Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Weirdly warm.

I don't know what happened or how whatever did happen happened, but I was pretty happy this Xmas season. Both my brother and I were. Even on the day.

What was that all about?

Still frustrated artists. Still sick and broke. Still struggling with the big D. Still isolated, distant and reclusive. But oddly OK with the season. More than OK.

Was actually able to feel and I felt happy, good,regular...whatever the straights call it when they aren't knee deep in plunging seratonin levels.

Hmm. I take serotonin. So it isn't the level. Maybe the efficiency? My mind is so twisty that I can outfox therapy. Can meds even be outfoxed? Maybe just overwhelmed. After all,  only so much chemistry can do with this psyche.

Anyway. 🎶Don't care.🎶

And that's the good, carefree "not caring",  not the depressive lexicon version. The blue euphemism for "it's too much. I need to give up."

Anyway. I feel like I'm slowly reawakening. Back in Feb 2013 after the surgery and scans and eesh of it all, I started imagining again. Laying in the hospital under the most suspect of tender, loving compassion, I made grand plans again.

Well, plans is an overstatement. I had ideas and ideas about the ideas. I hadn't been able to imagine since I started falling ill Xmas of 2011. I couldn't dream. Couldn't even hope.

But I'm starting to again. It took a few years after the 2013 epiphany-ette but I jumped into social media. Not FB, though. Still can't get into that groove. But I've hit Twitter, hard. And now I'm hitting the blog again. Sporadically, yes, but cut me some slack. It takes me forever to take a chance.

...and then true to form, I blunder right in. Clear the decks, she's diving in without any life preservers again.


Later days,

Monday, December 21, 2015

Holiday Blues and Ridiculous Thoughts

Ahh. S.A.D. rears its ugly little head.

When nothing means anything you lose track of time. I had no idea this was the week of Christmas.

I was a bit surprised that my holiday malaise didn't surface until this weekend. But had no idea what that meant.

Maybe if I had focused on the early warning symptoms, I would have been better prepaired emotionally and not be so set to crash.

Had a hard weeked. Every old behavior came flooding back. Every nuace of inflection or absence of response exagerated and extrapolated into self deprecating thoughts and feelings of rejection.

I should have realized. This has always been part of the unique cocktail of mismatched neurotransmitters that fuels my depression Especially the trigger involves themes of family and love.

The holidays currently upon us celebrate those very notions. The reality of disconnection from the holiday spirit makes for a lonely hollow time.

It's so strange that I can feel nothing and cry at the same time. Tears indicate emotion. Yet there are no emotions that I can identify.

Not the horrible aching despair of realcitrant depression. Not the weary fog of isolation. Not the veil of numbness. Then, what?

Lonelines? Longing? Unstimulated?
Rotting on the vine?

I don't know, but it is unpleasant. Both to see and to wear.

Just whining. Harshing mellows. I've tried to be positive. And I have been pretty good at it so far. For me anyway.

Wasn't as tiring as usual. Right now I'm working on at least keeping the tongue civilized. Soo easy. Soo comfortable to just lash out. Say horrible thing about myself , the world and life as a whole. Purge. They do leave afterward but why subject others to that bile?

I usually don't think about much that's beyond my own nose. Never notice that I'm vomiting the poison all over others. I may eventually realize it but it never used to be a problem.

Now I've "met" a few people online that are pretty positive cats. Or they keep their toxicity out of the experience. Don't dwell on feeling betrayed by own mind.

I must stay upbeat. Or so I would force myself to be. But that builds resentment, withdrawal and hiding in the isolation of indulging my depressive symptoms.

I don't want to do that anymore. It's only the holiday dysfunction within myself and my life that makes me want to pout, bitch, sulk, whine, throw it all up and out.

I did a little. But now I need to pull away from it. The desire, need & want to complain and paint the world in darkness to match my mood.

My mood. My ache to soothe. My scalding to tend. Keep them hold onto them identify them and they will dissipate eventually.

I actually kind of believe that. Not just faking till I'ts taking. My mind is yet clear enough to rember having seen this work.

White knuckle my way through and it's easier to get to the other side unscathed and unscathing.

Now, how to white knuckle the mental nausea without substance abuse, without illicit drugs, without any of the numbing tactics.

Now that I think about it, what really works  is making. Creating. Planning out. DOING. Even if it's just a small crochet silliness like a tiny technique test, it helps. Both in distracting me from my morose thoughts and tying up my time so I can resist writing crap as comments.

If I need to vent, I blog. Not particularly pleasant content  for any visitors, but how many of them wander by?

Like stream of conscious journaling only fashioned a bit more coherently.

Okay. I'm tired, and my jaw is killing me. Broken tooth nu under the gum line is loosening but still jyst barely attached by whatfeels like neural fibers alone.

Last time it happened I just yanked out the tooth fragment nerve ends and all. Short stab of pain ad it was over. The most painful part was getting the anchoring nerves to break.

This time, I can't reach the bastard with my big fat fingers. Attempts to rock it out with a Qtip have failed tdue to the occasional blinding pain that comes from pushing down on the tooth . Side to side, not so bad. Down on, hit me on the back of the head with a giant crescent wrentch and knock my ass out.

Anyway, the throbbing has settled for now. Eyes are droopy. It's early yet. 11pm.

I needs my beauty rest.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Feeling better. Of course, I can't sleep; but, I feel better. Kinda. No. I do. Really. Really. Wonder how many times I have to say that before I convince myself?


Saturday, December 19, 2015

Beauty, Family , Seasonal Effective Disorder & the Almighty Void

Finally saw the Wiz live. Broadway show revival. On TV. Missed first half watching original Wizard of Oz. Very meta.
I forgot the impact live performance musicalsh have on me.

Watching enjoying myself, then the fog descends over me and I become sad. Verge of tears. Not sure why but I expect it has to do with gigantic gaping fissures  in my psyche that are my character faults.

Every single time it's the same cloak of repeating words, "So beautiful. Too beautiful. Yet something else I will never be able to do."

I am incapable of beauty and it breaks my heart everytime I remember that. Stupid tears in response to feeling stupid sorry for myself. Always.

Just tried to watch Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland. Fifteen minutes is all I lasted. Then they were unecessarily cruel to two animal characters. Seperatigthem from their families and killing or abusing their children in their absence.

I can't describe how much I hate that crap! Yes, fiction. Yes cg animals. Nothing realm yet I am so enraged & upset. Family issues. Just freaking disembowel me with a dull hatpin.

My stupid feelings get hurt so easily. Devastated by what isn't real. But I hate it. People you love being taken from you and killed IS NOT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT!!!

Not for me.

Not ever.

Merry Christmas.


Wednesday, December 16, 2015

What Do I Have to Offer Anyone?

Was over at  listening to this week's podcast-

Dec.16.2015  #48: Giving Back

The host/ceo/guy in charge, Jordan Woods-Robinson is a lively actor/musician. Endlessly cheerful man with a very appealing way of seeing the world. 

Of the 7 points/suggestions offered and the many concurrent ideas and examples explored in this podcast, one in particular resonated with me:

#5 Speaking on Behalf Of Others
A way you can give back every day is by thinking outside of yourself and supporting those who don’t have a voice in the conversation...that don’t have a voice of their own...share a viewpoint, do so in order to help enrich the conversation. Social media makes it super easy to share.

I'm very good at feeling the outsider. I looks like I prefer to be alone. That I like being lonely. No. Not & never been the case.

Interacting with people exhausts me. When with others I act the part. Engage in conversations, try to be seen without making a scene. However, it consumes a great deal of energy to maintain that personable fun gal.

It's not a facade. It's me. Part of me. But it costs so much. Any extraverted behavior from me must be played out against a powerful  introverted mindset .

Think of it as inertia. Social interaction is akin to going uphill. It requires energy to start moving and even more to keep moving, or more accurately, keep from not moving.

I'm a lonely soul desperate to belong but unable to reach out in a sustainable way. Clingy & pathetic is no way to maintain friendships nor enter into Relationships.

Always thought I was alone in this until I was "introduced" into group therapy treatment. We were all the same! It was oddly comforting to know I really am wired incorrectly and not just a moody bitch who inadvertantly  pushes everybody away.

So what does any of this have to do with giving back or speaking up for the voiceless? It occurred to me that I belong to a group of people that has a voice but doesn't want to use it.

When I talk about my particular flavor of depression I have always just talked with out much thought about consequences. Only to inevitably later realize that no one wants to hear it, everyone suffers,the world has bigger problems ,yada yada yada. So then I get to feel shame & guilt for caring about what's inside my head, heart ,soul.

The group consisted of bright, fun, talented and kind people. Every one of which would stay to themselves if left to their own devices.

It's not only the exhaustion of interacting, it's also the fear of being hurt. And we do get hurt, easily and deeply. Because we are the only ones that understand the push&pull of our own conflicted minds.

We can't explain it to others because it's embarrassing and, ironically enough, isolating. We already feel that we don't belong. We aren't about to open our mouths and prove it.

But I do. Even if I wind up hating myself later, I'll open my big mouth and never stop talking. Obviously. So why not put it to good use?

I'll never get those that don't understand to get it. Don't even want to try. Talk about exhausting! No. What I can do is describe what's going on in the belfry. The whys behind the whats.

Maybe that can be my gift to those of us that run hot & cold on human interaction? I can still hear the doubt, feel the reluctance, taste the tears. But I already do this. I just need to stop fighting wanting to say it out loud & choose the best venue for the comments.

I don't know about opening up a dialogue just yet. Need to crawl before I walk or run. This blog has been the venue for me in the past. I was embarrassed. But I didn't stop blogging because of fear. After all, I'm almost completely sure no one even reads this stuff.

I stopped because I fell out of the habit when in and out of hospitals from 2011to2014 and it's taken me all of 2015 to get back into it.

I only hope that I can see it though and actually return to this. And addressing it also with my art. Let the world tire of my message,just don't let me stop trying to say it.

OK I'm tired now. Even interacting online is a huge drain of energy.

Yours in depression,

The Cx

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Been a weird few years. Only just got back into exposing myself in public. You know. With lengthy, meaningless, meandering, much too personal prose. One difference - I've taken to Tweeting my finger off instead of just blogging my guts out.

Been resistant to social media because of my penicillin sensitivity. (Because it's social, like VD used to be "social disease" get it? Huh yeah--- never mind. Lame over-reach there.)

So I got lonely & thought I'd give the whole Twit thing another go. I prefer it to Facebook. Never could get into that. Ironically enough, I prefer the quick hit that Twitter offers. No opportunity to get vociferous because of the 140 thing.

Yet I love to ramble on and FB allows that. I just feel very exposed at FB. Too many people that know me from the disaster strewn timeline of my life. The posts linger too long. Anyone can see everything. Don't like that. Too damned shy.

Yes, shy. I have the soul of a recluse yet an empty ailing lonely heart. Desperate to make a connection. I'm vulnerable for it. And it has cost me in the past. Always my own big mouth's doing. But painful none the less.

In fact Twitter may be a little too quick. My mind likes skipping around to different topics. I still love collecting ideas & Twitter is a wide river with a fast moving current. Always being brought new things, ideas, images, thoughts and people. But it's so fast that I can't connect.

I don't know how to connect one on one, face to face. So I squirm & alienate & don't get and/or stay connected. And that's when I have the room to wriggle and sidestep & walk away. 

I'm tired. 10AM. Tired. Listless.  Lifeless  Scared of dying like this. Trying to stay short & sweet via Twitter training . Obviously, no luck. Alas.

No joy in Mudville.

Mighty Ceci has struck out.

The big Cx