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Archive for the ‘Journaling’ Category

A return to writing

I want to write again. To journal again. Vent out my random musings, thoughts, ideas, attempts at poetry and other such nonsense.

One thing depression is good for: a burst of creativity.

At least, that’s how my depressions begin. Sleepless nights, anger, despair, and a desire to be more active.

 

It’s madness, this life, this chaotic life.

 

Has anyone ever learned to stop wanting approval from their parents? To love and to not seek love in return? This is my current struggle.

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Day treatment again?

Spiraling downward at home.

Depression.

Panic attacks.

Morning insomnia.

Sleep all day.

No showers.

No shampooes.

No cooking.

No leaving the house.

Two tears fell today.

Gettin worse worse worse.

Feelin shitty shitty shitty.

Trying homeopathy.

New therapist.

Cymbalta continues.

Lies lies lies.

Job?

How?

Gettin fat.

Husband frustrated & angry.

Hide under the blanket,

Let me sleep, forever.

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what do the experts call i t, anhedonia? yes, that’s how i feel (or don’t feel rather).

flat mood.

i do nothing.

but it’s another matter, that i have no desire to do anything either.

i am not severely depressed, not in the well. generally ok, laugh a little, sleep a lot, eat some, take care of myself some, of the house some. (the laughs are starting to feel made up more & more).

i am not normal, by any means, normal said with all the endnotes it needs. i am not efficient, i am not productive, i am not satisfied, i am not tired from work, i am not doing.

i am between those two. and yes, have been here before. familiar territory.

after lifelong depression, it starts to feel like a familiar coat or pair of pants that one knows every crease, touch, feel, fit, size, smell of too well.

there is a huge lack of desire to get out of this flat affect i am fighting, to take just one itty bitty tiny baby step in any direction is taking up more than i seem to be able to muster right now.

i could melt. just end. life, living, everything. and be fine. not out of any intense depression, no not out of wanting to die, just so tired of living.

if you, dear reader, have any advice, do comment.

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I can feel your hold lifting off of me
I crave you no more

Words still pierce my heart.
Truth.

You preach and preach
Ego flourishing
Imagine yourself raised up higher than the rest of us

I look into your eyes
All I see is
a lost boy

This is the end, for me
for my attachment
for you.

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Move! Get up, go, forward, just do it.

Mulling, analyzing, caught in my story, attached to my bed.

If there was a mood monitor, like those heart rate monitors next to hospital beds, mine would be a flat line right now.

Stuck. Can’t. Get. Un Stuck.

Two days and nights sleeping then one staying awake all day and all night, then two days and nights sleeping, and so on.

Housework has made me sore like I ran a half marathon. Pathetic.

I still dream of you S, but much, much less than before. When you complain about your new wife, it re-affirms for me that you didn’t make the right choice. If you are happy with her, content, I may be able to let you go completely.

A singular emotion at the bottom of it all, Fear is running my life.

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Yesterday night mom, papa and I went to the dandiya
/ raas get together for navratri. As we entered,
they told us to put our names and numbers on our
tickets for a raffle. I was writing them out, and
thought I've never one any of these types of things
in my life, but have a feeling one of us will win
tonight. So I wrote the names very legibly, then
entered the cell numbers, put all 3 of our names on
the tickets, and handed them over. Then forgot about
it. I danced some, mom socialized, dad sat on the
sidelines and watched, then we left very early
because papa got overwhelmed and teary eyed, he's
been very depressed lately and the commotion and
crowd turned out to be too much for him. I said
let's go home, no big deal, we can come back next
weekend, so we left early before the aarti. Today
friend of my mom's told her we missed seeing you
later and your husband won the raffle and they were
calling his name for a long time and they'll call
you. I'm not surprised at all that my dad won that raffle.

I knew one of us would.

These experiences are beginning to get very
eerie.

No, it's not eerie actually. I used the wrong word.
There is a little bit of fear inside actually with
these experiences. The same fear I felt in that dream
of the Buddha statue opening one eye, fear of a realm
that feels new (even though it isn't, it's as old as
Life itself), it feels new, and therefore a fear of
the new, the unknown.

I have also felt this fear as a child, in moments of a
strong connection to the Universe, of "wanting"
moksha, and then a feeling that I'm actually "getting"
there, and then a fear, a "I asked for this and I'm
getting it and is this what I really even want? No,
maybe I'll retrieve into the mundane, the ordinary."

The experiences continue. I was thinking about my
kathak teacher from India who came here in the summer
of '96 and wondering where she is, and I look her up,
and find out she's been coming to Seattle every summer
to teach, and she's performing with her students in
Seattle next weekend. This woman is a professor in
Delhi and lives there. I thought of her after  years,
and she's performing 1 week away, 3 hours from me,
just enough time for me to make plans to go meet and
reconnect with her, maybe.

I emailed an author I'm very fond of, out of the blue,
3-4 years ago, Irene Vilar, found her email address
online. She wrote back. We've exchanged a few emails.
I told her of my depression as a teenager and how her
writing had helped me, so she got worried about me. I
wrote her back a few months ago, she responded, but I
didn't write back - inertia. I was just thinking, I
should let Irene know that I'm fine, why let her worry
about my suffering, and got another email from her -
THAT SAME INSTANT (after months). She said, she had
been thinking of me, hoping I'm doing OK.

I can make myself fall sick, at times. I have told
people that I'm feeling like I'm catching something, a
fever, not feeling well, when in fact I've been
feeling completely fine (I have said it to gather some
TLC, some attention, pity?) - Yes, I've lied. But 24
hours later, I'm actually sick and have a fever. The
pretend becomes real. This has happened more than
once. If I claim I have a stomach ache, it becomes a
stomach ache, if I claim I have a fever, it becomes a
fever, I can choose. I don't lie about being sick
anymore. Manipulating people that way was a bad idea
to begin with.

The fear rises and dissolves. When it dissolves, I
want to merge into the ocean, a flame that
extinguishes, and I'm willing to see clearly, with
deeper and deeper mindfulness, into my feelings,
thoughts, desires, conditioning, lives, karma, the
cycles. I will merge, I will disappear.

And if he is intuitive the way I am, and I know he
is, then he will know what I'm saying here, he is
hearing what is said and also what is left unsaid.

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I’m here. I’m alive. I’ll come back. I’ll write again.

I fell into a hole of inertia.

I am climbing my way out.

I tried to hide.

But Life found me.

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