Steaming

The teapot is about to whistle violently and so am I.

One Klonopin down this morning and I'm frustrated and tired. I would love to just have one normal day, is that too much to ask? A day where I could wake up and get out of bed without a battle, I could enjoy eating breakfast rather than seeing it as a step to being able to swallow my six morning pills. I wish I had the energy to take a walk, to take a shower without having to force and discipline myself into doing it as if I were a little child. To be able to go out places without being scared something horrible will happen.

I wish I could get out of the mire of our messy house and have things clean for once, not for the sake of being clean, but so we could live comfortably. It seems like I can never get things done. The laundry is never ending, I move the mess from one room to another and don't know what to do with it.

I feel stuck, trapped, like the air is being sucked out of me, in quicksand, falling to the bottom of the sea. Really I've been dealing with this for much too long. Really this is pissing me off.

I go to therapy and we talk about it all. All this dependency, all this fear, all this not-being-allowed-to-say-no-when-you-were-a-kid-so-now-you-are-ruined bullshit. Oh it's so frustrating. How Mother held onto you so tight that you never realized you were an individual, how this has led you into symbiotic relationships with those closest to you, more like leech-y relationships where I take more than I give. Then the fear she fed you in sugar-coated spoon fulls of how evil and dangerous the world is. How all men want is sex and will even rape for it if they have to, how you are not safe, you are not normal, you "being born a woman and distressed". You are a home-schooled girl with no friends and an absolute lack of a teacher or support system.

So I'm angry, frustrated, sinking, dumped out, my parents threw me out like and old piece of garbage-resentfully and with no thought of the consequences. I'm lucky I had support otherwise that could have taken me down to the absolute pit, something I'm sure never once crossed their mind. As I know, and know well, all they see is themselves. I'm trying to get to a place where I can see them and not resent and hate them so much. But God is that hard, maybe one day I will be able to have pity for them. So much of the time I feel like the parent in the situation, trying to understand them, trying to be the grown up in the situation. I hate this because it shouldn't be my job. I am their child, it shouldn't be the other way around.

"To pray for what I thought were angels ended up being ambulances"

My hard time is back with avengence. I wake up in the night in terror and fear of being alone (even though Ronald is right next to me), I cry before bed and almost have a panic attack, I wake up exhausted.

Yesterday was hard. I went to sleep Saturday night horribly sad, and woke up with the same pining sadness. I wouldn't/couldn't smile, I stared off into space and thought those negative mix tape thoughts that always drone in the back of my mind. Can I do this? Can I get through the day? Can I live? Wouldn't hiding in bed be so much easier? Wouldn't it be easier to not exist? I crave it; crave non-existence, crave hiding under the covers in my self-created fort of a cave. But I got up, because I had to get up. Because he was there to remind me to get up.

I tried to get through the day and resolve to be positive. We went on a date, and I had to stay busy to keep the thoughts from taking over. We walked around, I felt indecisive, we saw a movie. I tried to stay awake, I tried to focus on the words and the pictures, it was hard.

We came home and I took a nap and didn't feel the pain just for an hour, I realize more and more that sleeping is the only tangible escape. I woke up and had the blues come back stronger, and the panic creepy creeping like a spider into my mouth and I can see it there and feel it there but no one else can. I know we are going to die, and soon. I feel like I can tell the future. All of this is just a mistake in thinking, just a strange synapse. I took a klonopin, it hardly helped. He rubbed my back and I tried to fall asleep. I finally did and had those dreams I can't talk about and now I'm awake and thinking "can I get through today?"

Monday

Ron went back to work today. His first day back to the office (other than to teach classes) in about three weeks. Its strange being alone, making my own breakfast, not talking in the morning. Its a hard but good thing. Good to get back into real life, good to rely on myself more.

It was a bad/good/bad weekend. Saturday was great. We went to lunch, to read at Starbucks and then to see the movie 9. Sunday was up and down for me. In the morning we went to Home Depot and Ron bought me some flowers to plant in pots in the front yard and a sad little pine tree that needed us. We came home and I pummeled back into the murky depths for the rest of the day. I felt like crying but couldn't cry; it felt horrible. We watched a show about 9/11 and that really messed me up. All evening I was anxious and all night I had nightmares.

Now its Monday and he is gone and I need to get moving in order to tide the emotional lull. I have things to do: rooms to organize, things to spray paint, flowers to plant. But its raining on and off and the dogs are outside getting their paws soaked in it, and it smells so sweet and I feel so distant.

I miss you

Today I'm looking back. I used to be so thin. I used to not be on antidepressants. I used to have energy.

I used to live in an adorable apartment with painted walls, nice floors, and amenities like air conditioning.

I used to wear chucks and be a rock and roll girl. I was messy back then, but not as messy as I am now. Sometimes I wish I could go backwards. I know I idealize the past, but right now, positive or negative, it looks so much better than being in the here and now.

We talked last night about how we need to stay with the family business, about how I don't snuggle him as much anymore, about how aloof and distant I've become. Its scary to see who you are, what you are; a lost girl, an unabiding demon loving hell bound animal, a depressed person.

He made me breakfast in bed this morning and I was shocked to see the pills on my nightstand. I forgot that I swallow those every morning and every night just to feel like this. Just to feel like shit.

at the zoo

I feel like our house is a zoo these days. We have Amelia, Isabelle, and our two cats along with Ron's parents bulldog named Winnifred who we are watching for a few days. Feeding three dogs twice a day takes time; especially when they are picky and need things just so. Its tiring as our Amelia (the lab) has decided to jump on the bed every morning for a fun romp all over me. In other words, I'm exhausted.

Things are turning grey for me again. I'm down for no reason, tired all the time, unmotivated, overwhelmed by the littlest things, and grumpy. I'm consistently waking up cranky like a terrible-two's toddler. Ron has stayed home with me for the past two weeks. I thought he could go back to work this week but now am not so sure. I hope I can get on my feet again soon.

I'm reading a book called Lincoln's Melancholy. It is comforting in a way to read about his struggles and to know that I am not alone. He was so successful in spite of (as the book theorizes) his bouts with major depression. The book is making me think a lot about things which is good.

Now to watching movies and resting with Ronald.

Clementine

Our little house. There are some things I love terribly about it. One being the way the kitchen looks in the afternoon sun. It glows and sparkles (well as much as an unfixed-fixer-upper can sparkle) and is as hot as a steam room.

Things change, they turn and twist around me and suddenly I have energy, suddenly feel less pining-board depressed. But then to figure, ponder and figure, what to do with yourself when you are feeling better. This is the tricky thing. I don't know what I want, I don't know who I am. I feel empty in a new way. I feel mournful for what could have been, for all the time I've lost and will lose because of my black bile demon. I'm scared of when he will leave and when he will come back. In some ways I'm scared of losing him because I don't know how to live without him. I do know, and know very well, how to live as a depressed person. Now to learn to live as a full person. Then to remember that it will come back--and I have to learn to live with that, the fact that I will never be in remission from this curse. There may come a time when it is under control, but never a time when it is gone, when I can truly let my guard down.

Isabelle

Poor Isabelle is so hairy these days you can hardly see her eyes. I am going to call the groomer today and set up an appointment for her to get a trim. She hates the groomer with a passion so its hard to let her go (yes, she is spoiled).

I'm feeling so-so today, up and down at the same time. Ron is home with me so that is definitely a good thing, but I'm still melancholy as hell. I don't quite know what to write about it anymore.

Yesterday I was able to go to therapy, tidy the house, go to Costco with Ron and paint my nails. That is a very successful day for me. My energy is slowly, slowly creeping back which makes me terribly, unbelievably happy. I was so debilitated even last week, I could hardly stand up. I can't wait to start cooking, living, gardening, writing, creating again. I know this will also help some of my depression subside. I guess this morning I have a little hope.

grow up

I feel like my growth has stopped due to my illness. Maybe it is still there, maybe it is smaller than a pin hole, or maybe it is more concentrated and aloof than it used to be. Regardless, I can't shake this feeling of stagnation.

My heart isn't in things anymore. It lurks on the fringes, prim and proper. I am in the darkness, in the gutter next to the crumpled up trash of humanity. It stinks, and I'm still here.

Last night I dreamed about cleaning the house only to wake to the mess around me, a literal and figurative mess. This afternoon I think I will try to tidy away and see how much I can get done.

I'm so relieved it is hath September.

Stay here

Last night was rough. I woke up and alluded my existence to that of a mold, bacteria, or worst of all, a leech. The life is sucked out of me and I'm afraid I suck the life out of those around me with my downtrodden attitude and whispers. I decided in my sleepy-time stupor that there is no reason for me to be here anymore. I cried and cried--Ronald woke up. He held and read to me until I fell back to sleep.

This morning I feel wasted, once again used up like an old peeled sponge. I wait for him to come home--I hold on. I wait for the pills to work--I hold on. The demon looks me straight in the eye, and I hold on. To stay in the center, away from any jagged edges. That is the death defying challenge.

derby

Maker's Mark Mint Julep is going to be the death of me. It is so yummy and reminds me of The Great Gatsby. Today we are going to muddle berries into it and create our own version of a bourbon cobbler.

Ron is over at his parents house helping with yard work and I am home with my little nuzzling cold. Its no fun being sick on a Saturday. Its no fun being sick and depressed at the same time.

I feel like I'm somewhere I don't want to be. Wandered and trapped in this scathing disease. I'm lost and lonely and all I can think of is how my head is pounding. My heart is fumbled, silica, I am amongst the glass works--fragile and fibrillated.

lullaby

Here is our new clock. I absolutely adore it and think it will look marvelous on our blue green walls in the living room. Now just to hang it...

I think I am getting a cold. I feel like it never ends for me. I start feeling a little better then get food poisoning, I feel better from that then a cold. Sometimes I wonder if God is up there laughing at me. I will just lay down on my chaise with my soft ivory blanket with the blue coral and rest. But I'm tired of resting. So tired of it in fact.

I am reading Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression. Its stunning and personal, makes me feel less alone. To know someone else is tired of making breakfast every day. Someone else can't keep a gun in the house because they don't trust themselves. Someone else has developed precise checks and balances in their mind in order to stay on earth. One poem in the book that hits me hard:

When I was born, you waited
behind a pile of linen in the nursery,
and when we were alone, you lay down
on top of me, pressing
the bile of desolation into every pore,

And from that day on
everything under the sun and moon
made me sad-

My doctor and I have tracked (as well as we could) my depression to when it started, and it seems to have began around the time I was four or five. To look back at myself in a motherly way and see that sadness, that despair, breaks my heart. I wish I could go back and remind that little girl that she was not alone and to insist to her mother that she needs help. I wish I could go back and maybe stop some of this hell that I am mired in.

fern-ish

These are pictures I took from my sick bed. I'm tired of resting. I lay on the chaise with blankets and my most comforting pillow and sleep; sleep for hours and hours. I wake for a quick lunch and see part of a show and then back to sleep. I take at least two naps a day followed by a full nights sleep. I feel like a sick swaddled baby.

Its hard because part of my living in bed is due to my I-can't-even-describe-it lack of energy but its also due to depression. I don't see the point in doing anything; I don't have the desire to do anything; I don't have the energy to do anything. I used to love going out, doing crafts, cooking, going to the market for fresh flowers and vegetables. Now I can't seem to even get out of bed, to shower, to stand up.

Today I'm going to try to do something with Ron's help. Maybe go out, or tidy some of the mess in the house, or scrapbook. Its daunting to think of doing anything but I need to try hard, to put all my dwindling strength into it.

Why I need a nanny

I need a nanny. A nanny to wake me up, make me breakfast, clean the house, help me dress, brush my hair, and take care of the dogs. These things are nearly impossible for me to do right now. I imagine my nanny a large sweet kind woman in vintage garb (she has to somehow be transported from 1901), she is gentle and pleasant to talk to and gives me good advice.

Above are my two sick beds, our bed and the chaise in the living room. I hate these places, they remind me too much of being sick. I love my art room, but wish I had the energy and ability to spend time in it, tidy up and create.

Its so hard being this depressed and having no energy to distract myself with other things. Instead I live in mess and clutter, I can't even take care of myself. This makes things so much worse. Its hard to describe how debilitated I am right now, I'm good at hiding how much this bothers me, I'm good at pulling myself together when I have to and hiding how hard it is to shower, dress, get made up--how this takes all my energy.

I'm alone for a few hours this morning and it is hard and I'm lonesome. I'm glad I miss him so much when he is gone. He is utterly amazing; working and going to school and caring for me. I don't know how he does it.

but its over

Last night was hard. Everything felt lost. We couldn't sleep, Ron forgot to do his homework until 10:30, I kept crying and was moody. I'm sure the glass of wine, cherry bourbon and coke and mint julep didn't help. Its hard not to crave the momentary rush of alcohol.

This morning I feel weak, tired, sore from yard work. Here and not here. We are living, but I don't feel alive. I have to do things like feed the dogs, shower, dress and put on makeup. These things seem so utterly worthless to me. There is a huge disconnect between me and everyday life. I don't see the point in it. The point in waking up every single morning, of making breakfast, of doing the same mindless muddled tasks. I know this is all depression talk, but god it feels so real sometimes. So close and cunning. It breathes hotly down my neck with its stale breath.

Good things:

Ronald
Movies
Mrs. Dalloway
My leather journal
Amelia deciding she is allowed to sleep in the bed
Emails

Bad things:

Side effects
Dust bunnies
Messy kitchen
Depression
Laundry
A messy dank soul

shadow

I am a ghost of my previous self. Changed and ravaged by the demon, my demon, the lust filled blood sucking creature that makes his bed with me. I fight him, try to keep him away, but he stutters and barges his way in like a stealthy abuser. Oh depression, how easy and hard you are to describe.

I used to feel young, free and easy, awakened, creative, palpable, alive. Now I feel like the walking dead. Numb, used up, listless, shattered. I live, I beat I buy an orchid at the market. But really I am not there, I have escaped only to find myself in the dungeon.

Writing installment number 3:

----
You are rotting inside out like a crab, a seahorse. Soon all that will be left is skeleton, mollusk shell, a kidney. When you go you are taking your heart with you.
----

me

This is me and I'm doing rotten. Ron is staying home with me as much as he can outside of teaching classes. Next week is really busy for him so I at least have a few days with the best someone by my side to help me get through the days.

I met with my doctor yesterday and cried and sobbed about how horrible I'm doing. We talked about all our options and we came up with some ideas. First, we are trying a new anti-depressant. If that doesn't work we are thinking of taking me off all my medication and starting over. Its all a bit frightening really. And all I can think of is how much my head hurts, how sad I am, how lonely it feels to be trapped in this cave.

I have ten minute bits of energy. Where I can perhaps take a shower, perhaps do the dishes, make a small dinner, put the dogs outside. I can do about two energy requiring things per day. This is the least amount of energy I've ever had. I'm starting to lose my will to do anything.

"Andy the doctors prescribed me the pills, I know I'm not crazy, I've just lost my will. So why am I, why am I taking them still?" -Jacks Mannequin

Natural

Yesterday Ron and I spent a lot of time in the backyard. Here are some of my findings. Ferns, Bottle brush, shiny and furry leaves. I love the color and textures of them all, so tactile and tangible.

Today I'm meeting with my doctor. I want to find a way to describe how I'm feeling. I think no matter how hard I try to explain it, my answer will still be "wait". I don't blame him for saying it. I think we have to wait to see if this medicine will work, otherwise this whole trial would have been for nothing, but the process is so hard.

I'm keeping my chin up but I can't help but feel this seeking, sullen desperation. This creeping feeling that I can't move on, can't get past this boulder in my path. I hold on, I hold on, I hold on.

poppy seed

Writing installment number two

----
At once knowing this is what you have, this is who you are. This is your lot so smile. I have tattoos, I have all these girly things that make me appear normal. I wear earrings, shoes, a wedding ring. But really, what do I have? An empty heartless soul.

All the little sundries that fill up a world, a life, a lack thereof.
----

weary

I'm very tired this weekend. Its frustrating dealing with a ton of side effects while the medicine seems to not be helping me feel any better. I have a never ending headache. I'm sick of waiting and waiting for medicine to work. I've been waiting for almost three months to see if this Lamictal will work and it doesn't seem to be doing anything. I am on 200 milligrams and we can go up to 400, but we have to raise it in 50 milligram increments every two weeks. So I can possibly be waiting about two more months to see if this medicine is right for me. Its beyond frustrating when I am depressed and feeling miserable physically, mentally and emotionally. I am at an utter loss for words trying to describe it. It feels like I am in a noose and it is tightening.

I'm trying to think of the positive, to keep my mind off how bad it is, to stay distracted with other things, but its almost impossible to really forget and get lost in something else while I am feeling like shit. I feel like I could cry for weeks and still not express how miserable I am right now. I know I need to take things one day, one moment at a time and keep my chin up, but God is this harder than I ever imagined it could be. I never knew you could go through so much pain without dying. Sometimes I feel like God's little experiment.

Wish me luck and pray for me please.

Night falls softly

I'm back in the saddle after two days off. My old blog had to be set aside as there were too many people I knew reading it. Now I have only a select few reading (so you should feel rather special). It feels much better just to allow my real thoughts to go to a handful of people but mostly to let them float out to the gods of cyberspace. I'm not going to start new and explain my whole story, I'm just going to start from where I left off.

Today the doctor raised my Lamictal to 200 mg. He said Lamictal acts like a rubber band. It pulls you up from the bottom (depression) but keeps you from swinging up to the top (mania). I'm in it though; in the depression. Lulling and wading in the muddy pit of it looking for something to hold onto, something to pull me out. There is nothing yet.

I have a very scarce amount of energy. Just enough to wake up, get out of bed, maybe shower and take care of the dogs. Everything else feels like extra credit. Its really exciting when I can do something other than the basics like make brownies, or go out.

This afternoon I worked on my scrapbook. I will post pictures of it tomorrow. I love it because I am just saying and pasting what I want, what I like. Sometimes its hard to do that. But I did it today and am happy.