Right now I am split into two people: one us a director professional person and one is having a crazy panic attack. Shit. I really hate when this happens. I put on my fake happy face and please everyone while the inside is crawled up in a ball, on fire, in the dark, etc etc.
I hate being in authentic but I really hate people knowing I am just terrified of all that’s around me. Perhaps a walk will help.
Ok, face on, now into the world.
I started journaling about 30 years ago. Writing has worked me thorough the hard times. Not to be over dramatic, but, sometimes its what got me to the sunlight the next day. Often, I felt if I just could see the sun then I would be ok until night came again.
I never journal in the good times. I always write when things are going down or when I need to distract my over active mind from the doom it creates around itself.
The last couple days have been crazy ups and downs. I am on some new med and its weird. Thats not fair. Its weird to me and probably a Godsend to others. I am used to only two emotions: crushing depression or nothing. The depression is usually backed by a mind running 1000 mi/h and working out every possibility and future focusing on the bad and discarding the good. Which, strangely, has made me really good in business.
Anyway, its been up and down for days. SUCKS. I am not used to all these emotions. Things like sadness, pride, intense empathy, or just simple happiness has not been in my world in so long that they are almost unwelcomed strangers.
Its not just a lyric from the Dream Academy, but, also how I have felt all day. I woke up this morning real early and have traveled 100’s of miles with my dad. We have a festival that we have attended together for just over 40 yrs. Wow. Its weird, too. Sometimes, when we make this trip I feel like a kid again. I think it a situation where we both get to relive the past for a little while. Quite fun actually. But it starts early with travel and seems to be the morning all the way till the trip home.
All day was great, but, now I am home and moments of depression have set in here and there. Depression feelings are kind of like the wind at the beach: its still then blows then less then more then still then hard then less then still, and so on.
I know that I have done this before. Its the same cycle that I start every day and I claim gives me purpose. I get up, get ready, eat, and start the day strong. However, my job is awful, my purpose for working makes no sense. The amount of effort I need to keep this cycle keeps growing and growing and I quite expect it to consume me at some point. I lust after other jobs or working for myself, but, I get up -get dressed- and march off to another mans battle.
Lust is a strange thing. At first many may argue that lust is a physical thing. However, I think its mostly a mental exercise in, “what could be.” Possibilities are as alluring as food or sex. The possibility that tomorrow I could wake up and be the master for my fate. Be waking down a path I construct that represents me. I could go to sleep knowing those who looked upon me saw me for myself and my struggle.
I will get up and go to another place and do another thing that is not related to who I am or what I want to do. Oh, it started that way but I have moved through the ranks and now I cant even see that place where I once stood. In fact, I cant even see a place to stand that remotely looks right for me.
There are two other tiny factors that tarnishes the shine off the lust: depression and family. I am now, almost two years into medication, still trying to get level. I am not what you would call regulated by any means. Many days, its like I walk around with weights on my feet and heavy chains around my neck. Just getting through the day is a triumph and its only as far in the future as I can see.
Family is another point. My family job is to be a good provider. Oh, at all costs. I will let my current job kill me just to keep the gravy flowing. I am no good to anyone trying to follow my dreams.
Last night I stayed up until crazy late. That allowed me to not get the panic attack or whatever until morning. This morning my brain woke up at 1000 mph. I was writing poetry, planning on sculpture, planning my week, worrying about a plethora of things, etc.
All day I have been frustrated. No matter what I do to help people I get spanked. After a little distance and coffee, I feel much better. Perhaps a nap will help.
Howdy web patron! The weather report is hot tonight. I am having all kinds of crazy hot flashes. Almost 100% of the time that means late night panic attacks. Not sure why but, the night time hot flash seems to be the precursor to the event. I am going to stay up as late as I can hoping to push the attack as close to morning as possible. That way I wont loose as much sleep. I may be crazy but I’m not crazy. Wait, that does not make sense. You know what I mean.
Anyway, sometimes the anticipation is worse than the event. And sometimes not. Like now.
Because of physically where my job is located, I get to see lots of people in a transitional part of their lives. Occasionally, one will “come out” as homosexual/bi/etc and the community will get a little rocked. I have to admit that I admire the courage to endure the pain of changing the perception everyone has of you. Those people have to accept the slings and arrows of others trying to reconcile what they thought was truth with what you have told them is truth.
In the south its similar (but defiantly not the same) to coming out as having a mental issue. People around you don’t know how to behave, they don’t 100% know they wont catch it, your whole family gets stigmatized, and somehow you are just not the same person to them anymore. Its weird. You know someone all your life then you become a kind of intimate stranger to them. They watch you like you are going to go all serial-killer on them with your mental illness but actually you are feeling sad for no real reason and you know at 2:30am you have an appointment with a panic attack. Not really serial killer stuff. They want to give you a safe distance but what would really help is a hug.
So, I spend most of the time in my mental health closet. I have told two people I have problems. One I am married to and one is an acquaintance who is open about her struggle. I was hoping that coming out to her would let some of her strength rub off on me. However, not so the case and back into the crazy cupboard I go.
I am sure if I was more open I would be in a better place but thats tons of years from now. tons.
Hi web traveler! Today I am depressed. Depression is really hard to spot in other people. It looks like happiness, or humor, or general pleasantness. But really its a wobbly bag of tears that feels like its going to explode at any minute.
Thats where I am at this moment. Everyone around me thinks things are fine, however, I am just about to explode in ocean of tears. There are moments where it does not even seem like me who is sad but me watching someone play me who is sad. Those are the moments that I really hate because I don’t feel part of the world. Kind of isolated. I blame that on drugs, but, there ya go.
I am sitting on the deck, drinking a beer, and listening to the Grateful Dead. Why? Because to others it looks like I am acting normal. Really, I just want to be in the dark nestled between the sheets.
However, I have never retreated to the bed, I have not cried in over a decade, and now I feel like I am going full thermonuclear.
Its weird. Every Sunday feels similar, more or less. Today is more, much the effing more. I wish I could explode. I think that would be amazingly purging. I used explode about once a year, usually in the winter. I would just breakdown and cry uncontrollably until I fell asleep. (My poor girlfriend at the time had to put up with a lot. I have always admired her for being there for me when things fell in. ) The next day was like a new fresh start. Amazing. Wonderful, in a way. I was a clean slate and ready for a whole year of ups and downs.
However, the purging has not happened in over 20 years. Shit. I think there is so much crap stuffed up in there that I am used to it. I am so stuffed full of cortisol and stress I plan to I worry it will just kill me before I ever learn to handle it. Sometimes, I actually think that its my destiny to just let the stress and such kill me. I hope it doesn’t but there ya go.
Man I am rambley tonight.
Sometimes the magic just breaks down. I’ll go a day or two feeling…weird. Right this minute I am nervous and easily irritated. Its fine as long as a panic attack does not break out. Those things make me feel awful. In fact, they are the worst feeling I have ever had.
So, the other day it was just like a 24hr virus. I had 24 hrs of just intense depression and it was gone. It came out of no where and it left with no sign. It was amazing.
I have back down the medication about a month ago because taking more was not helping more. So, I always feel like I am just on the line or just under the being regulated line. occasionally, I have bouts that come, hang around a day or two and then leave. There.