Tag Archives: depression

Fuck me, I need therapy

Again.

If you are anything like me, I know you’ve had that thought. Your perfectly respectable (also perfectly fucking annoying) mental illness is acting up again and you get to a point, after you’ve cried 12 times in one day, had vicious mood swings, and have the anxiety shits for three days, where you are contemplating handing over $175 for 50 minutes to someone you love but can’t afford.

I’m sitting here with her email address up, wondering if I should take the plunge. Deep down I know what she will say. In fact, I can name them:

1. You’ve gotten married, moved, and basically have no job. That’s a lot of personal stress.

2. Do you have a routine? (In case you are wondering, no I don’t because I’m a fucking child and I’m floundering in some level of personal crisis.

3. Are you taking your meds appropriately? No, because once again clearly I can’t be trusted with my own well being.

4. Are you eating? Yes, I’d like to eat a gallon of ruffles chips right now, but this motherfucker resisted.

5. Are you pregnant? No. Not unless my unborn child is a ninja. (No, really. I checked because I’ve been convinced I’m losing my fragile little mind. Yes, my ass actually took a test out of sheer desperate in a weird parking lot bathroom).

6. This is a lot of transition and change for you to deal with. Do you have a support system? I can’t really bring my anxiety and depression with me to dinner. Unless they were wine bottles named anxiety and depression, then I could do that. I’m trying with people. I generally kind of suck at peopling. I’m trying with people. I generally kind of suck at the social scene. If I’m trashed, I’m wonderful but I don’t think that’s a great way to handle things that make my brain shake.

7. Are you going outside? Yes. I have to walk everywhere. Yayyyyy, physical activity.

8. What’s acting up? Well, I’ve had five anxiety attacks in four weeks (did you know there is a differenxe between an anxiety attack and a panic attack? I did not. I’ve been using the wrong vocab all this time). Then the depression sucks the air out of this windbag and promotes pathetic amounts of slouching.

9. Do you think this has anything to do with returning to a similiar country as the one you were physically attacked in 2012? Probably, but I wish it were more obvious. I try not to let it stop me from doing stuff. Then this guy touched me unnecessarily last week (because stroking my side is a great way to flirt with a random pedestrian) and I just turned around and walked back home. We got stopped by the police and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. So, maybe its acting up more than I’d like to admit to myself. I don’t want it to act up. That’s the thing about someone using a metal pole to hit a home run with your head, it doesn’t really matter if you want it to act up or not. It just does. The other night I was at a function and it was outside so it was pretty dark. The shadows reminded me of people running across the highway in Nigeria and for some reason I couldn’t handle them.

10. How’s this effecting your marriage? It makes me hard to deal with. It’s exhausting. I feel guilty. I’m trying to bury it in the backyard but then the bitch floods.

That’s probably covers a lot of questions she would ask. She’d probably tell me to not be so hard on myself which is generally not my greatest talent.

I guess the thing that makes it worse is feeling like I need to pretend to be ok. Generally, people want to hear that you’re good and life is instagram level fun and move on. I understand that. But, life is messy, people are complex, and joining yourself with another human is an ongoing series of unfortunate events with little peaks of nice-nice.

I guess I don’t have to pretend, but at the same time no one wants to be the debbie downer in a conversation. I mean, I don’t even want to feel like this so no one wants to hear my shit.

Also, I’m pretty sure there is no Wi-Fi on this flight which will severly impact the next ten hours of my life.

Update: I survived.

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Wake up

Tw: suicide

If you’ll do me the honor of putting on Wake up by NF while you read this, it’ll set the mood.

I’m sitting at the feet of the Nelson Mandela statue right now listening to this song on repeat.

Someone good committed suicide recently. Someone so kind. Someone too fucking good for this world. And I’m so goddamn torn up about it, that I can’t even form sentences.

She was one of many who were plagued by monsters. The kind that attack your mind and make everything so dark that you can’t find your way out. She fought them to death.

It’s so easy to write off suicide as weak. It’s so easy to say “they should of decided to live.” It’s so easy to shame those who suffer from mental illness. It’s so easy to forget the people who are different than us. It’s so easy to judge another’s suffering by ambiguous standards. It’s so easy to write a shitty blog post about suicide.

I’m so tired of being embarrassed and ashamed that sometimes I can’t keep my depression and anxiety locked away. I’m so tired of running away when the panic sets in. I’m so tired of hearing the excuses about mental illness. I’m so tired of hating myself. I’m tired of fighting.

I want people to wake up. I want communities to stop pretending they don’t play a part in suicide. I want people to not give up on us. I want you to stop excluding someone your friends call weird. I want people to stop walking away when they don’t understand a panic attack. I want you to go after the kid crying at work. I want you to ask how are you and not be afraid of the answer. I want you to reach out to someone you know and ask if they are ok. I WANT YOU TO ASK HOW TO HELP SOMEONE SUFFERING.

All it takes is one action. One moment. To change a person’s life.

I know what you are thinking. Families feel the strain of mental illness. Husbands and wives watch the person they love become a shell and they don’t know what to do. Sisters and brothers get tired of checking on their sibling. Friends are tired of the person turning down their invites. Sometimes they just want this disease to go away.

I get it. We get it. We need to stand up with our pain. We need to scream “here it fucking is. I carry this monster with me and I am not ashamed.” We need to ask for help. We need to get help. We need weapons to keep fighting. We need to get up when a hole in the ground seems like a great idea. We need to stop believing we are worthless because it’s not true. We

I want you to know what ever monsters that you carry with you, they are not bigger than you. You keep on fighting. This world is not better without you. Put down that knife and back away from the fucking ledge because we need you here. We need you.

So many of us have felt that temptation. So many of us planned it. So many of us almost did. So many of us tried.

I’ve been on that bridge, friend. I’ve wanted to watch all my pain fall with me. It takes everything to pull yourself back from the edge. Don’t let those monsters take you. They don’t deserve your life.

Sometimes Depression is Annoying as Fuck.

I feel like no one talks about how annoying depression can be as the person experiencing it.  More often we talk about how we don’t want to be treated during a depressive episode.  Or, how people can be shitty during a depressive episode.

But, I just want to put out there that my depression annoys the shit out of me 90% of the time.  I want to hit Depressed Lindsay with a tire iron.

Ok, so that was violent and uncalled for. Good job, self.

These feelings just pop the fuck up like I don’t already have stuff to do and inconvenience the shit out of me.  Like a bunch of paper-cuts on my brain.  And, I currently have a paper-cut under my thumbnail so I feel like I’m an expert in this field.

If people think it’s confusing because you are randomly leaking from your eyeballs – imagine how I feel.  I don’t even know why I am crying right now.  I CAN’T EVEN LOGICALLY EXPLAIN THIS TO MYSELF – HOW CAN I EXPRESS MY FEELINGS TO ANOTHER LIVING HUMAN?

And then, you have to expend all this extra effort to get out of bed, shower, and leave the house – because apparently being a hermit is not socially acceptable. I’ve been aware of this “hey, lets just melt into a puddle of violent self loathing and sadness,” for about 5 years.

It’s like going to a really terrible state fair – all the rides are the same and literally everything is gray. Sad Ferris wheel. Sad tea cup ride. Uber jolt-y kid roller coaster. Moist funnel cake, with a side of shit lemonade.  I expend all this energy trying to leave this awful fair, but it takes FOR FUCKING EVER because all the exits are blocked.  So, I ride these rides and go through the motions until I can get out.

It sucks. And, I’m annoyed by it. The end.

Two Truths and a Lie

It seems like an ongoing theme in my life that the truth isn’t really that important to other people. But, it’s important to me.

Some of the most shitty parts of my life vice getting slapped in the head with a metal pole and the violent depression that followed revolves around lies.

I’m not sure what it is about the difference between honesty and dishonesty that makes me feel unhinged but there’s nothing like a well timed lie and the eventual discovery to break my sanity into a million pieces.

I go through the seven stages of grief every single time like it won’t happen again.

And spoiler alert, it always happens again. I’m not sure why I never see it coming because its like a bullet train that’s about to hit me in the face.

Good therapy will tell you that people don’t change and the only person you can control is yourself. But, people don’t change, right? So, what the shit am I supposed to do when faced with this existential crisis again?

If I’m honest, this has been a problem with all the guys I dated except one. That one, to my knowledge, was unfledgingly honest and at that particular age I was too clingy.

A few years ago, I thought I worked really hard not to be clingy and insecure but then I found out about internet sexting and how that can ruin ones self esteem. I won’t tell you all is well and that it never creeps up on me like my period exploding at 4 am. It does and it hurts almost as much as the first time I was cheated on physically.

It must be me, right? I’m hard to be honest with. I don’t have good reactions to the truth. As another former lover would say “you didn’t want me to do xyz anyway so I didn’t tell you the truth.” This person was right. I didn’t want xyz to happen. And then it did. Over and over again.

Does anyone ever check up on old lies like they are friends? Is that just me? If we are trying to delve deep in my psyche, I guess I like hurting myself. I try not to sit around and do this because its bad for my mental health and the words obsessive and “stalker” get thrown around but I’m tired of hiding the fact that this hurts. And, lets be honest. Y’all do it too.

So, it hurts. It makes me feel unhinged. It may be dramatic and seem petty, but you know what?

I have a lot of fucking feelings and a lot of faults. And the shit that hurts the most is never going away, so all that’s left is to put my brain back together and keep trucking.

Because there is one thing I know for a fact. My life isn’t ever going to get easier. I just have to deal with the hard punches as they come and keep getting up. Eventually, I will get stronger or I will die.

Summer Blues

Last week, I had a melt down at work. The reason for the meltdown isn’t really the point – but I was reminded that people don’t really care all that much about anything outside of themselves (case-in-point I am writing about myself). Because of the type of job I have, I give too much when I shouldn’t. Part of it is guilt and, I guess, the other part just wants to make things work. I want to do a good job, but I do a good job at the expense of myself, sometimes. For example: We needed pizza for an event. My car was getting worked on that day. Instead of getting a ride, I walked to the pizza place (which was closed FOR NO REASON ON A MONDAY) and then walked to the location of the event (probably 2 miles from work). Ordered pizza online and it was delivered in the nic of time. However, why didn’t I just get a ride? Or have someone else order the pizza? Why did I feel the need to make it so hard on myself? Sure, its funny because its so insane. But, its not a good pattern.

It happens like once a month. Maybe, it’s because I find it difficult to ask for help.

I have found over the last year or so that sometimes things, places, people, organizations are just broken. This proverbial jenga tower cannot be rebuilt. Or at least, I am not the person to do it. Or maybe my jenga tower is broken. It’s funny despite everything that has happened over the last 6 years, I still haven’t figured out to how to let go or give less of myself. And, it tears me up because I feel too much, too strongly, too often. I am literally feeling down because of two fictional characters right now. I am literally anxious about trying to move in with my husband and encountering people at his work. It’s not for a month.

At the end of the day, the world goes on with or without me. Work will go on. People will go on. I am not a necessity. I’m not sure why I find this such a hard concept to understand. I am not the life-saving screw. I am just one piece.

I just want to turn off my feelings for a few weeks and catch up on sleep.

In other news, there are some photos that came out nice.

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Folding laundry

Things I fixate on while depressed:

1. Your eyebrows. Skeptical arches don’t make themselves (maybe).

2. Keeping your closet clean. I’m up to two weeks. Granted the drawers are a mess but everything is put away.

3. Folding laundry (a necessary evil for keeping your closet clean).

4. Online browsing for a marine corps birthday ball dress. Its sad how many hours I’ve spent on this. 

5. Contemplating my shoe collection. I have a minor addiction.

6. Trying to get at least 10000 steps a day and resorting to reading and walking to motivate myself. 

7. Fixating on wedding photos for several hours and then experiencing a facebook tag mania. 

8. Reading books in series too fast and finish 11 outlander books in three months without realizing you got to the last book then grieve that you have to live without the characters until the 12th book comes out.

9. Rewatch random parts of beauty and the beast several times. 

10. Worry about the shampoo you are using excessively and spend a weird amount of time in the hair care aisle of the store.

11. Name all of the stray dogs near the embassy. Develop relationships even though you can’t take any one of them home because you have two dogs.

12. Stay up late stalking family for photos and information for your massive family tree.

For the bad days

I’ve been experiencing a lot of mental ups and downs lately except the downs are in the depths of glacial hell. 

Because I like lists and I’m in a great mood at the moment (because its pizza day yo) here are some helpful tips when you feel like crawling in a hole or taking up permanent residence in your bed.

1. Pizza is worth sticking around for along with a varied list of food that depends on your personal preference. 

2. You may feel alone, but you aren’t. I guarantee that there is someone out there you probably know who feels as shitty as you do right now. Probably for different reasons, but still solidarity on bad days is important.

3. Animals on the internet are pretty great even if you are sobbing and have snot all over your face. 

4. You are good at a heckin lot of stuff. Like being you. NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD CAN BE YOU AS GOOD AS YOU.  

5. The demonic life storm cloud is not bigger than you. It feels bigger. It looks bigger. You may get struck by lightning. Or experience a tornado. But, you can totally handle this. Besides, maybe the lightning will bring out your superpowers. 

6. Eventually all the things that got you all twisted up inside will stop feeling as bad. It probably won’t stop completely ever…But a dull ache is usually better than the intense stabbing pains in your chest. 

7. Rainbows, fireworks (minus the noise), shiny things, shoes, cookies, fluffy pillows, fleece blankets, hugs from a designated list of individuals, seashells, dogs and kids are all relatively cool even when you are stuck in a pit of dispair 

Also goats in pajamas

I think that’s all I got right now. So, screw everyone who says you have to be positive and look on the bright side. It’s hard to look on the brightside when you may get struck by proverbial lightning but it may add and extra zing to the pepperoni on your pizza. Sometimes, embracing our pain is the way through it. 

Creativity vs Depression

I’m currently between two extremes:

  1. Massive Creative Mania
  2. Kinda want to wrap myself in depression’s blanket 

I’m sure it would help if I slept like a normal person. Don’t get me wrong, my sleep issues don’t have me up at all hours like they did in 2012-2013.  Mostly, I have trouble shutting down my brain to get to sleep, staying asleep, and then I have insane dreams that either leave me vastly confused about WTF is going on in my brain or upset about the emotional conflict that my brain made up.

Sidenote: I once thought there was a medication that stopped dreams. There is not.

I could deal with the sleep thing if I had benadryl – but I’m all out until my amazon order (Go to the store, you say.  They don’t have it here) comes in. Which is fine, I can hack it until then. Probably.

I feel like I am stuck between two extremes: wanting to do everything and wanting to do nothing.  The internal arguments between the Lindsay’s are particularly interesting and go something like this:

Artistic L: I NEED A GRAPHIC DESIGN APP. 
Depressed L: I’m tired
Artistic L: WE SHOULD WRITE THIS STORY
Depressed L: I want to sleep
Artistic L: AND HERE IS ANOTHER IDEA FOR OUR WRITING 
Depressed L: are you always this loud?
Anxiety: I have to pee 

How do you manage the extremes?  And well the anxiety doesn’t know what to do, so we are currently in the midst of a mental cold war.

And because the creative one is on hyperdrive – I created the below as a compromise.

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