soaking

in the tub. with my cell. with bubbles and epsom salt. with hot and hoefully healing waters.

in my self-hatred and concern. about my skills set and capabilities. about if my creativity is even alive anymore. about my cage called “a body”.

in my longing. for the sun. to be outside. to have a group of friends. to host shindigs. to have a home again.

in my fear. of my personal future. of what this president is doing to the whole world. of my career. of never being happy again. of being stuck in this state.

in hopelessness. because nothing will  change soon enough. because I will never like, much less love, myself. because I will never truly write again.

in the tub. with cold water now. without anymore bubbles or full grains of salt. without any sense of peace that this was supposed to give me.

soaking.

Advertisements

can’t do this

I CAN’T DO THIS.

I’m tired of the NOISE.  so tired of THE LOUD-ASS NOISE THAT FUCKING ECHOES IN  YOUR GODDAMN HEART.  IN YOUR FUCKING MIND.

We throw tantrums like parties.
We’re not happy ’til everyone knows we’re SICK.
And that’s just how we like it.
We’ve hurt Bad enough, right?  We’ve Earned it.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
you can hear It.  It Breathes against you.  It Breathes in spite of you.  you are merely a Pawn in Its creation.
I mean, how many more times must our stories be told?
And being lonely’s only fun in a group;
It sort of loses it’s charm when it’s true.
you can’t do anything against its noise and chaos and pain and hate and loudness and rage and anxiety and compulsions and noise and paranoia and eating disorders and thoughts and opinions and concerns and just everything.  there is too much.  and the Mind never stops.  NEVER STOPS.
So now you know all my secrets.
I want out; I know I don’t need this.
Can you find me friends that don’t rank me on what I’ve been through?
The more battle scars, the more attention it gets you.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
but I Like it; rather I  Need it.  I hold on to it.  I don’t move past it.  because I’m scared about what’s beyond me, what’s More than me, what is -Without Me-.
I meant it when I said,
“I wanna get well! I wanna get well!”
Are the rest of you so content?
Stay where you are, but it hurts like hell.
And I’m sure it’s fun at first;
test your pulse, and check your vitals.
If it’s only a Game, you lost me.
I quit it with the Suicidal Recital.

shit.  I can’t even pretend I know the original direction this post was going in…..
I was lost.  hopeless.  depressed.  so many of those Old and Comforting Feelings I had.  but Brian suggested I Write instead of mope.  Write.  how often do I Write anymore?  and what of that which I Write even matters anymore?  I mean, none of it really.  at least back then, it was the Truth as per a small child whose life was important.  now I’m adult who’s thrown off on her own and matters not.
Yeah, we should’ve known it would End this way.
What did you expect? — pretend it all Away?
And all we’ve got left is a sorry pile of hearts.
I’m getting out — gonna write myself a new Start.
Come on, dry your eyes, meet me on the other side.
Run as fast as you can, and we’ll make it out alive.
We know better now; we don’t have to live like This.
Go tell them all we don’t have to live like This.

SURPRISE ME.

let me go.
let me FREE.

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/Z9fGKx7yzF4?rel=0

let me not wake tomorrow.

I’m tired of this Battle again.

it’s the same War I’ve been fighting for so long.

LET ME GO!!!

 

a non-typical post about Panic Attacks

so first, let’s understand a typical panic attack:

“a sudden feeling of acute and disabling anxiety.”  that’s the general definition.  when people think of “panic attacks”, they see Monk freaking out.  how cute, right?

but real panic attacks are more than just that.

and then there are the atypical panic attacks.  the ones that happen in the mind and never manifest outside the body.  I just had one.  I was sitting here, trying to coordinate my route and plans at home.  and inside my Mind, I lost my damn Shit.  externally, no one would have seen anything; I seemed fine.  I was in control of all my motors, and I wasn’t babbling some incoherent shit.  but inside of my head, LIGHTS WERE GOING OFF THAT SET OFF ADDITIONAL ALARMS AND EVERYTHING WAS SHUTTING DOWN AND I CAN’T DO THIS!!

and then, after several minutes, it stopped.  and now …. now that I am ready to write about it, I can’t.  so there goes that fucking useful as shit entry…….

happy birthday to me

it’s here. happy birthday to me, I suppose. I survived another year of living with myself, of beating myself up and despising who I am and what I haven’t accomplished.

a friend has to postpone birthday hangouts last night. instead, a different friend came over last night and gave me a few gifts. I skipped the gym this morning. I have had a few wishes her at work; I’ve received a few texts from my Louisiana folk too. then there’s an unrelated work hangout this afternoon. in the evening, I’m going to Noodles and Company with a third friend; he will probably pay, knowing him. then tonight I’ll cry myself to sleep. Saturday, Brian will take me to dinner and to see Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. at some point, I know I’ll get a gift from another friend who always sends something.

 

I wanted to cry when I woke up this morning. I really hoped that my gift from The-Powers-That-Be would be my not waking up finally. alas.

my sleeping issues have returned. I’m not sure what’s up with that. I mentioned to Brian about going back to a sleep specialist, and he agreed that it was a good idea.

my depression is worse, too; but that typically happens around my birthday.

I haven’t been to therapy in several months. she had a health issue that kept her out of work. she wants to meet Sep 2. I liked what work we were doing when we were actually doing it. but her constantly cancelling and rescheduling appointments was a real pain, and I had decided that I wouldn’t go back. but now, with the state I’m in, maybe I should. for now, at least. …man, I dunno.

I got a UTI last week. haven’t been back to my kickboxing since then. I know that’s not helping my mood any. I also ran out of my fibro and my axiety meds two weeks ago. so that’s taking a toll.

 

overall things should be great for me. but I’m crazy, and things are not good in my Mind.

so yeah. happy birthday to me.

Tough Mudder

I survived Tough Mudder!!  within this hour exactly one week ago, I started a 5-mile (8.05k) job that included 13 different military grade obstacles — and I obviously survived.  It was legit testing, y’all.  sure, a few years back on a Zombie Run, there was a time I needed to stop and catch my breath, and I decided to just let them take my flags if they wanted; didn’t matter, I needed to breathe.  but this was different.  this was legit mentally and emotionally challenging.  I was concerned I wasn’t going to be able to do certain obstacles, or that I would greatly injure myself in a n attempt.  I questioned my very decision of being there, or having signed up for this.  and then I went all existential and questioned so many other decisions in my life, including the move and the job acquisition.  but I just paused, recollected myself, and moved on to the next challenge.

and I completed it.  it seems like I should be more proud than I am.  I don’t hang out with or talk to fitness people anymore, so no one really understand the magnitude of difficulty that is the Tough Mudder.  normal adventure runs are a joke compared to this (I don’t mean to down those 5ks; I still love ’em!!).  but I don’t feel proud.  I’m disappointed in myself, that it was as difficult as it was for me.  that I didn’t prepare better.  that I didn’t perform better.  I’m disappointed at how it wasn’t as amazing as it should have been (as is related to things within my power, not the organization).

I suppose that’s the pessimist in me, the cynic.  the hyper-self-critical perfectionist.  but I don’t know how to change that about myself.  I suppose this is something I should bring up in therapy.

that darn cat

we thought The Cat had escaped.  like, completely.  we thought it got out of the Office and left through Zero’s pet door back out into the wild.  this has been a concern since Thu afternoon.

we moved this week’s Date Nite to Monday, and we almost just didn’t have it because I was having a breakdown about this stupid cat.

then this morning, Brian swears he heard a noise in front of him, while Zero was behind him.  also, dry food that we had forgotten about (outside the live traps) was all gone, and it was on top of the giant tower — where Zero is very unlikely to go.  there was also something knocked off the tip top of the highest bookcase — also a non-Zero location.

so there’s a possibility…

I just wish we knew for sure.  and I really hope we catch her before my parents come up in five days…

“[…] and we are soon forgotten […]”

early

~ Charles F. Raymond ~