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Wednesday, June 21, 2017

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.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

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.

Monday, May 1, 2017

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.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

I'm 53 but might as well be 4.

Many memories surfacing, like puzzle pieces. 50 year old instances where I felt unwanted, unneeded, unloved. Preyed upon, ignored, wanting just some attention. Yes, absolutely, wanting attention, wanting to know I mattered, wanting a little reassurance that I was included, loved. But how can that happen where everyone's in chaos? No one's to blame when everyone's trying desperately to survive. And many more times in later life, I kept getting the message, over and over. That I was not wanted, that I had cheated, that I was unfairly chosen. So much of folk's unatttended pain slicing at me. Tearing pieces out of me in their misdirected anguish. A target so young, for so long. It's no wonder I want to die. No wonder I feel so unworthy of this life. No wonder I hurt so much. Every child should have attention, we are meant to thrive not waste away emotionally for closing on 6 decades. Searing. The hurt feels so old I can't trace its origin, it precedes my verbal ability. But that doesn't matter. What matters is it's real. It may not be like anyone else's experience. How could it be? I think too much for the other. I cultivate empathy and it is at root a survival strategy. If I can read another person I can plan and protect, myself, possibly others.yet I'm told I bully as well. Probably true. I don't appear to have much self awareness, I think I talk a good game but truly I'm on the edge ready to attack or take myself out. Extremes only, no in between. In between gets you hurt. Or so it seems. I'm tired of all this shit. Wishing I didn't feel so little and vulnerable and young.I'm 53 but might as well be 4. I'm so very late to the dance.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

THC and Hildegard

Drinking my first  THC infused honey tea. I am probably imagining things but I can taste it. Here goeth nothing, as I am certain Hildegard of Bundgen was wont to pronounce on occasion.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Such a waste.

So the MAOI effort was a bust.  I'm weaned off. Just clonazepam for sleep. Spent all day numb  but after dog walk feelings surfacing, as they do.  This flat nothing is awful. Like I'm a piece of wood. Don't feel human, and yet a part of me registers this as strange so I am not operating at normal capacity. It turns out it's likely no one has an effing clue why depression and PTSD are. I mean they can be described, pretty accurately but the mechanism and, crucially, WHY seems to have eluded us all. The research on medication efficacy is apparently sketchy, thank you for that you money grabbing fuckers for the past varied 16 years.

Nope, still numb.

I have been thinking about cutting more. Haven't. Still pick and pull off strips of skin though (currently my feet are healed). So what's the difference?

Such a waste.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Paranoia Never Sleeps

Paranoia is relentless and cruel. And it's not encouraging. I've been obsessing over what might be happening and on a day I really needed to reach out and talk, the people I did reach weren't really available, had to go, etc before I asked for what I needed, which was just to talk. This reminds me of my working days. Paranoia woke me up at 3, just like old times. All I can imagine is I've screwed up, that I've alienated those I was trying to help, that no one wants to hear from me. I feel too intense, I feel stupid, useless, annoying, I feel a failure. I'm full of big feelings but haven't let them out. A little on my walk on the beach with Sman yesterday, but it's quasi public plus, more importantly, I needed to stay illusory-strong for Strider. He was such a good boy for me. The ache of loneliness is such I wonder how I bear it. I want so much to feel connected, to be part of something, but it seems my fear just makes me choose to unhinge it. My fear of connection is stronger than my longing. Fuck. Can I not just feel good once in a awhile? It seems any hint of good feeling gets crushed, my spirit if it dares to reveal itself however briefly, gets grounded into my self. I'm so alone. I have little strength to battle back against my own harsh thoughts.what a foe I would be on a battlefield, except the only enemy is me.