Archive for the ‘Depression’ Category

Where do I go from here?

I’m creatively constipated. I can’t even write privately these days. I have ideas floating through my head, but as soon as I try to actually put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, I freeze.

Just sitting here typing this at the library of the university my friend is attending, waiting for her to finish class, so we can go walk her doggies, I’m tearing up. I haven’t even been able to read what others have written, when it used to be one of my favourite ways to spend time with myself.

I have always loved writing. I started using LiveJournal back in about 2001, and have had a blog since then. Prior to that, I wrote stupid short stories and other random pieces for myself. I’m not lacking in encouragement from outside sources; several people have told me I should start writing again. What I’m lacking is the confidence in myself as a writer that I had for so long.

I feel so much shame and anger in myself, it’s hard to admit. I find it embarrassing that I am usually such a vocal supporter of mental health, and am having trouble admitting that I have actually been presented with two new potential diagnoses. I am still unable to present those right now, for reasons I hope to explain later.

So, where does this leave me? How do I get over this crippling fear I have of opening myself up again?


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There haven’t been many people I’ve ever hated, but consistently I’ve hated myself, to different degrees. Rarely ever have I hated myself as much as I do currently, to the point that I have multiple daily thoughts of disappearing. Erasing myself. Ceasing to exist. Killing myself.

I haven’t tried to kill myself because I don’t want my friends and family to have to deal with that (even though sweet release is so tempting). I don’t ever want them to have to deal with an attempted (or successful) suicide again, but I am at rock bottom. I am past the bare earth and am clawing at bedrock, tearing my nails and screaming with pain.

I have a mental health assessment appointment scheduled to confirm my major depression diagnosis (I think I might be bipolar, but obviously I shouldn’t use Dr. Google to confirm), to reevaluate my medication, and to find some therapy options. The appointment was originally scheduled for mid-April, and then was moved forward to this past week, and then the day of, it was postponed because the intake counsellor was sick. Less than two more weeks, which feels like a lifetime, until the rescheduled appointment now.

I have this fucking cycle going on where I start missing the stupid Pirate, blame myself for ruining things and not going to counselling when things were getting bad in all areas of my life a year ago, and then hating myself even more for getting upset over a fucking breakup that happened more than half a year ago. Then I get mad that it’s been so long and I’m still grieving him and hate myself EVEN more for being a drag on my friends and family. I don’t want my nephew’s first memories of me to always be me crying.

In my mind, I am fully aware that just because I thought he was my forever and that we were partners who would work through everything together and that I’d liked him since I met him at 15, doesn’t mean he felt the same. Things change, people change, feelings change. I was desperately unhappy living in Vancouver. I know I’ll never be able to afford a house there, there are too many people, I hated my job, I was drinking and smoking too much pot, and on and on. I wanted a baby with him so badly, but could never explain it properly. I wanted everything with him.

I feel like I’m a failure. I hate looking in the mirror. I hate having to get out of bed in the mornings. I hate having to talk to people every day, to fake my way through another day. I hate that so much of my hurting is caused by one person’s feelings for me, and it hurts so much that I am so weak and pathetic. I hate me and being me and the fact I was ever born in the first place. I have cancelled my travelling plans because I’m so unstable. I know that things will get better, that I’ll get past this, that I am just going through a down time, that my medication will get adjusted, that I will eventually date again, but all I can think about is how I don’t belong anywhere and have no home. That I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. That I am unloved and unloveable. That I will never be satisfied and happy. That I’m going to forever blame myself and forever regret losing him. That I will forever hurt and forever hate myself.

I don’t know how I can continue living even for a few more weeks like this, let alone decades. But, I will try, even if it means just taking life one fucking painful moment after another.

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I’m feeling low.

Low in energy, low in sleep, low in joy, low in enthusiasm, low, low, LOW. Near the bottom low.

I started the new year with good intentions, and have so far managed to pretty much stick to them. I’m not writing as much as I wanted to be though. 

I’ve not been proactive enough in dealing with my depression the last year and a half or so. I know that. I need help, and I can’t keep putting it off and I can’t keep avoiding it. I don’t have benefits right now, since I’ve only got a temporary position with the city, which means I’m paying out of pocket for my treatment. My pills are already really expensive, now I’ll be adding the cost of a counselor and probably a gym pass on top of that.

I want so badly to go to Germany this fall, but I don’t know if it will actually be financially feasible. One of the biggest things my thoughts cycle around is money, which is true for a lot of people I’m sure. I am currently fixated on how much I will need to spend to see a counselor, instead of thinking about how awesome it will be to start working really hard towards positive changes.

I’ve found some mental health support groups that my roommate has offered to attend with me when my schedule permits, plus she’s helping me figure out my options in regards to a counselor.

I know myself well enough to know that I’m spiralling down, and if I don’t get more help soon, I’m going to be in trouble. I can’t go back to a me who cries daily, who doesn’t eat, who sleeps all the time.

I don’t want to look back at my life and only see periods of grey and black.

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Back to Me

Words haven’t wanted to come lately. Not here, not in my mind, not in any of my paper journals, not on my laptop. I am still trying to find a safe resting place.

Physically, I am safe. I am settled into a pretty comfortable routine with my amazing and loving roommates. I am working, although it’s not at a job I want permanently. It pays well, and while I’m technically part time, most weeks are closer to fulltime hours, though the randomness of shift work.

I think I have stopped losing weight. I’m down 10-15 pounds from my normal weight, but I’m trying to make myself eat. It’s only noticeable in my jeans, I think. My belt needs to be done up two notches tighter. I’m sleeping better, too.

Mentally, I’m starting to feel a lot better, but I still want to find a counsellor or depression support group. I have made a pretty concerted effort to not talk to the Pirate the last month or so. I messaged him for his birthday 3 weeks ago and haven’t spoken to him since. It’s hard. Harder than I thought it would be, but I know it’s what I need to do.

I still have horrifying moments of panic when I just feel utterly devastated that we are no longer together. Then I remember his hurtful words, and his hurtful actions, all while simultaneously professing that he is a nice guy. No, dude. Nice guys aren’t manipulative jerks who only look out for themselves. I’m trying to keep that thought to the fore when I feel the worst, when I just want my friend back.

I still feel like I’m searching for where I belong. I don’t think Edmonton is home, not where I want to settle, but I’m trying to make the most of it. My cost of living here is a lot less than it was in Vancouver, and I’m making more money. I’ve had a couple slips with money lately, like buying a fancier phone than I actually need when my last one died, but generally I think I’m doing pretty well. I have a little bit of money saved-not nearly as much as I’d like, but it’s a start. I have been making additional payments towards my debts, with a vague hope to be debt-free by the end of 2013. I am serious about traveling when my debt is paid off.

I have recovered a bit of my inherent girlness and am nervously looking forward to a hangout with a dude I have planned for when I’m in Vancouver visiting in two weeks. No plans to move back there at this point, and he knows that, so I think we’re both waiting to see what happens when we hang out. I am terrible about not worrying about things, so of course I’m probably making a bigger deal about it than I need to.

I would like to find my home. I would like to find a place I enjoy and stay put for longer than a year. For now, it’s Edmonton. I have committed to myself that I will give it a full year here before I leave. I am pretty sure that I want to live in the B.C. interior somewhere, but I have yet to commit to that.

In a lot of ways I’m still taking it one day at a time, but more and more days are tear-free. More and more days have giggles and a mind that seems clear of fog. Now I’m mostly only having bad moments and not bad days, weeks.

I’m finding my way back to me.

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November has historically been a bad month for me. Before I took down all my archives, I have several posts from Novembers over the years, all related to the sad that I experienced in November. I don’t think it’s seasonal, exactly, as more timing. November always meant projects at school were coming due, and there were constant reminders of Christmas, which is admittedly the “holiday” that I care for the least.

I’ve had a pretty bad last month, what with finding out the ex is back together with his previous ex, and that he didn’t bother to tell me (even though I straight up asked him to, and he agreed he would) until I found out through the powers of the internet (I hate you, internet) (you hurt me real bad, Pirate. So bad I’m reconsidering all the sweet words you said to me during our romantic relationship). I managed to help piss off a friend and former coworker in Vancouver. I’ve lost my appetite and while losing some weight was on my to-do list, losing it unsafely due to depression is not how I wanted to go about it. My netbook screen has been wiggly, warning me that something is happening to it. My phone has a cracked screen (which is luckily still working), the USB connection has to be propped just so to charge the phone or transfer files, and the power button is not responding properly (it’s also the phone-lock button). I bought a plane ticket to Vancouver for 4 days in December, only to find out the next day that I had had an unpaid cell phone bill from 2011 sent to collections (I don’t even know how that happened). My work screwed up and didn’t pay me last Tuesday, and the emergency cheque they were cutting for me wasn’t going to be ready until Friday–2 days after rent was due. There was a fire in my building that saw me and the roommate’s dogs evacuated for an hour and a half, and I didn’t have a winter jacket yet (the humans I live with were out for the evening).

There have been some positives in this last month as well, that I’m trying to actively focus on. Every day that I work, I say to myself over and over that today will be a good day, as I walk to the train.

So, the things I’m grateful and inspired by right now, in no particular order:

-putting over $1000 towards debt repayment in October
-consolidating some consumer debt with a lower interest rate earlier this year, and the delight I get watching it go down every time I make additional payments
-my trip to Vancouver in 5 weeks to see my mom and step-dad, my Turkey, and various other Vancouverites (and the plan to not see my ex while I’m there)
-nearly daily emails from another former coworker encouraging me to take some time for myself to heal and adjust to a new city, a new job, a new living situation, a new life plan
-the fact that this former coworker and I are friendly-flirting, reminding me that even though the ex said some extremely painful and disparaging remarks about my attractiveness and girlness, not every guy in the world feels the same way
-we have plans to have a beer when I’m visiting, and I’m really looking forward to his quirky sense of humour
-my acceptance into the editing certificate program (sadly, the class they suggest I take next is only offered in-class, in Vancouver right now, so I’ll have to complete them out of order)
-my hilarious roommates who have made me so welcome, give me hugs or tough love when needed, eat the slop I cook, bake for me, give me rides when needed, and don’t mind when l occasionally crawl into bed with them and their dogs to cuddle (it’s a pretty full bed and I do it as a joke)
-my amazingly beautiful, smart, hilarious nephew and the fact that he’s going to be a big brother in the spring. And that his Daddy is an amazing role model of a big brother
-banana pancakes
-learning how to sew with my new sewing machine
-that my work moved as quickly as they could to cut me an emergency paycheque and gave me a coffee gift card to apologize
-the ebooks a friend gave me for my Kobo before I moved out here
-my Daddy planning to visit some weekend this month
-my new life plan of paying off debt, saving as much as possible, and going travelling in two or so years (this depends on money though)
-plans to go see Frank Warren of PostSecret, tonight (with a friend of my roommate) (it was 80 bucks last time he was in Vancouver, 35 here is affordable for me!)
-the buses in Edmonton are all running wacky because of the snow, but I only need to catch a train to work and can walk to a grocery store
-walking a dachshund in ~6 inches if snow. He bounces like a bunny!

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I’m Worth More

When my ex and I broke up, I asked him to have the courtesy to tell me himself when he started dating again.

I found out yesterday he’s been back with his ex for at least a month now. And he’s not who told me.

I wrote a huge post last night about how hurtful I found this, but instead of publishing it, I hit private. If you want to read, I’ll email it to you, but it’s not going to be public, at least for now.

He said he didn’t tell me because what if it didn’t work out, and I got upset for nothing? And that he didn’t see the difference between me finding out right away or later. He wanted to try to salvage what was left of our friendship.

The fact that he straight up told me he’d tell me is what burns.

I emailed my post to my best friend in Vancouver for her opinions and just because I needed to share. She very sweetly came out with some observations that seem pretty bang on to me.

This guy is a serial monogamist. In the 13 years that I’ve now known him, been friends with him, he’s only been single for a total of months. He goes from girl to girl, often almost immediately, or with very short periods of time between them. Hell, we started dating 3 days after he broke up with his ex, and if that wasn’t enough of a warning for me to protect my heart, I don’t know what is.

This also led her (and I) to the impression that he is unable to be alone. How can he develop as a person if he always has a girlfriend? She also mentioned that him going from his ex to me back to his ex seems to follow a pattern, and that his not telling me seemed to indicate he was holding out in case he needed a back up plan. A back up girlfriend. If things didn’t work with them, there was always the chance of trying to get back with me eventually.

I’m sick of hurting because of this guy. I feel like he’s been lying by omission. But you know what? Fuck that. I’m making my own life, my own happiness, and I’m not going to allow myself to pine for him anymore. If he can’t respect our many years of friendship by treating my heart with decency when I ask him to do one thing, tell me one thing, if he doesn’t have the spine to be honest with me, then I’m done wasting my time and my love and my mental health on someone like that.

I’m worth more than that.

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From postsecret.com

I was hoping to see The Pirate Who is No Longer Mine one more time before I moved, as I had just a couple last things I wanted to talk to him about, but I didn’t. I’d seen him twice since we broke up-so twice in 6 weeks now. I sent him an email earlier this week, to provide myself with some more closure (it’s not working yet, by the by). I thought about posting the email here, with some edits, but I’m not comfortable sharing such a personal piece of correspondence, especially since it directly involves someone other than myself (sidebar, he hasn’t responded, thought we’ve exchanged a couple text messages and a couple chat messages via the online game that I’m still helping him alpha-test).

I explained that I don’t regret very much in my life, but how I treated him is one of the things I do regret-I don’t ever mention it here, but I spent many evenings either having a couple beer or smoking pot to dull the pain and the apathy and the angst that I had been feeling. I also explained that a lot of my problems communicating with him was due to my crippling self-hatred and the fear of scaring him away.

I am so, so glad to be out of Vancouver, but I’m also so incredibly sad to be starting this next chapter of my life without him. I’m trying to treat myself as someone dealing with grief, because that’s basically what it is. I am so scared of facing life without him; thinking about the next 30-60 years without him as my partner is heartbreaking and panic-inducing. And the thought of starting another relationship with anyone else makes me want to be sick.

I hope to one day stop feeling like this, and I certainly hope it’s sooner rather than later, because I’m exhausted.

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