> okay.

> sounds great.

>  perfect plan.


did you disagree?  because I didn’t?

I suspect tomorrow will be fine.

but I’m seriously running out of “bad days” that don’t get logged as “last days”.



the Final Day is ideal,


















please allow it to come soon … or even better ASAP…..


blub blub…

I have 64 words for NaNo so far.  and that’s all just from editing and adding words to older work.  none of it is totally fresh content.  because I have no fresh content in my brain.  I can’t think.  I’m too tired all the time.  I either have something else scheduled at the time, or I don’t have something else scheduled and therein opt to just sleep.

I almost made it to kickboxing this morning.  I got dressed and packed up.  I was fighting off a breakdown the whole time.  then, when it was time to put on shoes and go out the door, I just cracked.  I started bawling.  by the time I gathered myself enough to leave, it was too late and would cause me to be truant.  so I cried all over again.  then Brian eventually coerced me into going to the apartment’s gym and just walking on the treadmill at a stroll for 15 minutes.  and then I tucked my tail between my legs as I shuffled back to the apartment, defeated.  he congratulated and said he was proud of me.  he reiterated that “something is better than nothing”.  but all I could think of is how “a lot is more than something”.

I was legit tardy to work yesterday.  I couldn’t wake up; I couldn’t function.  I was so fatigued, it was beyond words.  and it’s not like I stayed up late on Sunday or anything.  maybe it was the time change Sunday morning.  maybe it’s just my body shutting down.  but it caused me to be late to a point of disciplinary action.  I mean, it’s just earning points towards a larger avoidable balance (think golf).  but hey, any points is more than no points.  and I got some points for being truant yesterday.  ugh.

I’m really falling apart.  I don’t know how to keep above water, much less start actually swimming again.

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.

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.

medication, relationships, and disassociations

oops.  so I’ve managed to not take my morning medications almost every day this week (my most important meds are my morning ones, of course).  also, I’ve forgotten my evening meds numerous times in the last two weeks.  however, I’ve been fairly good about my mid-day meds — naturally, because those are the least important of the three.  ~sighs~

I’ve been totally exhausted lately.  like, before my screwing up the taking of my meds.  that’s actually what led to my forgetting to take them.  over the weekend, I just got really, really tired.  then Monday morning, I sleep in until I absolutely have to wake up for work, and I forget to dope myself up while I rush getting ready.  and it just happens like that every morning for the rest of the week.  today included.

Brian called me while I was on my way to work because he noticed I forgot my meds.  I’d be late if I had turned around though.  and I just also didn’t give a fuck about going back to take them.  “it’s not like they’re doing much good anyway”, half-sleepy me told myself as I steered with one knee, guzzled an energy drink with one hand, and shoved eggs into my mouth with the other hand.  (the second knee was attached to the foot reserved for the gas and brake pedals.  I have to get creative whenever I need each a hand and a foot/knee/leg for the shifting and powering the clutch.)  so I just thanked him, and kept going away from home.

I’ve been frustrated with him for a day or so now.  he did tiny thing A that is a big thing to me, and I noticed I had an emotional response about it.  I did my best not to have an emotional reaction, and I only kinda succeeded.  but then I beat myself up for having emotions at all.  I typically get very angry at myself when and because I’m angry at him.  and of course, during all this, I don’t tell him shit, because I don’t want him to start feeling bad about having peeved me off.  but he inquired this morning, and I was just like, “let’s talk about this when I’m not running late for work, okay?”

second thing I really wanted to discuss here (venting about Brian kinda snuck in here, lol) is my disassociation qualities returning.  I’m getting “that feeling” again wherein I’m not Me.  I’m multiple peoples living in a single body, so take turns sharing the physical cage.  I “see” myself doing and saying things.  I’m over-analyzing my actions in a very particular way — not so much “objective” as it is disjointed and disconnected.

maybe it’s the lack of medication in my system.  maybe it’s the two energy drinks a day I take just to stay awake.  maybe it’s whatever started making me so tired over the weekend.

maybe it’s finally time for a Cycle change, and I’m going to go into a mania soon.  that would be a nice change of pace.  I haven’t had a proper (hypo-)mania in a while.  though I doubt it, given all the additional sleep I’ve been needing.

one thing I’m going to discuss at therapy is how I’m so Tired.  like, when she or my psychiatrist ask me about how this is going or what I feel about that, I just wanna look at them and say, “I don’t know. I’m too Tired to think about an analyze it.”  an me being too tired to analyze something — not a good sign.

I suppose that’s all for now.  I’m just really off kilter.  and because I don’t know the cause, I can’t even pretend to come up with a solution.

on how depression applies to my current job

I am finally reading posts again. it’s made not crying on my commutes more doable.

to an entry of someone whose writings I admire greatly, I commeneted as follows:

one thing my various doctors and therapists always told me was how with mental disorders, what something is now is how it seems to have always and will always be. for example, then in a manic phase, things seem great and you feel like you could take on the world — and you can take it on tomorrow too, and the next day, and the next … and even months from now, you’ve got this shit in the bed and will never have a sub-par day again. the “sick mind”, as we and it are sometimes called, struggles to separate now from forever. this is the same on the depression front too. and it all really sucks ass.

I would love to take my own advice here, but I think it’s unrelated to my work concerns. I know that eventually I will get the hang of it, and I may even eventually prove to be really badass at it. but it’s legitimately the “right now” about which I’m concerned.

I feel as if I have so few Spoons these days (see Christine Miserandio’s “The Spoon Theory”). I do’t have enough to ensure this shit day after day, and still try to function on top of that. I even told a friend last night how coming home and crying for an hour or so after work (as I have been doing) is generally helpful im the emotional sense, but it requires much more Spoons than just cutting would. sure, it allowa me well enough to move on with life lethargicly that evening. but the next moening, I am still drained and hopeless. just getting out of bed costs Spoons that I will need on the job.

and as I told Brian last night,this is a special kind of self-hatred that I have by the end of each day. this is the kind the occurs because you’ve let people down. it’s one thing, for example, when you are going to fail a class because you suck at something. but when I was teaching, the notion of letting all those students down was devestating. similarly, I am going to end up destroying this law firm’s books. they don’t deserve that; and I can’t help but feel that I deserve this employment chance.

a2z: Hopelessness

April 2015’s Blogging A to Z:


I’m a pessimist.  I don’t mean that so much in I see bad and horrible things all around me.  on the contrary, I go out of my way to try to both find and create goodness.  I admire the small child bouncing through the puddles in a parking lot; I smile at complete strangers who are humming to themselves; I extend warm thank-yous to those who hold the door open for me.  but I am a pessimist.  I assume that horrible, terrible things are what are most likely.  not always promised, just likely.

this pessimism increases the strength of my depression.  and my depression, especially when unmedicated, breeds hopelessness.  I no longer merely predict things will turn out poorly; I now expect them to.  and I expect them to turn out horribly with such sureness that I am surprised and in disbelief when it doesn’t.  but before we get to that point, while are still waiting the demise of justice or happiness, I become hopeless.

I become so hopeless, I don’t even want to want the good anymore.  the hopelessness yields this sense of despair and void, an emptiness that strips me of all effort and care and love and desire.

and that’s where I’m at these days.  it’s a numb pain; it’s like the throbbing of a wasp sting after the venom has passed.  you know it should hurt more; but you don’t care, because the poison’s already in your system.

in many of the scholarly pieces I’ve read over the years, it seems depression precedes hopelessness.  many with depression will just mull in their sorrows; it’s not until they reach a point of actual hopelessness and true despair that they ever take any actions to either A] get better or B] get gone.  in many of my research on my more morbid interests, Dr. Aaron Beck’s work reappears.  as per this topic, I can bring up the Beck Hopelessness Scale.  it was created back in 1974, so the assessment is very simple.  but if one is being honest with himself, he’ll see if he’s in line for a path of trouble, or just having a rough ride.

for shit’n’giggles, let’s take it right now:

  1. I look forward to the future with hope and enthusiasm.:  false; I am fearful.
  2. I might as well give up, because there’s nothing I can do to make things better for myself.:  false; I could run away and start a new life somewhere else.
  3. when things are going badly, I am helped by knowing that they can’t stay that way forever.:  false; even if they were to get better, they would only grow worse all over again.
  4. I can’t imagine what my life would be like in ten years.:  true; I’m struggling with more than ten weeks from now.
  5. I have enough time to accomplish the things I most want to do.:  false; I feel overwhelmed, which causes a lack of productivity, which yields a sense of additional overwhelmation (can “overwhelm” be a noun?).
  6. in the future, I expect to success in what concerns me most.:  false; I will never return to grad school, and I will never get published.
  7. my future seems dark to me.:  true; it looks like hell.
  8. I happen to particularly lucky, and I expect to get more of the good things in life than the average person.:  true; I am actually very lucky, all things considered.
  9. I just don’t get the breaks, and there’s no reason to believe that I will in the future.:  true; conversely, I’m also very unlucky; things are rarely just “normal” for me.
  10. my past experiences have prepared me well for my future.:  false; I have no idea how to be an adult or responsible without special treatment.
  11. all I can see ahead of me is unpleasantness, rather than pleasantness.:  false; I expect some of both; though I predict more of the former.
  12. I don’t expect to get what I really want.:  true; but largely because I don’t even know what that is anymore.
  13. when I look ahead to the future, I expect I will be happier than I am now.:  false; I honestly dodoubt it.
  14. things just won’t work out the way I want them to.:  true; though more accurately, things tend to not go as I prepared.
  15. I have great faith in the future.:  false; I have faith in very little.
  16. I never get what I want, so it’s foolish to want anything.:  true; though I think this more about ever being happy.
  17. it is very unlikely that I will get any real satisfaction in the future.:  true; I will always be miserable, even with all my numerous blessings.
  18. the future seems vague and uncertain to me.:  true; 100%.
  19. I can look forward to more good times than bad times.:  false; not at all.
  20. there’s no use in really trying to get something I want, because I probably won’t get it.:  false; I often get what I want — except peace.

scoring is one point per “negative” response (and these statements make it rather clear in which direction “negative” is, lol), though an actual key is provided to the staff member.  scores 0 to 3 suggests no issues; 4 to 8 denotes mild hopelessness, but nothing alarming; 9 to 14 suggests moderate hopelessness, and the staff member is to recommend treatment; a score of over 15 suggests the individual is a suicide risk.

so let’s add me up: 1+0+1+1+1+1+1+0+1+1+0+1+1+1+0+1+1+1+1+0 = 15.  okay, that’s disgustingly coincidental.  I was hoping for a 13 or something.  you know, something to suggest I hadn’t given up yet, but was close, lol.

and again, this is an slightly antiqued and incredibly over-simplified approach to determining one’s level of hopelessness.

besides, if we’re actually hopeless, we don’t need a test to tell us so.  it’s something you feel in your core, deep into your bones.