Tag Archives: stuck

Endings suck…

…Even stupid, meaningless ones that shouldn’t suck as much as they do.

Like tv shows that let you escape yourself.

And fictional characters dying.

Because they tug at the old hurt of all the losses that came before, and were actually meaningful…

It compounds when more than one loss is piled on at the same time. Then suddenly everything else comes flooding back, and it sucks…

The stupid, meaningless losses take on all the hurt and emptiness the previous ones left you with…

At least Lucifer wrapped up the series well, almost as if they were planning on ending it this season. They could take it further, but this is a good stopping point. They gave is the closures we needed to be able to walk away from the show satisfied.

Scorpion, not so neatly wrapped…

Totally left without closure; Chris passing away Monday. She had gotten through so many health issues over the years, ones that were true miracles she recovered as well as she did… I guess her body finally gave out. I’m not even sure if it was the cardiac issues, the kidney issues, the cancer, or something else that finally took her. Before this week, she had beaten cancer, recovered from kidney failure, and was recovering from bypass surgery… she and L were friends for a quarter century (give or take a year or two). I had only met her after I stated dating L, but she was an amazing person. She is greatly missed.

… Then the older stuff picks up; L’s dad, Chow, ButtButt, K & T, Floppers, Twigs, Tigger, Dizzy, Sugar Cane, Almond Joy… De, Chrispy, LKB… All the endings that were sudden, painful, and unresolved.

It all gets rolled into a giant ball that feels choking and overwhelming.

This time of year seems to hold a disproportionate amount of those losses…

And then there’s July 7th (the anniversary of K’s death, and almost 14 years later, my first suicide attempt… there were only ever 2 thought-out attempts where it was a conscious choice. Anything else resembling one was an impulsive, desperate attempt to find some peace, but not necessarily an attempt at ending my life… I blame it on the meds. I’ve never done anything like that when I wasn’t spiraling out of control on psych meds. Even when I was ridiculously depressed, I never gave in to the impulse when not on psychotropics. They work wonders for some people, but I am not one of them)…

Back to the original point of this post: grief sucks. Losses suck. Especially when the biggest, earliest ones were never resolved…

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Authenticity (of expression) 

Authenticity of expression is something I struggle with often. I’m constantly worried about what people may think, and the consequences of their opinions. 

This is especially true of my art. While it’s often the most authentic expression of self I’m able to reveal, I worry a lot that people will change their opinion of me based on what they see. I worry they will hate me, and deem me less worthy than even I deem myself. Sometimes I’m able to get past that in my art journals, but lately, even that has been censored. 

I feel stuck around being unable to express what needs to be expressed in any authentic manner. I find myself replacing the reality of what I want to create, with a “rainbows & butterflies” edit. I’m stumbling in therapy and focusing on the same, safe methods of expression; the ugly, scary stuff is replaced with a unicorn sticker…

There’s so much “icky” stuff floating around in my head, but I go silent when it comes time to talk about it. There’s a buffer between my brain and my mouth, and my brain and my hands. Things leave my brain one way, but get “prettied up” before they have a chance to be expressed. 

This piece wasn’t supposed to look so peaceful and serene… it was supposed to represent the struggles around trauma. It was supposed to express the loneliness and alone-ness of experiencing flashbacks and memories no one else knows are even there. It was supposed to be more graphic… but in the last minute, I froze, and changed the “gore” to “pretty” and ” socially acceptable”… 

Lately, no matter what I do, no matter my intentions at the start, everything gets censored for the comfort of everyone else. That all just leaves me feeling more alone and distant than before I started. 

I want to be able to convey what it feels like to constantly remember the physical sensations of things long past. I want to express the hopelessness and fear and loneliness and frustration and betrayal… but I end up stuffing it down and covering it up. 

It’s a betrayal of a different kind; a betrayal of my inner voice… it’s really frustrating. 


Updateless update

Not doing much lately. The anniversary has come and gone without major incident. Dr C is off on her globe-trotting adventure. I’m working a bunch. L is settling into her new job (and we actually have time to do things together! She doesn’t come home crying either). 
Insomnia is back again. I think I slept for maybe 3 hours last night. The rest of the night was spent trying to sleep. Had a weird dream involving a former boss. We became friends again, but not really. I’m not sure. It was weird though. 

One of the neighbors is off from work this week. She mentioned getting together at some point because she’s just hanging around being bored. Unfortunately, this week I’m working a bunch again. Maybe I’ll bug her tomorrow. She likes crafting/art stuff, as well as walking, so maybe we will do one of those things (or just be lumps on a log together). I dunno. I’m so tired all the time; it gets difficult to motivate to do things. Maybe if I cleaned the house we could do some art, but it currently looks like something off an episode of hoarders…

I’m supposed to see one of Dr C’s colleagues tomorrow. I’m not even sure why I’m going. Yeah, the thought of going a month without support is daunting, but what in the world am I going to talk to this lady about? It’s not like I can work on anything with her… Dr C had mentioned seeing her weekly, but I think I may just do bi-weekly so I only see her twice. I don’t really have the cash for the copays anyway. I dunno… 

I’m just tired… the depression is at baseline (I think). The flashbacks are at baseline (mostly). Everything’s just… flat. 

Been trying to work on some art, but nothing gets past the initial mess. I start a page without any real plan. Normally, the pages resolve themselves as I work. Now, they just become layer upon layer of mess without any resolution… Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kinda mirroring therapy. I feel like I start a bunch of stuff with Dr C, but we never get anywhere with it. Time runs out for the day and then it’s almost forgotten by next session. It’s a combination of other things getting in the way, and me not having the courage to bring it up again, or not knowing where to go next with it. I keep asking her to help me structure things better, but then I keep eluding her attempts at more structure. It’s like I’m shooting myself in the foot one mile into a hike right after asking to make it 20 miles long… 


ugh…

I’m feeling impatient and restless.

I feel like I’m trapped with no outlet…

I’m not sure what to do with myself.

I feel stuck.

Inside my head, I’m pacing like mad.

I think I might scream (a silent, wordless scream)

It’s a lot like the feeling of running from something, only I feel like I’m running in place…

There isn’t enough distraction here (here being at home, in my head, in the moment…)

ugh.

 


Hypnogogic hallucination

Early Friday morning as I was taking the little dog out in a half- asleep state, I thought I heard someone whisper “who’s coming?”. It scared the crap out of me. It took me another two hours to get back to sleep.

Now I’m wondering if it didn’t have something to do with this distanced, slightly dissociative episode that’s going on. Wonder if I was giving myself a heads-up about how intense it will be.

Feels like I’m stuck in angry, rebellious teenage mode. It’s a difficult space to be stuck in…


Leaving stirred-up after emdr

I went in with an intention to avoid doing more emdr on the unidentified stirrings that I’ve been running from. We hadn’t talked about doing emdr again today, so I didn’t expect her to have planned on doing anything, but she pickled up where we left off Thursday.

I didn’t really want to do it. I had questions about it all. What if all of this is simply another way to stuff things? What if, because I don’t know what exactly I’m “processing”, it will just come back later, with more of a vengeance? Can you really process someing you can’t even identify? I don’t want to be sucked back into that downward spiral again. I don’t want to spend another year and half in and out of the hospital again. I don’t want to feel that hopelessness again…

So we decided to tackle the fear of falling again. It was easy enough to put myself back into the head-space of fearing being so out-of-control again… it quickly branched to remembering what my files for disability read: that I was hopeless and a lost cause… we processed that a bit more, and it continued down the self-hate spiral.

The only thing today’s session brought up was the worthlessness and hopelessness and self harm urges… I kept thinking to myself; “please don’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me stuck in this helplessness…” but I never voiced that.

Then time was up. Way too fast. I was still in the middle of feeling and remembering how shitty it felt 6 years ago… all I wanted to do was cry and hide. She offered to have me stay, but my afternoon was packed. I left with tears in my eyes.

It certainly wasn’t a good place to stop, but it was what it was. At least my afternoon was busy. If I had been at home, the self harm urges would probably have won. I’m still struggling with them (and the urge to completely self-destruct), but I’m sitting with it. I’m not alone at home, so it’s going to be ok for the night. I work tomorrow morning, so that will be ok too. I see Dr C again tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully then we can pack away all of this…

I’m so tired of fighting this all the time. I’m tired of having so much to wade through, only to find so much more each time I think I’m getting to the end.

I’m just tired.


Censoring

There are no words, no pictures, nothing. Just tears and shutting down…

My lips have electromagnetic forces all their own that keeps them stuck together. My hand freezes over the page when I try to draw. Words won’t materialize at the keyboard. My mind goes blank and fuzzy if I try to get anything out.

The only coherent thoughts I have admonish me for making up all these lies, for needing the attention…

Tomorrow is therapy. Hope I can find a way to communicate.