sleep isn’t coming easy in this exhausted restless place. the steady fog continues interrupted only by sound. any sound. even the slightest hum from the appliances is too much. I spent the later part of the evening wearing headphones just to block the sounds. I slept an hour only to be awoken by something and now sleep just won’t return.
forming and spelling words is too difficult but I wanted to write something to try and put words on this. i’m failing at that.
I don’t know what is the matter with me. this isn’t my mind. this isn;t me. i don’t understand this and I’m afraid. i’m sure that sounds stupid and it prob is.
Wish I could say today was better. It is not. The floor has fallen away and I am clinging hard to the meager ledge I am teetering on. The irritability has transitioned into sadness. As I sat in session thinking about life and how many times I have been in this precise situation it struck me that it never becomes easier. It doesn’t lose its power or the totality of its reach. I don’t automatically sort it into the familiar pile the way you would say with a recurrent injury. after the 5th or 6th foot bruise it is pretty immediate to just shelf it in the been there/ done that category. ok, just another metatarsal bruise. Less running, more padding. Maybe a bit more time on the bike and less on the pavement. But it is an immediate reaction or shall I say non reaction. To brush it aside and move on. To be annoyed at the restriction and sure the pain, but to still keep it very clearly in perspective. This head space isn’t like that. Even if I tell myself You are Depressed. Yep, not exactly breaking news. Even if I tell myself You Have Been Here Before it doesn’t lessen it. The fear and the pain remain unchanged. The wearing away of my ability to cope continues unabated. In this searing silent place I lose the ability to look forward. I see no possibilities, no progress. It is as if time has been paused here in terms of emotional experience and pain yet the world continues on at break neck speed. The chasm between the two extraordinary. So vast and so broad I cannot see across. I see only the distance from everyone and everything around me. I feel the pale grey isolation. Touch the sandpaper rasp of disillusion and fear. Taste the bile sour regret at once again finding myself trapped in this awful place. It is at once alien and familiar. It holds me here as I force myself to hope tomorrow is better though utterly convinced there is no tomorrow to hope for.
Life continues much the same as it has for months yet somehow my brain sees it and reacts to it differently. gone is the ability to shuffle along and pretend nothing is wrong. I have lost that bright clear vision I had a few weeks back. the one that comes with a side order of optimism, even if it is just a child size portion. what I am left with now is an unsettled certainty that I am speeding toward disaster. Everything around me is moving toward this end. I sense the impending doom and my anxiety grates hard and constant in my temples. Transfixed I stand stock still watching unable and or unwilling to find another course. I accept. Why I do I have no earthly idea. It has been, forever, okay to lose- to fail, to give up. To walk away and chose not to fight. When did that become normal? It doesn’t much matter as I do not feel like this is salvageable anymore. I don’t feel alright. Nothing about my life and my head is remotely alright. Today I teetered on the edge of meltdown. Into anger. into sadness. into despair. I fought to keep myself removed and not fall into any of them. But I could not disconnect. Instead I am in this unsteady charged state. Waiting for the slightest shift to topple me. I am not even close to coping- anything additional would be too much.
I do not know why I have fallen so deeply into this place of questions and dread. I am not even sure what this place is. It isn’t just depression. This is an anxious irritable angry place. I fight hard to keep from lashing out (though fail repeatedly). The simplest of issues become white-hot with rage. The traffic. the 700th time the fucking post woman leaves a slip in the mailbox instead of the package behind the gate. the diesel can tipping over an spilling all over the bed of the truck. Rather that remain small stupid shit they ramp up into all the other chaos that lives in my head right now. Foreclosure=diesel spilling. Not even close in reality yet they fight neck and neck in terms of emotional response within my skull. How is that even remotely okay. The instant exaggerated response to everything tries my ability to remain in control. When I lash out I just feel worse about myself. I don’t feel a decrease in anger. If anything I feel the desire to push that point. Stand out there on the edge and let rage stay for a while. Let everyone and anything in my path feel the sheer scope and severity of the problem.
I feel manipulated. Maybe I’m just paranoid at this point. I have no facts, yet I remain steadfast in my conviction I’m being pushed. I get lost for long stretches within these strange thoughts. I know Virgil. I know her. How cruel my mind tells me otherwise. How sad. I fight the desire to walk away. Leave all the meds behind. To rail and rage against this existence. You see it is when changes happen that the slavery becomes so evident. The power of these chemicals over my mind, thoughts, feelings, sleep and hunger. It is all-encompassing. A few days without sleep and my world shifts on its axis. No better demonstration of just how much I need them. I could not leave them behind. or could I? It would be hellish but maybe I’d survive. That isn’t reality. I would fall off the cliff and only be reminded of just how chained to this poison I really am.
I wish I knew why life had to be like this. I wish I understood what was going on within my head so that I could talk some sense into myself. Sad thing is I don’t know if there is any sense left up there.
Unsettled mood continues wrapped in a sodden blanket of apathy. I have felt little to no urge to write this past week. There seems a clear ebb and flow here with the blog just as there is in life. I find my best clarity and writing tends to come on the heels of a lull. This may well be one of those times. I’ll let it be for now.
My mind feels heavy and sluggish. I know I don’t like the way I feel, not in mind or body. Nothing feels like me right now. Running is almost pointless. biking isn’t far behind. I am a foreigner on domestic soil. I know I need to do more. I can’t get behind like this, not right from the beginning. I have to burn enough to offset the insane hunger. I’m not and I’m behind. It scares me. my skin crawls. I dream in pounds by the hundreds. Nightmares wake me in pools of cold sweat and tangles of sheets. I can’t control this.
I could linger on it. I could rage against it. I could get angry and frustrated. I’m not. I’m anxious, tired and lethargic. Far too much so to even resist.
I cannot even put the words together. this is pointless.