Tag Archives: fuck

depression and frustration

Woke up wanting to cry… that spot I was hoping to avoid is exactly where it feels like I’m headed. I’m resisting the desire to call out of work for today. I’m torn between thinking it would be good distraction, and fearing I will be too mired in my own shit to be competent at the job. Maybe if I we’re just in the back with the dogs, it wouldn’t matter, but I’m up front running the customer service today. It’s lonely up there, and there’s too much opportunity to think and feel…

I want to cut. I want to escape this overwhelmingly uncomfortable feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness. Calling out today would put another notch in the “worthless & hopeless” column, but so would going in and fucking up with the customers… I feel like I can’t win.

The house is a mess. No matter how much I try to organize and clean, the entropy of the mess dictates that it will remain. A surface gets emptied only to be re-cluttered later on the day. I put things away so they are not talking up the little space we have, then they are too out-of-reach for L. I can’t win… I don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I’m so tired of trying, only to have it return to its original state…

I just want to sleep (and maybe cry more).

This wasn’t a good time to stir up all this. It was threatening to break, but I kinda had it under wraps. It might have held out till next week or the week after. I might have made it through the end of December without falling apart. Fuck… I Fuck up everything I try. *This* is why I’m scared of trying a real career again. I can’t hang on for more than 6 months without a breakdown…

Depression colors everything

I woke this morning wanting to cry my eyes out. Depression sucks. It’s a gorgeous day. There was a quick shower, and a pretty rainbow, and I want to cry harder.
L reminded me there are only 12 days till my visit, and I was overwhelmed with a heaviness. How is it that such a happy experience should make me so sad? because I know the sadness at leaving will be heavy and wet and incredibly intense. I know, I shouldn’t focus on the ending before it even begins. That’s the fun part of depression though; it doesn’t give a shit…
An acquaintance made the move to initiate friendship, and that made me want to cry also. People shouldn’t be nice to me. They shouldn’t put forth the effort, they’ll just be infected by this black sludge that invisibly oozes from every pore. I admit, I do my best to hide it if you see me out and about, but it’s there. It’s sticky and heavy and traps everything in its path…
I wanted to cry when I read an account of someone’s snakes living well into their 50’s. I wanted to cry because I was both happy that mine may be with me for a much longer time, and sad that the hurt would be huge when they do finally pass… I know, you are thinking “but they’re snakes!? They’re icky and slithery and snakes!?” But they have their personalities and they are not icky at all… and I will miss them when they move out of my life, like I miss every pet I have ever shared my life with…
So yeah, depression is loud and very present this morning despite my best efforts to smile and decide to be happy. It’s coloring everything with those dark storm clouds… I can see the rainbow, but it’s very faint and fading fast, leaving only the gray clouds.



5 days of relentless flashbacks that get progressively worse, these last two days I caved and took ativan to help the intensity. They are still here, but in the background somewhat. Did things I never do: called a crisis line (not just the chats) more than once. Admitted the flashbacks to mom. Sent texts to a resource I never seek out… I have gone through my gamut of healthy coping skills. I have tried them again and again. The memories that are coming up need to be voiced to someone trained to hear them, to know what to do with them, to help me set them aside.

These need to end soon.  I’m so spent. Someone on an online support forum suggested contacting TL and asking for an earlier appointment. Aside of the fact that she pretty much made it clear she won’t see me before my time on Tuesday, I’m not sure what she could do to help. I don’t think she has experience in this. and if she asks me what I think would help, I am not sure I could tell her anything other than to hear them, and help put them away. she better not ask me how to help put them away because I have no idea…

I hate when memories have their own time-table. This stuff was supposed to be saved for a time when I have longer with a therapist, and for someone who knows what to do with it all. For when I have more accesses to supports… but flashbacks and memories have a life of their own. Fuck.


De will be leaving the agency in just under a month. And I leave the state 6 weeks after that. Finding a new therapist is pointless.  Whatever. Shit happens, right? 


sold a group of my reptiles off today.  hope they do ok.  at least the store has more national (and international) reach to sell them.  hope it wasn’t a mistake.  still have 10 snakes and almost 20 lizards… need to keep moving the lizards.  they are more labor-intensive than the snakes.  it’s just all too much… 

saw De today.  not sure what I was looking for, but I guess it was helpful.  came up with ideas of what to do this weekend to keep safe and ahead of that black fog (or at least to the edge of it).  re-homing some of the herps was part of the plan.  i feel like I failed them though (especially the boa)… i hate myself for failing.  i hate myself for bringing the puppy home.  i hate myself for so many reasons.  i just want to stay in bed.  we are supposed to hang out with a friend tomorrow, and it’s really the last think I want to do.  bed would be nicer.  i just want to sleep right now.  i almost cried on the way out of the store.  😦  

so tired of all this.  wanting to find a blade really badly right now.  the self-injury would be comforting… f*** the fact that I will be getting a massage later this coming week or next… it doesn’t really matter, I can just bandage it and tell her not to do that leg… what difference does it make anyway.  who the f*** cares what some stranger thinks.  I doubt I’d ever see her again anyway, I can’t afford massages without buying them from living social, and that always means new customers only for stuff like that.

L is struggling also, and I wish I could be more supportive.  but I’m just lost in myself.  f*** the world.  not in a good space today (this week)… none of it matters.  nothing matters.  it’s all just pointless anyway.  


and confused/conflicted. I suddenly feel ok to try to work. I think I can do this without falling apart. I seem to be able to reign in my depression with more ease… The walls come quicker and higher these days. I don’t want to be useless and jobless. Though I know I struggle with going volunteering even twice a week, maybe if I had the benefit of a paycheck, I could pull it together more often.

On Friday I had told De about feeling useless on disability. It still feels like a death sentence. I know my energy comes in spurts, but maybe if I HAD to function for a job, I would just force myself into it. I have always been taught that you have to keep plugging on. There’s no sick days unless you are on your death bed. Lately, all I have are “sick days”. I want to be productive and useful and have a purpose… I want to have something to say when people ask me what I do. De said I might need to grieve that productive life. It was on the way out, and I didn’t really get what she meant. The more I think of it though, the more I think I disagree on that point. If I grieve being productive and the life I had before, it feels too much like I’m giving up and will never get out of this space. I just need to keep looking at it like a stepping stone. (It’s funny that I say this all the while the little voice in my head is telling me not to worry because life won’t be that long anyway… I think only people who have battled depression and suicidal thinking can truly understand that little voice – even when things are going well, that nagging thought plays on repeat in the background. I used to think of it as an escape plan in case things got/stayed really bad. These days, it’s at once something I laugh at and something I desire with every fiber of my being. Once the little voice gets louder, it’s difficult to drown it out. Then I just have to wait it out, it has to sleep sometime).

I see De again tomorrow. I think on top of everything else I want to address (asking more about the art therapy possibilities, talking about the disability stuff, touching on my fears about the past coming to life again with this relationship, feeling overwhelmed by a lot of stuff…), I need to address the crazy mood changes and the background suicidal thinking. I can coast along just fine when distracted, but the minute the distractions stop, everything comes crashing back.

I don’t know what exactly to say. My head is all over the place even now, and I can’t hold a train of thought. I still can’t see a definite future for myself. There are things I want to accomplish, but when asked where I see myself in 5 years, the tears are triggered and my head answers: dead. The cycles are maddening. If my head will still be battling all this in 5 years, I sure-as-hell don’t want to be around for it… I love my life, but not my head. Does that make sense?


is it so fucking hard to just find someone professional to talk to?! 2 crisis lines that have since been disconnected, 3 places that are not taking new clients or you have to be on state to get in… UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’m not suicidal.  I don’t feel the need to call a suicide hotline just so I can talk to someone and not fall apart in the next few days.  That’s really all I want, just to talk to someone… why is that too much to ask?