Night

     My mother got very upset today after failing a test for the second time required by her job. She missed the goal by one stupid point. She got an 89% instead of the mandatory 90%, and the people grading the tests weren”t decent enough to bump her grade up. But they don’t know that she’s got severe test anxiety. She came home early crying about the situation. As I was trying to talk her through it, she made the decision to go to the emergency room and talk to a counselor there. 

I am slightly envious that she so willingly decided to go to the hospital like that for emotional distress. I’ve only been close once I can remember about asking to go to the hospital, more than a year ago, when I didn’t want to go home and was suicidal. I didn’t end up going that time because I just couldn’t get the words to leave my lips that I needed to. A few bad things resulted from that, but i still don’t know if I’d willingly make it known that I needed to go to the hospital for a crisis like that. At times, it does scare me. The way I can so easily keep quiet and be secretive, even if every part of me knows it’s wrong and is fighting against it.

My mother’s alright now. From what she told me, she felt much better after she was able to talk to someone about what was going on at her job. Even though there are times I hate thinking about my therapy sessions, I will admit I like having someone to talk to like that. Face to face without worrying so much about judgement. But of course, I can’t tell my therapist everything. If I did, I am sure he’d suggest putting me away somewhere to be watched for a time probably. I don’t know what he’d suggest, but I know I wouldn’t be alright with it.

I am too good at lying…Beside that, I don’t think I know exactly what the full truth is anymore. If someone asked me how I feel, I wouldn’t have an answer. What does it mean when I don’t have an answer to that?……Anyway, here are a few lines I wrote a few weeks back.

 

Eyes of a soft shimmer, burst with glimmered tears

Tiny shards of sable songs

They fall and fall forever

Voices of desperation scratch gray until it bleeds

Beautiful insanity, lit spectacles of ruin

Drunken delusions slurred a world that made more sense

A timely dose of nightshade

So asleep, I’m almost dead.

 

 

Reality

The title of this poem kind of sums up what I’m talking about in it. It’s scattered, like most of my writing, going from one thing to the next, where it’s easy to get lost unless you’re me and know what was running through my head when I wrote it, but anyway…I have a note book with random lines I write, and when I want to write a poem, but can’t really figure out a specific topic, I try to string some of those lines together to accumulate a topic. This is the result of weeks from doing that. The form is one I made up as I finished writing. I just think this poem fits for the time right now with my life. Going from wishing someone could see what was happening to me, to blaming myself and feeling terrible guilt, to being bored, numb, and lifeless day in and day out.

Certain dreams cause me a fit
No one deciphered my silence
Or noticed my laughter had a glitch
Truth is hidden so well in a hinge
Who cares when fresh blood arrests my attention?
Or when my wounds manifest an infection

I still rot the inside out.

Life won’t accept a fragile confidence
It effortlessly mutilates my own self respect
I am dedicated to the silky texture of rejection
Familiar abandonment’s painful affection
To steal away from future years….
Tonight makes a promise for tomorrow’s tears

Soggy prayers in faithful doubt.

I have an aura in gray
My plans fall apart so beautifully
From light to ash, I’m not worth its healing
Solitude never negotiates my feelings
My senses only recognize a sour burn
Thick fluid of my eye growing bored and course

A real spirit’s never found.

I have created a page titled ‘Eden’ that’s got more (not all) pictures from my day at Eden Park’s botanical garden.

More of the same…

      For the last week, I have probably cried every single day. This is all just not good. Nothing is right anymore, and it hasn’t been right for so long. And I am tired of repeating myself, feeling the same stale emotions, feeling hopeless about the future. I can not think about the future without considering not being around for it.

Classes start tomorrow for me. English and Human Relations. Both required for my degree. I am not happy. When I say that, I now it’s nothing to care about, because day after day millions of other people out there aren’t happy, yet they endure and continue their lives. But the difference I guess between me and them is I don’t have a true reason to continue. I don’t want a husband and kids. I don’t want to pretend I am worth anything in this life. It is useless, and it is a lie.

My family….forgets about me. They are the last. I don’t need it anymore. My thoughts are fixated on self-destructive things. The mess I am is right beneath my mother and brother’s eyes and they have done nothing to let me know they see me. Good. I’ve known for a long time that I could get away with a lot around them. I can do what I want. Many times there have been tears on my cheek, and blood on my sleeve, and they were perfectly blind. Here I am, thinking about killing myself, knowing well that I could get away with it.

I know; there’s always something holding me back from it, and in lighter moods I am so grateful for those things. I know it might get better. I have to put my care in that, but it doesn’t mean I can simply ignore the way this crying and these tears aren’t enough. It’s supposed to be the release, yet I can cry for hours and still feel the same. 

I went for help many months ago, and I’ve fallen back in a worse way. I know there’s help out there, but now I truly don’t care. I know it may not work at all, to do this all over again. I am unwilling to do anything at all it seems…. and that’s the biggest problem.

Fear has a grip on me, anxiety, negative expectations, low self-esteem…These aren’t things pills, or talking through with someone else can fix. It might help in realizing things, but the way I see it, it took years to get me as unhealthy as I am now, so it will take years to fix it. I am not sure I’m up for that. I don’t have years to get myself together. But I’ve got right now to fall apart completely.

I have been drawing for hours at a time lately. It keeps me away from other thoughts. I wish I knew what was wrong with me. I can’t change the past, so why do I let its guilt and embarrassment affect me now? Why do I remember what hurts when nothing calls for it? I guess because the past holds a lot of emotion. Hurting is better than feeling nothing at all for so long, in my eyes at least.

Goodnight.

 

All the lonely people…

    I’ve had all the friends I’ll ever have, and they’ve all gone away. I avoid making new friends in the real world now. I don’t answer the phone because it’s never anyone for me. Why am I still living? What kind of life is this where I’ve trapped myself so severely, isolated myself beyond the point of insanity? Why go on? I’ve lowered my dosage by another 25 mg, meaning I’m taking the least amount I can without cutting a pill in half, and I feel like dead weight. Throw me away already, I am nothing good. Damn…I can hardly get out of bed now simply because I can’t find the motivation to do so. Sure, there’s a lot I can do, many hobbies, but I just can’t move some mornings. It’s to the point where my legs and hips will ache as I lay, and I still don’t move, despite the increasing pain. It’s as if I don’t care if it hurts to lay there, I just don’t want to leave my bed and face the task of occupying another day.

50 mg, of Zoloft. That’s all I’m taking now. One tiny pill, and I guess I got what I wanted. It’s not so scary to think about pain anymore.  Not like when I was on 150 mg of Zoloft..lol. That’s only because I was twitching and moving and thinking too much, and too fast to consider pain and death. I was actually living during those few weeks. Not anymore. Now I know I truly can’t expect anything to work out for very long…this medication’s effects wore off too soon….at least that’s what I’m guessing happened.

There’s a feeling welling up inside that tells me something has to die soon in my life. Maybe it’s a way of thinking I have, maybe it’s a relationship within the family, or maybe it’s simply a bad habit, but something needs to die. That includes my physical death. Wouldn’t that be a weight at least off my family’s shoulders? My inability to get a job, or to make contacts and relationships makes me believe I can’t live and be independent. That scares me, because it means I might be a leech the rest of my life, and I don’t want that. But then I ask myself what I do want, and I come up with nothing. That doesn’t scare me; it makes me think I’ve just figured out the answer to every problem. If I want nothing, I shouldn’t take anything, not even another breath.

Things got complicated. And I realize I’ve not gotten better, just more tangled in the nightmare, too involved without anything to offer. I can not solve it.

Heaven Fades

This poem means a lot of things. Take it as literal if it makes more sense, but there is symbolism here. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what it means myself….I guess I mean the good things I was once told; the advice always on the bright side and how it doesn’t keep me anymore. A certain faith and security is gone and isn’t coming back soon. Darkness being more abundant, always there; light being so short lived.

A death before the life
When nothing’s wrong, nothing’s right
What if there is no afterlife?
No divine love in paradise…

Don’t presume to know what He wants
We are his random dream
I’m sure his feelings aren’t hurt
Our ‘loyalty’ means nothing

A moral story, a rusty hymn
Pure nightmares, utopian myths
Grim death is bond unto the soul
The fear that lives and dies alone

They are far upon their thrones
Those stars died out so long ago
A trillion thoughts, angels all spent
Heaven fades, in the chaos of darkness

Easy to break

I’m pretty certain that I am afraid to get stressed out now. I mean seriously stressed out; like how it was back in high school, crying before I left every morning, migraines. I don’t want to go through that again. So I avoid over doing the homework and study time now, but it results in losing motivation you know? If the pressure is not constant, everything I must do is half hearted and feels even more like a waste of time and effort. The prize doesn’t seem worth it.

On the other hand I break more easily now under stress, and now that I’ve seen how far I can fall, I’m concerned that any pressure that goes further than my limits will erase the mental strength I am still trying to build up. I’m basically saying I am fragile when facing stress in my life now. Maybe I’m just too sensitive to everything….I remember how someone criticizing me as a kid could cause me to melt into tears. You know, the kind of crying that you’ve got no kind of control over….and the worst part is I wasn’t above crying in front of other people. They never said a damn thing to me anyway, why should I have cared about them seeing me as a weak child? It’s what I was…lol.

I’ve been thinking. Maybe I should accept that I am just an unhappy person. A person with a melancholic temperament….or someone who knows deep down that sadness is what I really thrive on. Emotion is what I thrive on, and I say sadness because it affects what I do more than any other emotion. It’s rarely happiness; in fact, I don’t know the typical kind of happiness that is all smiles. Joy and excitement and things like that are rare. I’m by myself so often, and all I have are past memories, embarrassments and negativity to dwell on. It’s just a part of me now I guess. These pills only rob me of emotion. I’m numb, tired, lazy, and actually feel worse the more I take them. Zoloft is approved to treat social anxiety, but in my opinion, it can only help out with the physical responses to anxiety. And guess what: I have those symptoms still in social situations. In the beginning it was working. I didn’t tremble or sweat or have heart palpitations so badly, now, it’s all returned. That’s why they always recommend therapy for SA because it’s a behavioral thing that needs to be worked on. Medication can help with the symptoms and extra complications like depression that stems from the SA, but there needs to be practice when dealing with the thoughts and reactions associated with it.

Sure, I could be causing these issues for myself from lowering the dosage a bit, but even before that, the effects were waning pretty noticeably. I’ve already written enough about all of this haven’t I….Well, I’ll end with some quotes:

“We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, ‘Why did this happen to me?’ unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.” —-

“Home, nowadays, is a place where part of the family waits till the rest of the family brings the car back” -Earl Wilson

“Suffering is the price of being alive, and it is music and singing and art that has helped me live through some of the most difficult things that have happened to me” Judy Collins

These are random quotes, but ones I can relate to.