Daily Archives: 2014/09/08

Dodging Suicide

Up until that moment (of being dumped by colonoscopy guy) today wasn’t all that bad. I actually got a little painting done on a piece I started two months ago. I wrote out a check and caught up on some school and personal paper work. Then I got the text and, even though I didn’t really like the guy that much, it just hit me kinda hard.

When, on our date, he tried kissing me I know he had to feel my indifference. I didn’t give him anything at all in that kiss. Why would he waste any more time on me?

Why would I waste time on him? Because I’ve always gone with guys I feel sparks with and it always ends badly. So I figured if I gave someone I felt no sparks for but seemed like a really nice guy maybe the end would be different.

But I’m on my couch all alone again with no dates in the near future. This was so much more fun six years ago when I first left my ex husband. Now dating feels more like a chore and I remind myself of the women I felt sorry for back then. The ones that gave up; who told me men our age are just too damaged and it’s so hard to find a good one. I want to be the person I was six years ago. I want to be positive my life is better being alone than feeling alone while married. I want to be the person who believed I wouldn’t be alone for long. I want to have fun doing this again. I want to just have fun.

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A Frequent Sadness – But Why Would Anyone Want to be That?

Or at least to make them feel like how I felt I had been treated. So they would lose what I had lost, and see what it felt like to be the weakling. And then maybe they’d stop hurting me. For good. Oh, I ached so badly with wanting to wreck revenge on anyone who even looked like they were going to bully me.

I wanted to be the villain who blended perfectly into the crowd – whom nobody noticed because they were average: lived an average life, had an average house, complete with average spouse, children, dog and car. Heck, sometimes the villain even passed off as a goodie in law enforcement. It wasn’t always so obvious that the villain was someone who had been ugly or stupid or whatever that made them ostracised in the past. And every death, every crime would come out of the blue, and nobody would ever catch them. Ever. . .

I wanted the feeling of triumph through revenge without any consequences. I wanted to be labeled a psychopath. When people were shocked at the revelations of my violent ideas, I was pleased. I wanted to be the villain. But WHY?


Because of power. I didn’t want to be weak anymore. I didn’t want to go on thinking that I was useless. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was better than they thought I was. Since nobody seemed to think that highly of me anyway, why not go the whole way, but in the way that I preferred?

It’s so easy to blame Tony Stark for Killian’s turn to villainy, or to blame my parents and/or family for my morbid thoughts… thoughts and ideas that I feel still define me in ways today (albeit decreasing, which is good). But. These events are due in part to my feeling that I didn’t have a choice. Whether I was truly trapped by external forces, or trapped by my own thoughts – I felt I had no choice, and no strength or power. And then we use what is within our grasp – what we have learned from others, or what we know might hurt them the most, to try and turn the tables. . .

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The Elephant in the Room

I know people mean well, but I have said before that I’m just not good with pity, I just don’t really know how to react to it. But that’s not the sole reason I don’t talk about my depression. One of the biggest things I always worry about is that If I tell someone how I feel they will think I am trying to bring them down, and that is not what I’m trying to do. I realise I’m not the most positive person in the world, I never really have been. But that’s just me. I like to think that I don’t just talk about my depression. I try to make jokes, I try to make everyone else happy. Sometimes I’m so busy making everyone else happy I forget about myself, but that’s another piece for another day. . .

I’m not trying to guilt trip anyone by telling them I’m depressed, and that’s another thing I worry about as I realise that one day I may have to tell my parents about this. Because instead of being sympathetic, they would blame themselves and that is not what I’m trying to make someone do. I know that how I feel is not the fault of anyone in particular, people contribute to my good and bad feelings but overall this is just me. But I’m also not asking to be fixed, personally I don’t think I am fixable. And maybe I don’t want to be “fixed” It’s not that easy to undo 10 years of my brains constant domineering.

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A Frequent Sadness – Can Someone Please Explain this to Me?

For a few months now (or at least since I’ve been through CBT), I’ve been feeling pretty OK.

And in that time I’ve been feeling a bit of a fraud.

I don’t get it. Perhaps someone can explain this to me?

I’m not ungrateful for feeling better – but it’s not really what I expected. I can still remember sitting in my doctor’s office (psychiatrist) and telling her that I felt like it wasn’t going to end. That was probably about 9 months ago. In a way, I almost can’t believe that it has happened – despite trusting my psychiatrist and going ahead with all that she suggested, working hard on my sleep schedule, avoiding things that stressed me out.

And yet. . .

As I recover, I am changing – I knew that I was going to come out of this whole experience a different person. I just didn’t know how much. Not so much that my personality was unrecognisable, but enough to change unhelpful habits and distorted thoughts into more mature coping mechanisms.

Right now, I feel pretty strange. I almost feel like I want to go back to being depressed. When I read the blogs written by fellow sufferers, I identify with them, and yet, since I almost do not feel depressed anymore, nor do I exhibit explicit symptoms of depression… I feel like a fraud. I feel like I’ve made up my own experience – because I am no longer experiencing it. I’m trying to tell myself that it such thoughts are invalid. Why would a happy, sane, human being make up miserable memories? I’m weird, but not that weird. (That’s me trying to use CBT by the way!). . .

Furthermore, I have realised this (this is what hit me): That as I recover and learn how to cope, the feelings of being sad and angry will start to fade. BUT it doesn’t mean that these feelings are automatically replaced with happiness. Often, these feelings are replaced with nothing. Why? Because learning how to cope, and learning how to be happy again are not always the same thing. It seems pretty obvious, but not always. Because when you are in a desperate situation, you are probably more likely to believe that everything will be better, if only this desperate situation were to be resolved. Except that is a convenient lie that you believe to keep yourself going forward. Believing that things will get better in itself is no bad thing, and it is not false. What is false is the belief of immediate relief, and the assumption that you will know what to do with yourself with all this is over.

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Take from me that
Which is not yours to take
Give me something I did not ask for
Something so very fake

The things ahead are much different now
Different from what they could have been
This life I live is painful and mutilated
When it could have been joyful and beautiful

Here I lay dazed and confused
As I reminisce the possibilities
All that could have been different
At the signature of my days. . .

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