Memory in a Dream

Tonight is one of those nights where the nightmares are real and they just won’t stop. Where if I could bring myself to touch someone I might just want that contact. Not even the person I am currently staying with sees that I flinch away when they get too close, I haven’t looked in a mirror for years, and I don’t seem to sleep anymore. I know after seven days my fingernails will get brittle, my skin and hair will dull, and my body will begin to break down. I look at this clinically because I can no longer feel anything – the well meaning ones took care of that.

I realize in a detached way that there is something like broken glass inside me, churning around as I move. I am almost afraid that when I cough beautiful red will stain my lips and I will know that the glass is real and not something I imagined. It will bubble up and spill over looking for all the world like an over filled glass. Pouring down in the restless tide desperate to overtake ground. Just as real as the red that pours out of a thousand tiny cuts so carefully hidden from the world. Its stunning in its own way and there are people who can see that for the tragically beautiful sight it is.  The same way someone looks after everything else is done and the only thing left that they can do is cry because of its loss. There is purity in that sight unlike anything that people normally feel or witness. Just as there is purity in inflicting and receiving pain.

No one notices that the nightmares leave me screaming or that my heart beats too hard against the razor shoved carelessly and deep within it. I am surprised no one hears me break, slowly, so slowly over time.

I am waiting for the hallucinations to start. A nifty side effect that even the most hardcore drug addict would envy if they weren’t so real and so inescapable. Then they will come with their solutions, their quaint notions, and their tired cliches. Eventually they will say every thing will be alright except that it never is because they can’t see what I see. They don’t know what I know.

The blackouts have already started… some long purged defense mechanism gone haywire. Making me forget entire blocks of time because it can’t protect me from itself so it tries to protect me from everything else, even the things I don’t need protection from. Now I can’t even escape into my own world, I can just watch from afar wondering what the architects have planned.

It won’t let me rest. The cycle has gone one long enough for me to be wary of closing my eyes wondering what I will see when I do. I see it but I can’t feel it anymore and I can’t decide which is worse.


On Being Alone

There are a lot of truths about me that I am fine with being alone is one of them. I hope those who read this add their own.

1. I am fine with being alone. I like it, need it, cringe without it. Many don’t understand that I don’t need someone there with me on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. I particularly don’t need a boyfriend or girlfriend to validate me.

2. I get more accomplished when there is no one around.

3. I like to eat alone because I can read or simply enjoy the food without having to make conversation.

4. I like to go to movies alone. I can hog the drink and popcorn. I can enjoy the movie without someone judging me for what I am watching or what I think about it.

5. I don’t care if people see me alone. I really don’t care what they think. When they try to keep me company because I am alone and must need it it just keeps me from enjoying the activity I am doing.

6. I don’t think a woman alone has a problem, no friends, or is lonely.

7. Please don’t touch me. I don’t like it when you do. It is not that I am inhuman I just don’t want your hand on me. I don’t feel an obligation to put my hand on you. I don’t want to be hugged or comforted I might be alone but I am not lonely.

8. If it looks like I am doing something I probably am, leave me alone. This is a big one for people who interrupt my reading, eating, or working time.

9. I am not lonely. Alone does not equal lonely please don’t assume it does.

10. I am not in the market for a husband, boyfriend, partner, or lover. I do not need someone to complete me I am complete all on my own.

These are all things about me that people have mentioned or done. Some of them drive me crazy (like I am not there already). Society tries to dictate what I should feel when I am not with someone and it makes me cringe because it is just not me. Just because I happen to be alone it does not make me lonely.

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Not Me

I have not been myself lately or rather I have been too much myself lately locked inside my own little world begging for escape. I look around at the people with me who don’t know me at all and slip back into an alternate reality that is more real to me than anything I can touch or hold but is infinitely more twisted that anything thought up on this plane.

In my world if something can think to do it, it has been done in technicolor brilliance that can only be accomplished in the mind. Things so twisted that they can only exist inside someone and they can only feast on the light and love in your soul. And feast they do. I am losing it.

I look at others, listen to them, and realize that no one has it worse or better than me because their mind might be doing it to them too. If I can hide it away from everyone but my readers they can hide it from me. Which sparks the thought, as I look at each person in turn, what horrible things is their mind doing to me as we talk. Are they similar things to what my mind is doing to them. Would they cringe away from me in horror if I told them or would they just smile at me knowingly.


Is that the same hunger or darkness I see behind their eyes? Is it the same blackness that is behind your eyes? I don’t know why you suddenly shift away only that you do. My mind instantly goes to the questions is the darkness showing, radiating off me like some twisted negative lighthouse.  Or is it the blankness, the utter soulless look that is in my eyes. Does it make you think “she’s checked out?” Do you even notice? No one else does…

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Public Stigma and Reasons for Hiding

I speak often of the depression I suffer from. Sometimes it is in graphically descriptive terms as many of my posts are and other times it is plainly as this post is shaping up to be. I recently went very public to friends and family with the problems I experience with depression.

That was a very large mistake. Instead of being able to be more open I have had to hide more. I cannot use phrases like help, sick, hospital, or state that I am not feeling well without a paranoid lets call in the nice young men in little white coats reaction. Frankly I am considering moving, changing my name, severing the support system I thought was in place (turns on those I relied on were worse than those that I ran from), and going somewhere so big no one will know me or care as I slowly degrade and bring myself back up again. This is because I am the only one who can, help would be nice, someone to talk to would be nice but not worth the fallout of being honest with people close to you.

When I began this I talked about when to call an ambulance and when not to. Unfortunately no one seemed to listen lol. Let me rephrase what I said at the beginning, unless I am bleeding out don’t call the ambulance. Calling can, will, and did ruin my life.


Please Excuse My Rant

I am extremely disappointed in a variety of things lately. It amazes me that things like depression, suicide, and agoraphobia are still miss understood. Recently I was dragged from my home, handcuffed (not the good kind of handcuffed) and thrown into a mental facility. All for saying something that I was actually feeling. It seems I am too fucked up to talk to someone professional about what I go through every day.

I spent 48 hours staring at puke brown walls and listening to other people’s problems. Basically I was the therapist and a patient. Considering the staffing and the fear of expressing actual feelings to them overrides the ability to get help. Once you are in everything that you say can and will be used against you to make you stay in a horrid situation longer. All of this from simply seeking help for an overwhelming situation. If my life was not bad enough before this it is horrid now. Everyone I care about now looks at me as if I am crazy which admittedly I am but most of the time I am functionally crazy.

I like things that most people don’t, I mix pleasure and pain readily. I enjoy strange things and have a really hard time controlling basic impulses. I love it all there are very few things that I won’t try. My life was screwed before and all this did was ruin my relationships with my friends and family. I know I am not making sense but remember when I said there are times to call the ambulance and there are times not to. Well calling the police and being taken to a hospital in handcuffs is enough to destroy your life.


Can’t Sleep the Clowns Will Eat Me

No seriously they will…

This is for everyone out there suffering from depression, in a depressing situation, or who is just tired of living. Unfortunately there really isn’t anything that I can say to change this but it would be nice.

Now seems as good of a time as any to start writing this. I am not sure why I have the urge or what it will accomplish but well here it is. Tonight was a good night. I finished what I needed to do (kind of there is always more). I took my medication and then some –

Med list –

  • 1 100mg anti-depressant     check
  • 1 100mg anti-depressant     check (yes it is a different one)
  • 1 1 milligram antianxiety     check (as I have said it has been a good night and I don’t need more)
  • 2 OTC sleeping pills               check

Now the fact that I wash this all down with a cup of coffee might seem a bit counterproductive to some but hey I like the taste of coffee.

It is amazing to me that there are not many people who  understand or could understand what your average depressive person goes through. I think I might be writing this to explain a bit of what it is like to those who have no clue.

If you are not depressive imagine this:

A wasteland tortured twisted buildings long since rotted away. Sand and rot along with structures that no insane architect would come up with in his wildest schizophrenic dreams. In the center of this lovely world sits a black pit. Not a big pit just big enough for one. Inside this pit is me. The walls of the pit are a thousand glass shards, tiny bits of sand like glass that push into already open wounds. Looking up all that can be seen is a tiny hole where light should be. Instead there is only swirling oil slicked darkness.   And remember this is a good day.

No I am not goth nor do I enjoy being unhappy. I don’t read maudlin poetry or listen to singers whining about how horrible the world is. Actually I think the rest of the world is quite nice but I just don’t live there. No I am not suicidal, although I have been. Yes I wouldn’t particularly mind being hit by the 4:10 bus filled with school children as long as it hit hard enough to kill me and scar the small children for life (no I don’t like small children). Death wish yes suicidal no.

I should probably make the point that if you know someone who is depressive these ramblings might help you understand a bit of what they are going through. If you are depressive you might realize that you are not alone. I am writing this for those two reasons. The further a depressive is away from distraction the further they are away from remaining alive. There is so much that most people don’t understand about the illness. There are so many people who say incredibly stupid things like “cheer up” and “it will get better.” I can almost guarantee that those truly depressed people you say these things to really want to slap the person saying it.

The point is you can’t cheer up. It does sometimes get better for a little while but in the back of your mind you always know it comes back.

I understand no one will read this and I understand that those that do read it will most likely not make sense of it but it is worth try.

Ok so today was a restless day. You know one of those days that you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. One of those days when you realize that your friends are not really your friends, your boyfriend is a matter of convenience, and if you could you would scream. You know I don’t scream. I don’t start screaming because I might never stop. I know in my heart and in my mind that my depression will eventually kill me. When I take my medication in the morning, afternoon, or night I think about taking all of it all at once. I don’t and I probably never will but the thought dances at the corners of my dark mind.

I wonder what it would be like to be normal and I wonder what it would be like to be somewhat sane but that wouldn’t be any fun would it. Normal and sane people don’t get to experience what it is like to want to die, to crave it, to think about what it would be like to just slide into oncoming traffic.

Some people wonder why a child is killed or why a horrible car accident killed a mother forever depriving her children of her love. I wonder why can’t that be me. I wonder why people who are killed every day are picked to die instead of me. The mother of the two children in the car who dies is needed in this life.  The mother with the husband waiting at home did not want to die right then. I do. So why not?

This gets into the question of why do bad things happen to some people and not to others. Truth is I don’t know. If someone wants these things to happen to them then why not pick the people who want to die and kill them. I guess that is just because most people don’t want to die. You can debate this point on so many levels of religion and philosophy. It is just like why isn’t there a secret society matching up rapists with those who want a rape fantasy. You would think it would work out for both parties but life doesn’t work that way. Not in this moral everyone be nice everyone be happy society we live in.

Anti-depressants    check

Sleeping pills      4 today insomnia is a bitch

Antianxiety         3 today life is really a bitch.

Today nothing much happened, nothing much changed. The fear inside me is just creeps around my body making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I live in fear and today was worse than most. It is funny how people judge worth. Is it what someone else says, what you do in life, what you say. Who you hurt or who you try not to hurt.

Despite the drugs sleep is just not going to come. I got half of what I set out to accomplish done today but who cares. No one sees what I do or what happens to me.

I reach out for help and get told that it is all my fault. It just makes things worse when someone screams at you for feeling bad. Need to find a decent paying job for student teaching… gods what ever made me think I could teach.

There is only so much more of this that I can stand. Even with the medication sleep does not come easily and tonight the fear I won’t wake up on time is paramount

The hole is closing around me the tightness is almost more than I can bear. Thank god I am not claustrophobic. The shards of glass cut deep but the pain on the outside is nothing compared to what is inside.  I think that is why people cut themselves and why I used to. It is something controllable something that I can feel and know its real and there.

I am gonna get locked up sooner or later.  On a positive note I think I can finally get some sleep now.

Ok today was exceptionally good and bad. Took my friend to the doctor which is a good thing. Not sure how I feel right now. Drugs are starting to take affect…or is that effect I never know the difference. I briefly pulled myself up out of the hole to take a look around.

Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain.

Some people will react badly to thoughts of suicide, either because they are frightened, or angry; they may actually increase your pain instead of helping you, despite their intentions, by saying or doing thoughtless things. You have to understand that their bad reactions are about their fears, not about you.

These people do much more harm than good.

No one outside of us, nor we ourselves, can accurately determine our risk for dying by suicide. It cannot be determined on the basis of attempts we have or have not made, and it cannot be determined by totaling up the number of our warning sign conditions. The longer it lasts and the worse it gets, the greater the likelihood that we will die.

Now that that has been said this is what I have found for all of you who are reading this to possibly try to understand someone who is clinically depressed and does the ever horrible thing of calling you.

If you feel you have to call someone in to “help” chances are you are making this person’s life worse. If you don’t call someone and the person commits suicide it is not your fault. A person who is suicidal will kill themselves regardless of what you do. By not making things worse for them by calling the wrong person, you have just possibly extended this person’s life. Calling the wrong person at the wrong time only puts more pressure on the person who is suicidal. This might not make sense but I am not a big believer in the “it’s for your own good philosophy.” It’s not for my own good it is for your good. It is so you don’t feel the guilt of not calling someone.

This brings the question can a truly suicidal person be saved by medical personnel. The answer to that is no. If someone really wants to kill themselves they will. The fact that they called you is a good sign but not the sign that you need to seek medical attention for them. Now I am not saying if a person calls you and tells you that they have just taken 100 sleeping pills and a bottle of tequila not to call an ambulance. First make sure that that is indeed what they did. If they did then call the ambulance.  Make sure that they did. If they didn’t and you call an ambulance then you have just made things worse.