Subscribe to RSSArchive for the ‘Depression’ Category:
I Feel Different
I feel so self conscious and very needy right now. This isn’t the normal me. I don’t cling or need validation at every turn, not usually anyway. Right now I’m worried that this and that person will be angry with me or I’ll do something foolish and push people away. I feel lonely and basically not like myself. All the self loathing has me physically exhausted. Well why wouldn’t they go away you stupid….blah, blah, blah. Shut up please!!! I’ve even been begging in my dreams. I don’t beg or plead but recently it feels like my heart only does those two things followed by deep, deep sorrow.
Today a friend called to moan about no longer having a maid to clean her apartment. She said she had to clean the apartment all by herself and make her own dinner. I thought to myself, please call me when you have a real problem. But I said nothing. I just listened UNTIL she said, “I wish I had someone like Maureen that I could pop out and have clean my house.” Oh no you didn’t. You didn’t go there. You wish you had been so damaged by abuse you split off into parts that function separately? And please don’t go, Oh that’s not what that means. It just means I wish I had extra help. Well, it’s not extra help just by itself. It’s extra help with issues. So just don’t go there. Besides, why bring up Maureen, who has been MIA for months just cause you had to fire your maid? Gracious!!! Too sensitive of a topic to just toss out her name cause that bitch is too damn lazy to cook or clean for herself. You don’t work. You don’t do anything at all and you have a maid? Girl stop, please, cause I can’t take it.
Where Is My Voice?
At Wal-mart the other day I was paying for my items when a woman said to me, “I know you from somewhere.” I looked confused and said I wasn’t sure where from. She asked me my name. I gave her a name. She kept looking at me with this “I know you” look. I asked her name, playing along like I had no clue she’s a friend of my mother’s. I walked away having pulled off the best acting job I’ve ever done.
A different time at Wal-mart I figured I’d save some time and cash a check there instead of making a run to my bank. I figured I was already there so why not cash the check. I gave my ID and the man said there was a problem with me cashing the check. He asked me if I’d ever changed my name. He asked me what that name use to be. I said it didn’t matter what that name was because it no longer exists. I had proper ID, my SS# matches and that’s all the questions I was going to answer. That’s the first time since changing my name that anyone has ever asked me that. Of all places Wal-mart wanted to know if there was another me out there. I should have just gone to the bank. It was a friggin $50 check and not worth the hassle. I’ve banked with the same company, used the same phone company and everything else I had before I changed my name. They all got the paper work and there were no problems. Years later Wal-mart wants to know what that name use to be. Give me a break!
Mismatch Thoughts
I wish Barney hadn’t left a dowel rod on the kitchen counter for a week. I wish I’d said something about it a week ago. Why didn’t I ask him to move it?
I can’t give you another chance. I won’t give you another chance.
I have the money to go buy those red converse but I just can’t bring myself to go get them.
I liked giving you that gift but I didn’t do it out of kindness.
I won’t do too much panicking until the asshole moves in and gives me a specific reason to panic. I can’t believe he’s bringing his little dog. As anal as he is I’m sure he has a Shitzu.
The only colour in this house that’s bright is red.
When I go shopping if I don’t bring home something red I feel sad. It’s strange.
My house is girly. That’s not a complaint.
I don’t look my therapist in the eye when I talk to him.
I miss Maureen.
I’ve been jumpy lately.
You really know how to turn a small imposition into a catastrophe.
When I’m angry my language gets rough. I seem to curse like a sailor. It gets really bad. “Do you want a fuckin cookie? You want some motherfuckin’ milk with that shit?” It really gets bad, not quite that bad but bad enough. My language right now could use some soap.
When everything else seems out of control and unstable I grab onto whatever I feel I can control or keep stable. I just need one thing to stay the same and not change. I’ve eaten pizza daily for over two weeks now. This has to change because I’m lactose intolerant. I’m sure that sounds funny but I’m not happy about the change.
I’ve been painting pretty much non-stop for a few weeks now. There’s a large piece of paper on the door to the restroom, the door leading to Barney’s area as well as in the hallway. I also doodle and have 3 small paintings I’m working on. I need the feel and sound of brush against paper.
Joan
Mismatch Thoughts-Wednesday, May 14th, 2008-1:06AM EST
Closed Off
I don’t know what to say. I’ve been sitting over the keyboard with my head in my hands, looking down, rocking slightly. I just don’t know what to say. I’m closed off and pretty much shut down. It’s not often that I look at the screen and don’t know what to type. I just don’t have anything to say.
I was looking at paintings on Redbubble of flowers and thought about sending a few links to The Garden Lady. I thought to myself, I should send that girl in South Korea a note. I should write to this person and that person, tell this other girl I saw an old book she might like. I think about it but it never comes about. There was something about truckers striking over oil prices which made me wonder how my Florida friend is doing. I should write him an email. It just doesn’t get done. I look at the computer screen and nothing comes out. There’s only so long I can watch the little black vertical bar flicker before I get up and walk away. (I paused after that sentence and that stupid bar just sits there blinking impatiently.) I’m just closed off. I have nothing to say.
Austin
Somewhere In Here Is Me
Food does not make this better. Cigarettes don’t help, music touches and I don’t want to be touched. Painting helps little but I can’t focus enough to finish anything. All I want to do is go to sleep. I’m pissed, just majorly pissed and I can’t even bring myself to cry.
There is a joyful me, one who was thrilled to death about having a fantastic sales week, 56 pieces in all. I wonder how she keeps herself separated from the rest of us who care about that but are overshadowed by anguish. It’s not that I don’t care. I like the fact that people want our art in their home. It’s just that right now I am pissed and tired and frustrated and running around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for soul food, something to cut the pain. It’s just not happening though. Nothing helps.
I feel lost right now and I need to find my way back.
Fear - Therapy Discussion
I’m feeling kind of closed off, isolating a bit I’d say. The last two week watching friends struggle has been difficult but then there’s my stuff too. I don’t know, I feel like I want to shut the PC off and just go to bed.
In therapy Dr. D and I again discussed the picture I drew of myself as a little girl showing what I might have felt like had I been afraid. We talked about how I don’t really remember being afraid. Now that I think about it I can remember 3 specific incidents where I was afraid but mostly I remember being angry, feeling like a deformed misfit in that family. I remember a lot of pain but I don’t remember feeling a lot of fear. I felt sad, alone, hopeless but afraid isn’t something that comes to mind when I think of my childhood and early adulthood. Perhaps I was too busy thinking instead of feeling, planning to stay one step ahead of her instead of feeling. Well, I felt but I guess fear didn’t show up too often. I felt ashamed to be me. I felt disappointed in myself for not being able to please my mother. I felt ashamed of being what I felt was a disobedient and wild daughter. But fear? I don’t know, not that often I don’t think, not that I recognized anyway.
I Feel
Angry Alone
Invisible Insignificant
Abandoned Foolish
Fake Afraid
Agitated Worried
Regret Shame
Rejected Mournful
Addicted Plagued
Evil Wicked
Sick Worthless
Crazy Broken
Disgusted Lost
That’s The Plan
I’m in one of these “damn you why do you have to be a multiple?” spots. How come you can’t just remember what you’ve done? Then I’m like, okay, don’t panic, you’re fine, you’re just kinda on the weakened side right now you’re fine. Then the tears come and I’m like, shit okay, just pull yourself together, you’re fine. But I’m not fine. There’s too much shit to do. My house if a fucking mess so much so that I don’t want to do anything at all but sit in the office which at the time happens to be cleaner than the rest of the house. I have to figure out something to eat but I also have to clean. I need to prioritize.
Frazzled and Frayed
Friday afternoon I moved a small China cabinet and an entertainment center from two doors down inside my fence. I then dragged both up the stairs with a tad bit of help from Barney. He’s too frail to really be of assistance but he did try. So I got them up the stairs and into the house. We then got in the car and hit three stores. I came home and moved my large hutch from the living room to the office then moved the two pieces of furniture into my living room. After that I was pretty tired so I didn’t do any cleaning up. I had to move a few things around to get the two new pieces in but I figured I’d do a better clean up job the next day. It didn’t happen. I slept most of Friday, just hung out in bed and smelled the rain through the cracked window. It was nice. Since it was Morton that moved all that furniture around the rest of us don’t feel any pain from it. It’s funny though because if the kids get on the floor and mess around we all feel the affects of it but you let Morton move big furniture from one house down alone then have little help getting it up three stairs then alone move it to the back of the house and place it…it would seem we would have a bit of soar muscles but we don’t. We never do when he does stuff like that.
Grief and Abuse
Last night in bed we pictured ourselves picking up the phone to talk to our sister. In the ??? fantasy she called us by our birth name. We corrected her, she scoffed. She turned to yell to the mother that it was me on the phone. She called me by my chosen name. My mother said “Who?” She then called me by my birth name.
I didn’t have to think too hard about how the conversation would go because it’s happened before. I’ve called out of the blue, the sister answers, there’s a correction, a scoff then the mother is on the phone. There’s a bit of “Oh I’ve been thinking about you. How are you?” but never a question as to “Why are you calling me at midnight?” or “Why are you calling after all these years?” We do as we have always done, talk like nothing is wrong. I turned over and went to sleep. There’s no need to call. The same voices, the same reactions, the same disappointment and emptiness is on the end of that line. I believe I had the thought because of talking so much about the sister in therapy.
