Thursday, October 14, 2010

It always spoke to me about being messed up, depressed, aware of it but unable to find the tools to fix it. About the person or people who normally help you cope are finally having enough, and pulling away, and how much that hurts, even though you understand why. But also, how annoying and frustrating those people are too, always saying things along the lines of (though not always as banal) "cheer up" or "it'll get better" "it's not that bad, could be worse,"
When you're in that situation, that emotional headspace, those sentiments get annoying, if cheering up is that easy, how bout you just "reach down your hand in your pocket, pull out some hope for me?"
You wanna say you're feeling fine but you  don't wanna lie so you just avoid answering the question or you just smile and look away.  Always comment on your children in turn, it's not lying the kids are great.  Sometimes you enthusiastically reply great!  All the while you're thinking maybe if I can just say I'm great in my head a hundred times I'll believe it, remember to smile, remember to hug, try to answer the phone more, it might be true if I lie to me enough.  In a breath I can lie to everyone and it makes me ashamed of myself.  But my head is screaming "help me!  Don't fall for it, push me I'm lying and if you walk away I'm a little scared of being alone with myself!"  Sure enough most of my friends have drifted off.  I'm happy for them, they can't pull me out anyway, all I can do is drag them down.  I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.  I can't grieve properly for myself, I have emotionally died and I can't grieve because then everyone would pity me for being like her.  I hate her.  She made me like this without the courtesy of taking my sanity so I get to strap in and embrace the pain, wide awake.  What a cunt.  If I don't say it out loud it doesn't exist, if I just leave it it will run it's course.  Please.  Truth be told I don't see a way out at all, I hurt so deeply every waking moment that it seems infinite, to my core, clinging to my ribs and dancing on my brain.  So sharp I imagine only the deaths of children would be more painful.  I've never dealt with it before.  I had no idea.  All of a sudden I have more respect for Max.
As the late sylvia plath wrote in the Bell Jar...
"The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces." "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes and all is born again."
"The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence." "To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream."
"I am supposed to be having the time of my life." "And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."  Two am and I can't sleep so I'm looking up Plath quotes because no words can properly express the decay in my head and the torture it's been putting me through since the dawn of time I remember having these in Italy, these breakdowns.  I wrongly and crushingly believed moving home would fix me.  I lost any faith in god and I often wonder if the depression took that from me.  Puts Loosing My Religion in a new perspective.  But then I guess everything's already in a new perspective for me.  Like this world has been covered in soot.  Nothing's beautiful.  Everything's dirty.  It seems a shame that my poor little overtaxed brain should be rapid firing this shit off at me until everything freezes every few days.  Today I'm running rapid fire again and with not sleeping I desperately need the shut down but I just sit in the dark rapid firing pain, self doubt, guilt, shame, deep sadness and it feels like a cage around me that I will never be free of and will someday die in.  Do I even remember ever feeling real happiness?  I'm not sure... the results are in sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad, death.  What a waste, this is my life?  This is how it's going to be?  What the hell am I going to do with that?  Why did I sign up?  What do I have to learn?  Is it all chance?  Are tortured souls just dealt out at random?  I'm simply overwhelmed.     

2 comments:

  1. For as painful as this is to read, it's beautiful. I've been here, I struggle with it every day and put on the face saying I'm happy. Like if I repeat it enough I'll start to believe it...

    Sometimes I do-Sometimes I think-I do. I go about day to day and I-don't-need anyone. It's safer alone, dealing with these things alone, easier alone.

    You're not alone. You have me, and Josh, and Max... All of us have felt, or do feel this. Not the same, but similar.

    I love you, and don't want to ever lose you.

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  2. I feel some kind of strange release from letting out all my secrets. It takes the pressure off in weird way and this whole thing is a little easier to deal with. I don't want to dwell on it, but it's been at the forefront of my mind most of the time for a good while and it feels so good to just let it out. Another small consolation is that I feel the urge to write again. I have had writers block for about a year and I think the reason is that the only thing I wanted to write about was the one thing I didn't want to express out loud, even to myself. It's also freeing to just lay here in the dark and not have to worry Ken will think I'm upset or ask why I didn't get anything done around the house. It's nice to be me for once, even if 'me' is red meat.

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