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.

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congrats to you, Reader!

 

somehow, we made it everyone.

I’m not really sure what to say. I’ve been MIA from here for a while. I just don’t want to Exist. And stuff like my blog keep me chained down. I mean, that’s kinda the point — to keep me grounded when I start floating away or (as is now) sinking below. but that doesn’t mean I like it.

the weekend is almost here.  I never had issues with weekends being “too short” until this job.  at the library, I loved what I did.  here, I like it well enough.  but I enjoy not being restricted to this office.  so I dunno.

in other news, my parents and baby bro (by “baby” I merely mean “younger” — he’s 27 XD) are coming into town to visit in the middle of June.  I think I’m actually really excited about it.  😀  I’ll be exhausted once they leave, I know.  but I’m excited for them to come up here.

more than anything, I’m excited for something different.

I keep making plans on the weekends and after work to keep me interested in life.  but all it is doing is making me exhausted.  so again, I dunno.

I wanna do another DITL — “Day in the Life” is a little internet fun thing wherein you take photos of an average day for you.  coffee if you have it every morning, gym if you go regularly, your work station, etc.  it’s fun.  and it makes me be present and in the moment more during the day, so as to decide if something is worth adding to the collection.   then you post your collection on your blog, your tumblr, your Instgram, Facebook, etc.  anyone else interested in doing one with me?  we don’t have to coordinate on exactly the same day.  but knowing that someone is expecting it will keep me accountable.  :3

I suppose that’s really all for now.  I just wanted to congratulate myself and everyone reading this for making it to another Thursday.  good job, y’all!  🙂

meh. \shrugs\

I locked the door behind me as I was leaving for work yesterday morning.  a thought flashed through my mind: “I should quit my job today.”

I didn’t.
and I won’t.

but I wanted to.  not for any of the reasons I’ve ever left a job before — which is almost always that the job is slowly killing me on the inside.  instead, I wanted to quit because I just wanted to quit everything.

I had stayed home Tuesday due to have fell ill over the weekend.  I slept all. day. long.  and Wednesday morning, I wondered why I wasn’t doing that everyday.

it’s been a while since I’ve just wanted to Quit.  like, not necessarily or specifically Life itself.  but just Everything.  (recent months, it’s been wanting to very precisely Quit Life.)  but as of the last few days?, weeks?, it’s been just wanting to casually say, “okay, that was fun.  but I’m done now.”

like when you’re playing a game, and you’re just done playing.  time to stop.  nothing drastic like taking your ball home.  nothing like forfeiting the play.  just, time to stop playing.  no remorse, no regret, just Quittin’ time.

part of me is very apathetic about my family coming up here in June.  (another part is OMG, super stoked!)  a large portion of me just doesn’t really care about anything.

will I be fit and prepared for the Tough Mudder?  meh.
will I do something fun this weekend?  meh.
will I enjoy reading my books the next time I pick them up?  meh.
will I eat anything today?  meh.
I just don’t really care about anything.

nothing seems important or matterful.  things are neither easy nor difficult, good nor bad.  I just don’t care.

I’m not sure if this is an improvement or just a side step from crippling depression.  the jury is still out on this one.

the tiredness

a great read that really put you in the footsteps of one who suffers.

 

“When mental illness gets the best of you, we remind ourselves of who we are.”

Source: When mental illness gets the best of you, we remind ourselves of who we are.

rain

it’s raining.  it’s not snowing ; it’s raining.  because it’s getting warmer, and water is no longer freezing.

we had neither the funds nor knowledge last year to really enjoy the winter.  we had no friends, didn’t know where anything is, and didn’t even know what all one could do to play in the snow.

this year, however, we should have done something.  we didn’t even make a fucking snowman this year.

yeah, I should’ve just gone and did something without him.  I should have made all the arrangements and told him I’m going, offering him to join me if he cares to.  but that’s all for another post.

there may be snow this Friday. but everything’s already melted so much, whatever comes down won’t make much of a difference.  he mentioned going up to somewhere like Duluth where they may still have snow.  I just shrugged, because I doubt there will be enough in which to really do anything.

but at least Rain is back.  and at least Spring is coming soon enough.  and hopefully, with it the Sun.

the days are obviously longer here in the summer than back home, just as they are shorter in the winter.  maybe the return of the Sun will help with my SAD.  though I suspect the Sun will rise, and I will still be horribly depressed, and we still won’t know how to fix it.

the Darkness

I wouldn’t call it a “fascination” or “obsession”.  it’s a relationship.  it’s an unhealthy, symbiotic relationship that we have — the Darkness and me.

I’m starting to work out again, and I’ve been making good progress on my DBT (dialectic behavioural therapy) work.  I’m cutting out snacking, and I’m going to start eating better.  I have a really good job, my car is running fine, I’m starting to make a place in certain social circles, etc.

but I can feel It.  It’s pulling me in, with It’s Beauty and Awe.  I’m ready to stop eating complete, for example.  the idea of embracing my eating disorders that I managed to subdue, it’s attractive.  of going down some Darker paths of truths and ideals.  mental images of me cutting are once again what I use to calm my nerves and focus my attention.

It’s warm and familiar and close.  It wraps me up in a thick blanket of comfort and knowledge.  It’s always there when I come back, in one form or another.

my musical taste, my reading preferences, my thoughts, desires, ideals, hopes — they’re all Darker.  and not the “bad dark”, but the beautiful Darkness.  the one that’s ever ready to hold you tight in Its arms, slowly suffocating you with Its comfort.

I suppose it’s potentially a romanticization of an aspect of depression.  or it’s just me thinking only about the good times prior to my “getting better”.  whatever it is, it’s real to me….

but does it really?

so that post about every little thing mattering….. ugh. foot in mouth.

I’m walking the up and down the stairwell in my apartment complex because I can’t bring myself to go to the gym. I am weak and tired; and my current issue is my shame for being weak and tired.

I couldn’t even get into gym clothes without just bawling. so Brian told me to walk around the complex in whatever I am in (work clothes). better than not moving at all, right?

I can’t bring myself to go out of the stairwell and into the hallway. what if there’s a person? I can’t be around people right now.

so I’m hiding in the stairwell. but I’m walking. up, up, down, down. up, up, down, down.

better than nothing, right? every little bit matters?