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I see dead things

Sep 02, 2010 - 3 comments

OK. It is time for me to write. Because I am trying to be productive and am running into a wall. At first I was just thinking that it was my usual modus operandi… procrastination. Well I was probably right there, at least in some measure. Procrastination is a family trait. But no, it wasn’t entirely that.
I suspected that it was a troubling case of ennui. Certainly every moment of my world is tainted with that. Still that explanation was too tidy.
I am currently trying to move some of the books (I don’t read) from a bookshelf in my bedroom to a bookshelf in the dining area. My aim to put the creativity based books (I don’t use) near my computer work area. The absurdity of moving dead things from one area of the apartment to another became quite clear. And unread books are dead things.
So there I was, engaged in my task, driven by a fear of not doing anything productive. I happened to look over at another shelf full of dead things, and I saw photo albums (some full, some empty). Without hesitation I thought, “Well there is another task… put together the photo albums with all the loose photos… just like mom and dad and I always intended.”
OK so it is obvious my error there. There is no more mom. And dad is in a home, depressed. And who is left to leaf though said potential albums and experience good memory moments?  That would be just me. And good memories make me cry. And leafing through our lives alone would make me cry. And putting together the albums alone would make me cry. And ultimately, who the hell would the albums be for?
So I began looking around and saw all this stuff. This dead stuff. And I realized that the reason it is so hard to be productive is because everything around me is dead. And now it is time to bury the dead. After all, pretty soon I won’t even have the luxury of surrounding myself with dead stuff anyway. So my productivity should really be in giving it all away. Giving it to someplace where it might not be dead anymore.
The problem with some of this thinking is that giving away everything you own is a common activity of suicidal thinking. I don’t want to go there. Maybe I should allow the thoughts purchase as a sign of letting go of an old self. Letting go of the collector of the dead. I suppose that scares the hell out of me. Because all of this stuff always meant possibilities to me. And now I have to admit that I never made any of those possibilities real. And maybe that is why I am bound for disaster. Bound for the role of pauper. No more collecting anything for me.
All this stuff. It reminds me too much of earlier versions of me. A me of hopes and aspirations and dreams. Those are dead things too. Time to get rid of it all. So I think that is what I am going to do. Give it all away. All I really need are a computer and a TV and a bed and a couch. That is the extent of my world anyway. And that even fits into the horribly small life I am heading into.


The hard truth is too hard

Aug 30, 2010 - 3 comments
Tags:

hard

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truth

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Depression

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demons



WTF? I have enough on my hands dealing with my depression and all of the thoughts that plague me that are not real.... why do I have to deal with such a harsh reality? Thoughts that ARE real. How do I know they are real? (It is kind of ****** up that I have to even figure out if something I am thinking is real). I know they are real when outside sources verify them. For instance, I am in serious financial trouble. Things are going to get pretty ugly. Are those distorted thoughts? Catastrophizing? All or nothing? Black and white? No. My therapist, my family (what there is of it), they all say, "yep... it is gonna be hard going for you." I don't like that on top of my desperately hard inner life, that my outter life will also be desperately hard. The really screwed up part is that it is because of my inner struggles that I have to struggle through the world at all. The depression ate my lover, ate my job, ate my career, ate my art, ate my friends. It is endlessly hungry for any scrap of life I hang onto. And if it feeds, that is my fault. What you feed grows. So I can give myself a break on everything that fell apart before I was diagnosed. After that, whether I like it or not, all the wreakage is at least in part my fault. Either I was too lazy to fight, or wasn't strong enough, or didn't pay attention... but I have a nasty disease that wants to kill me and if I do not keep ever vigilent I lose. Well I have about 9 months. After that the floor collapses. Oh well. For now my blade is drawn and I have some demons to slay.

It is like driving over a spike strip

Aug 28, 2010 - 0 comments
Tags:

depressed

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question

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feel

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TIME



I hate it when I seem to be having a good day and then without notice I plunge into the dark. I have been doing CBT for some time and am fairly aware of my thoughts, whether I catch them or not. So if I have a random thought, like I don't know, "I suck", then I can hear it, and try to correct it or at least stop it. I can understand why that thought would make me upset. I can ask myself if that thought serves any other purpose than to make me upset, and with luck and effort I can stop the train from rolling. But when, tonight for example, I don't have or hear a particular thought, when it is just all of a sudden all bad instead of OK, I feel defeated. There is no thought to question or stop, there is no ground on which I can get purchase. I tumble unfettered into the despair. I HATE THIS.
Oh I guess I could spend time looking over the last half of the day and see if there is a trigger I've missed. But I'm too depressed to spend the effort. I just wanna go curl up and pretend I'm asleep.

Oh well.

Kate's eyes

Aug 22, 2010 - 0 comments
Tags:

kate

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eyes

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Heart

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Women

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feel



I had brekfast today with my brother and his wife at Waffle. Our waitress was a woman named Kate. She was really quite beautiful in a subtle and sleepy way. I had a hard time not staring at her as she took my brother and his wife's orders, something I rarely do... stare I mean. I was captured by her though... there was a familiarity there that made me feel connected to her, and no I am not a stalker... just a man with a poet's heart. When it came to my order, our eyes met.
--- (Let me first say that I never look into anyone's eyes. Never. Because if I were to do so, then they'd be looking into mine, and I don't feel comfortable being seen. No that isn't just because of my low self- esteem, (which says "I don't think... I know I'm unattractive"). It is also because I live in a universe of shame and self-contempt. The less I am seen, the closer I am to not existing at all. If I don't exist, I can't be hurt.)
Anyway our eyes met and instead of quickly looking away, I looked deeply at her. I saw her pupils dilate a little. I held that connection through my entire order. I felt that familiarity more strongly. I knew I didn't know her but I knew her. I wasn't afraid. Then it was over.
There isn't any magic to report. No happy beginnings or endings. If it were another time or place, an earlier version of me might have said something. This version of me never even considered it. I've seen magic. More than my share. It has never treated me well. And I don't believe in happy endings. I only believe that everything ends. So I guess I believe in endings.
Somewhere tonight, Kate is carrying those green eyes around like jewels or magnets and I thank her for letting me look into them, and yeah... for looking back.