Tag: depression

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A Basket Case Study

Maybe trying to use myself as a case study is in itself a symptom of PTSD, but since I consider myself a bit whacked, why not? 

The trouble I’m going to have is looking backwards, and trying to move forward at the same time.  I have to make sure I don’t trip too many times anyway.  It’s not quite like going blindly forward, which I have done more than once in my drunken days.  Wonder I can still see at all.

Why even look back, let sleeping dogs lie and move on?   That’s the issue, I can’t. 

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Ray Bradbury quote on Sadness

“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

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Depression

I see a way forward. 

Hopefully a way out of this 5 week trip downward, actually a trip to the bottom.  I can’t remember a time when sadness had such a stranglehold on me.

But the way forward is to continue with my project of detailing my life and thoughts on mental illness, therapy and treatments.  And my thoughts on being a Queer individual.   Just plain different.

A Tree in Winter.  My original thoughts on the blog, my loneliness and fear of surviving another cold winter.  Where the weather sucks even more life out of me.  Long stretches without the sun.

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Putting My Queer Journey on Paper, a Leap of…

So it’s Fall and it’s decision time whether or not I’m going to go ahead with this blog.

It’s not that I don’t have the time to write every day, it’s simply a matter of am I gonna stick it out or not. The subject matter is difficult and not 100% pleasant to talk about. It’s going to take a lot of time just to get it set up. A little money, but not a lot so that’s not an issue.

The trouble is, with the mental illness I’m suffering from I seem to put the things that I really love to do aside and don’t just do them anymore. 

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Sliding down

I find the slide downward to be too easy.

I compare fighting depression to the struggles of a poor ant that stumbles into an ant lion trap.

The ant lion is a small little larva of the damsel fly.  It’s jaws of death two long pincers that serve 2 purposes; one to make the trap, one to kill it’s victim.  Death awaits below, if you hit bottom.

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Depression

I really need to find that handhold to pull myself back up. 

Do I seriously believe a journal that should have started 67 years ago will help me to understand why I am at this place in my life?

Maybe.

Maybe it will all make sense and I can leave it lay.

I will say that the course I took was far from “normal” but who ever is?

I need to keep in mind my “oneness“ and being a unique individual there was only one path, and actually lived perfectly.

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Chronic pain

This pain is very real.  This anguish is near unbearable.

I‘m losing this war,  where the pleasures in life are short lived, and so few and far apart it’s like they don’t exist.

I’m in mourning.  It’s like when I’ve lost someone that has become a part of me is torn away.  My brother, my mother, my best friend,

and now myself.

I quietly reach out for help, but no one is there.

For the last seven days I’ve awoken crying. Upon opening my eyes they immediately fill with tears.

Am I crying because I know what the day will bring?

Or crying for all those days past? 

I am screaming out but no one hears.

Or they hear but don’t listen.

This needs to end

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