Doc.

But wait there's more! There was a second gathering this evening. I went from a panic attack that lasted,  in varying degrees, about an hour and a half. I had enough time to go home, shower, make coffee, then leave for the next one. I couldn't eat anything beyond a small piece of chicken and a small salad.

Right now I am fighting the overwhelming urge to scream. This day has exhausted the hell out of me. And I get to start it over again tomorrow? Tired, edgy, and a headache from crying all day. I hate these damned attacks. I WANT MY LIFE BACK! I want it back...

I tried breathing, over thinking items (that actually helped some). I now know that the grip on my Bubba mug has ten dots down and 14 around.

Is this what the rest of my life is going to be? Am I going to have to remember all this forever, all these little tricks? I don't want to live this way, this isn't living... its just converting oxygen and nitrogen into carbon dioxide. I scheduled an extra appt this week. I know I need it, though I hope you don't mind.

See you Tuesday...

Three in Three

So the last post was from October, it was the day after a little boy's death. So much has happened since then.

In November, two of my friends were in hospital for various reasons. One had a quadruple bypass and is fairing much better. The other sadly died on the 22nd. She was loved and young! Only about 45-50. I stayed with her two grown children for the first week, mostly to keep the house up and make sure they ate and slept. It was a trying month, November.

December wasn't much better. An elderly man in my congregation was having complications from his chemo. After a long battle, he died on the 30th. He was about 60-70. I liked him, he was nice and sweet, funny. His wife is devastated. She kept telling him to not die first, that she didn't want to be a widow. In the end, his body couldn't push itself any further.

So there we have it. Three deaths in three months. All of whom were members of my congregation and we are a very close knit group. These last few months have been very hard on all of us. I'm not dealing well. I've become emotionally involved with them all and I never really meant for that to happen.

I remember when I felt nothing, I was numb. But of course I was also a damned zombie, not sleeping, barely eating, just going through the motions of life. Now I actually care, and seeing their pain rips me apart. I have nothing to say, no words can take the pain away. Nothing can make it better.

I'm not sure which is worse: Feeling nothing, or feeling too much.