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.

autumnal

Its the first day of Autumn and I wore my acorn earrings to celebrate. But its 100 degrees outside as Summer is trying to hang on with all her might. I want her to let go and let me wear a sweater.

The dogs are playing, Ronald is doing homework and I'm here in my pajamas at five in the evening. Things are so simple, good, close, rotten all at the same time. I feel sort of blank these days, like a big ugly lump of clay.

Therapy has been hard. I've been coming to a lot of serious conclusions about myself and am trying to do better and get better. It seems like my depression is replaced by a seething creepy anxiety that beats and beats inside me. I'm terrified of earthquakes and wake in the night in anxious anticipation. Driving is scary to me, I get flashes of gruesome scenes in my head whenever I'm in a car whether I'm driving or not. I try to be strong and go places in spite of it but its starting to get debilitating.

Ronald and I talked about how it seems like I jump from negative to negative. From depression to melancholy, from melancholy to anxiety, I never let myself just be okay with how things are; I always anticipate the worst. I know there are chemical things going on too but there is also a very well worn rut in the road that I continue to follow. I believe I'm cursed--that I am not meant to live a happy life; so whenever I get close to being happy I hold back, panic, lull and hide. Its a bad wrecking ball sort of habit.

baby

I never think about having kids. I used to--before I was sick, before I entered my cave with the little welcome mat. I said we would in five years and every year I say that. Keeping the thought at a distance. I do this because I doubt it could ever happen. I doubt I will be a good mother. I doubt that my illness will allow me to be present with my children. I don't want to give them a sub-par life, and I feel sub-par so why would I ever think of having children?

Yesterday I met with my Dr. (affectionately known as Dr. K) He said that I seem to use my depression as an excuse to never have children. I told him about how I feel like something is missing in my life, how I doubt it will ever be full and he reluctantly said that children may be whats missing. I told him I would think about it.

After talking to Ron and thinking about it all night, I think that may be part of whats missing. I think my "hole" has many facets; things are missing. Children are a facet, confidence is a facet, I hate to say it but God is a facet. I need to work on filling these parts up and finding the missing pieces like a little puzzle and putting myself back together.

Now I will allow myself to think of having kids. I will get excited about it, look forward to it and not use depression as my handy excuse.

bottle brush

Therapy, grocery shopping, and lunch leave Catherine a tired girl. I want to try to clean but will have to find a little cavern of hidden energy in order to do so. I did buy some flowers for the coffee table at least.

In therapy we talked about how I am fake around people because I am afraid they can't handle me and my opinions. I am afraid that if I show who I really am I will be abandoned. This inauthenticity leaves me feeling depressed, unknown and different. I have to set out on a slow path to honesty, goodness, and Catherinedom. I like to make my name an empire, a philosophy, a religion.

My antidepressant is being raised by 50 milligrams and the doctor claimed that this should take me from teetering between depression and melancholy to being in the melancholy realm or better. I hope better. Hope me better, hope me well, hope me, hope me out of hell. Yes I made a little rhyme...

Now to resting, now to finding the doldrum monster budding energy creator and fall in worship of him in order to get moving.

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.