Enough

I've started posting my personal whatnot somewhere else, where I can pour it all out and not censor it for my family (who I know can see this, I just sort of stopped caring). Not that I've been censoring much, but I still have things I need to get out in writing or I will burst. Hopefully I will start posting here again soon, when my head is free of ghosts.

Bad.

Same SHIT, same SHIT, same SHIT. I feel like nothing, I can't control my irritated reactions to everything going on around me. I don't want to do this anymore. I am fine and then I'm suddenly really not fucking fine. If I was alone, I could cry. I can't cry around anyone. I cried on my drive home from work. I cried in the bathroom. It's all I feel like doing. I just want to let myself feel something, but when I get the chance, it's always shit. I'm terrible to everyone around me. It's pure hell trying so hard to keep this under control around my kids when I want to scream and cry and I don't even know, I just can't handle living like this. I'm waiting on my boyfriend to run out and get some whiskey so I can just quiet my brain and relax. I can't fucking do this, I just want to hide. I don't want to talk to someone who is just going to wonder when in the hell I'm going to stop talking and crying and making them uncomfortable. Or someone who will tell me I just need to get out more and get more exercise. Fuck that. FUCK. THAT. I need realness, and there is almost none of that left in my world. Everything is just superficial bullshit and complaining and shouting. My soul is a train wreck. What the fuck am I even talking about. My head is so full of nonsense right now. Merry Fucking Christmas.

A Tuesday

"Give me one more medicated peaceful moment...I don't want to feel this overwhelming hostility..."

Today was almost beautiful. I woke up during an amazing dream, the kind that leaves you feeling just nice all morning and, if you're lucky, that feeling bleeds into the afternoon and evening. I had a quiet empty house and so I read. I felt optimistic. Or, what's the word... transcendent? I don't know if that's quite right. To put it plainly, I felt GOOD.

I've been eating better (and less, as my appetite has been mostly gone for the past month or so), and when I weighed myself I was down five pounds. This meant something great to me. I was uplifted. I was happy with me.

I don't want this to be my Depression Blog. Really, I want to be interesting and fun like I seem to remember being. But this doesn't feel like me anymore. This goodness is always short lived lately, as it was today. It's like a switch in my brain that flips. Eventually I pass my image in the mirror and see someone else. Someone not as good. I don't live up to my own standards. I'm not talking about my outward appearance. I accept that I'm not physically perfect, no one is. That's nothing to me. I can see the change in my eyes, in the way I look back at myself. I lose my shine.

I'm angry with myself. I don't want to talk with anyone about this, I just want someone to understand, to just know. Stop so much with the well meaning advice. I'm angry that everyone else is living their meaningful lives and I can't find the meaning in mine anymore. The uglier and stupider I feel, the more brilliant and beautiful everyone else seems. The gap between myself and the rest of the world keeps widening and there's nothing I can do.

That's all. My highs are more exhilarating and my lows are ever deepening. I'm going to write something of meaning here soon. I swear. Until then...I'm so sorry.

Optimism on my night alone.

I need to find me. Somewhere along the line, in the last ten years or more, I've lost almost everything I used to be, everything I liked about myself. I suppose this happens to people as they grow older, take on adult responsibilities. I'm a mom, I have to be mommish. Pshhh. Whatever.

I don't know if these problems I have with depression would have overtaken me no matter what, or if they appeared due to life changes (divorce, having kids, moving away from every friend I had, moving again, and again, and again). But I want to think about something other than the workings of my brain. I am going to see a doctor sometime after Christmas and hopefully I can be properly medicated. I want to move on from this shit, I'm tired of it. I want to live, have adventures, be me again. I don't want to be forced to take on a role that I hate, or allow others to make me into someone that I don't want to be. Fuck it. I will do what I want.

First thing: make more time to be alone, while losing all this fucking weight. I will start jogging or some shit, I don't know. I will be Me Independent. In touch with my own mind while not being distracted by others. I don't need anyone else around for me to feel like me. I need the opposite. I need freedom and to do things for myself without feeling guilty. The freedom of not having to stick around listening to people being miserable assholes. To not allow myself to feel guilty for my feelings. I can't let that shit get to me, I have my own whatnot to work on.

I think I may have just made a New Year's resolution. Only I can't call it that, or I will fuck it up immediately.

Continuing story of Being Down

This shit. Ugh. I'm sick of this coldness. Indoors is no better than the icy drizzle outside. I can't write the things I want to. I can't feel the things I want to. I get moments of unbearably intense emotion, love, sadness, anger, whatever. But that never lasts long. My days are peppered with these short bursts of emotion (if I'm lucky) and the rest is just blank irritation. At work today, it was mostly an almost pleasant indifference. Once I'm home, it quickly turns to an anxious boredom. I need something I don't have. Usually I interpret that as hunger and eat. This explains my weight. I'm doomed.

People

As small as the world seems sometimes, dull and pointless as things tend to get, there's a thought I come back to when I feel hopeless. All these flat characters around me, they are more. They all hide a cosmos in their minds. They all have dark corners. There is always something interesting, something secret and usually defining. Sacred even. If I look at these people, boring and shallow on the surface, and remember that they must have a depth, that fullness of self that they reserve for different times, people, or even just themselves...when I remind myself of this, I feel a little more whole. Connected. The masses aren't the vacant blobs of flesh as they appear. They are shiny pinpricks of brilliance in disguise. They are real. I am real. I stop rolling my eyes at their acts and begin to wonder what's happening a few layers down.