Search

Please Don't Ask Me To Smile

Brain Stew

On being an Introvert. At bloody Christmas. 

So, the struggle has been real. 

So real that I feel my voice has been muted and thus I have not written. 

Christmas almost killed me. By Boxing Day I felt like I wanted to die. Quite literally, the will to be alive had been sucked from me. 

Firstly work had basically left me an emotional open wound. Many reasons which I will not explore here but I emotionally felt like a fresh graze on a hangover with sunburn. 

Then, Christmas – all the people. Who I love. But they all want you ‘on’, you know? So by Boxing Day I slept til 12pm and when I got up I wanted to be unconscious again as soon as humanly possible. 

So I fled home to be with my cat. 


The very next day it was time to drive to my brothers. It’s okay, his place is like a quiet haven of peace – no need to talk or be ‘on’ so there began my reset I suppose. 

And so now here I am, ready to submerse myself in festival culture for 3 days, I wonder where my head will be at the end!?

Is this emotionally intelligent? To seek enjoyment that drains me so thoroughly? Or is that the definition of stupidity… I can’t tell. 

Advertisements

Home in my Heart

So I have dodged and weaved and avoided my follow up psych assessment appointment. I’ve even lied and said he cancelled on me. I’m sorry guys. It just absolutely terrifies me. I can’t say why. It’s weird. But I just explained to a friend that it feels like that moment in the Lord of the Rings where Samwise, Pippin and Merry (mostly Merry) realise they have to do a thing. 

And the thing is going to make peace possible. And that is soooo cool but fuckkkking hell doing the thing is going to be scary and gross and uncomfortable and dangerous. There will be a necessity to miss out on second breakfast and elevensies!! Then there are the demonic beasties and rough roads to travel… What if I don’t survive? I guess I think…and people tell me… Survival will be more comfortable if I put in the fight.

You know what? I have also avoided all the recommendations in any meaningful way. I can talk the talk and make it sound like the best intentions have been put in place but I am really not walking the walk. 

But. I am not cancelling. I have an appointment in just over 60 minutes and I am going to attend. 
So, “…this is it. If I take one more step it’ll be the fatherst away from home I’ve ever been”. 

https://youtu.be/DcziMI0tol4

Ugh. 

It has been such a while since I’ve posted. Not because things have suddenly been fantastically sunny, glitter covered and wonderful. Nor have they been the depths of darkness and dispair. It’s been that low level buzz of normal, people around me may have thought ‘she seems better’ but no – I have just chosen the road of numb okayness.

Maybe people don’t understand this, maybe people think ‘that’s what everyone does’. Well, let me tell you about numb okayness with my depression. With each little stressor one does not shake it off or feel a little ‘ugh’… The thought process is a little more like;

  • Someone says ‘what are you doing?’ – my response is WHY DO YOU HATE ME I MAY AS WELL DIE FOR FUCKS SAKE.
  • Can’t sleep? – OH MY GOD I’M A PATHETIC DRUG ADDICT I MAY AS WELL JUST DIE WHY AM I SUCH A LOSER OMG. 
  • I watch a show where someone dies – WELL IF ANYONE IN MY FAMILY DIED I WOULD KILL MYSELF AND I THINK I JUST WANT TO DIE NOW AND MAYBE I WILL RUN AWAY AND NOT BE CONNETCED TO ANYONE BECAUSE IT HURTS. 

Like I know that ‘I want to die’ and ‘kill me now’ stuff is like part of our daily lexicon now but I do no mean it that way, obviously. It’s on a more cellular level for me. Like I am ready to finish this now.

New blog post. 

Ohhhhhhhh

I am not … coping I guess? Like I can pull on the mask and go along for a dinner but OMG I feel like I am ready to have a vicious, loud and messy melt down. Like that one thing will make me schitz – great word used by clients long past. 

Pretending to be okay makes the alone time very hard to deal with. 

Sleeplessness Blues

I can’t sleep. 

This is when it gets worst. 

Please let sleep come. 

The song..

.. it changed my life hearing this for the first time. 

Listen…

Those sepia tones…

Depression is a very tricky beast. I can literally smile and have moments that I know are beautiful but it’s like they’re drenched in some sort of developing fluid. The photo metaphor doesn’t end there. 

I feel like days are grey, like a black and white photo blurred with fog. I feel like I’m not in them I’m seeing them through sad sad eyes. 

That’s the hardest part. Like Lisa Mitchell sings in ‘Dog’ (will post);

“And the worst part is knowing my part in it all/ Yeah the worst part is knowing it’s nothing at all”

Doubting. Wondering. Am I making it all up? Does everyone have days like this?

No. Not to this dark, dark extent. 

I feel like a chasm of doom and destruction. 

Hence avoiding all relationship. 

I felt such magnetic attraction tonight and all I could think was ‘Stay away. Far far away I am a catastrophe awaiting a victim’. 

Psychotherapy 1

So! I did it. I resisted the multipl urges to cancel a particular friend was instrumental in this with a very well timed check in message. 
Although I have accessed counselling in the past this really did feel like my first ever ‘psychotherapy’ infact there was a “lay back and tell me about your childhood and life leading up to this point” moment! And I did. And it fucking hurt. 

There are painful traumas that I thought were over. Things that I have set to theme music and related to like movie scenes. Blurs that I think would be concrete, episodic memories except there is so much pain peppered there that I think my brain fogged up the glass of my memories lense to protect my fragile little heart. 

My doctor, Dr K, congratulated me for not giving into more maladaptive coping mechanisms. He also congratulated me for using my empathic, emotionally vulnerable self to help other in my work, gently questioning if this is sustainable. 

He pointed out the multiple traumas that I have lived through and pointed out that I am a survivor and strong. I cried. I haven’t done that in counselling for a long time and never with particular focus on my own being. 

Dr K has suggested I will have ongoing, years long psychotherapy to avoid sinking to the depths of depression and dying.

This feels like a beginning. I am still tired and sad and I am not sure what my work life will look like over time. Or who I will be. But I’ve got a glimmer of hope that I might get old now.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑