Posts Tagged ‘lies’

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People don’t completely suck and some of them are pretty amazing.

August 20, 2014

i have been reminded today that as much doubt, emptiness, fear, anger, and whatever else i’m feeling right now, depression really does lie.

 

i was reminded that some gifts are non-returnable. So even if connections with people are broken and severed, the lessons i learned and the challenges i overcame because of those people can never be taken away from me. It might be hard for me to realize the integrity of those gifts may not have been as pure as i had thought but they’re mine now nonetheless. 

 

i still want to find a cave right now. But at least i know i have some really good stuff waiting when i come out. 

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We’re all mad here, just not necessarily at the right people

August 19, 2014

There are things in the world right now that i want to be angry with. People i want to be angry at. But the depression monster likes to lie. So instead i’m just angry at myself right now. 

 

i’m angry because people tell me i need to not be so hard on myself right now and i can’t seem to even do that when i need to most of all. i’m angry because i just want to push everyone away and be alone. And because i don’t want to be alone either but i can’t figure out what i do want. i’m so mad because i have some of the most incredible people in my life and i don’t know how to handle that right now because i don’t think i’ve ever had so much support, sad and mad because it took this long to find that support.  i’m pissy because my knee hurts right now and because i didn’t go to physical therapy today. 

 

A lot of that is just surface stuff. i can’t seem to stop there. i can feel rage and a barrage of questions, why couldn’t i be the daughter/friend/girlfriend/person  X wanted? Why did i have to fuck everything up all over again? Why can’t i just shut up right now? When will i ever not think about picking up a razor blade to fix things? 

 

i’m trying to step out of my head and tell myself that every moment that i am here, writing, being, whatevering is something for me to not be angry about. But anger is something i need help with. i wasn’t allowed to express anger growing up so it all turned inward. i know that. So now i still have problems figuring out how to express anger and direct it places other than at me. And i am angry at the depression monster but depression is part of me so i just get stuck in a limbo. 

 

When someone does something to make me mad, i turn it around that i shouldn’t have trusted/connected/believed/etc. i should have known better. What is the use at being angry at that person because i can’t change that person- i can try to change me so i should be mad at me. But being mad at myself isn’t productive. It doesn’t get me anywhere except further info the vortex of negative voices in my head. So where do i put these emotions? How do they work? And can i retrain myself to figure this out? i really don’t like me right now- i don’t want to be around me right now so how do i reconcile all that anger i have toward myself and trying to keep holding onto the desire to wade through all this shittiness and come out stronger for next time? 

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An open letter to the monsters in my head

August 15, 2014

Dear Depression Monster,

Lots of people are talking about you right now. And i’m glad. Except i hope it doesn’t stop this time. i hope they keep talking long and hard and loud. You lie.  i can only speak for me but you trick me. You trick me into thinking that all those people who told me to call them when i wanted to pick up a razor blade don’t actually mean it. You trick me into thinking the razor blades are my friends. You trick me into thinking that everything will always have that haze over it and it will hurt to even try to get out of bed. You make me think i am alone and you make every negative voice in my head scream so loudly that i want to just make everything stop. You make my head hurt and my stomach hurt. You make me feel like i am out of control in every aspect. i can’t focus, so you remind me how poorly i am doing at things which will lead to my eventual failure. i can’t explain why you are there so you let me know what a terrible friend i am when people just want to help. You don’t even let me form words sometimes because you like to taunt me with just how worthless all of mine are. You tell me to push people away when i need them most. 

Well guess what? Fuck you.

Because i felt you creeping up this time. And i asked for help. And i let someone know. And i didn’t let you keep my mouth shut. i looked at the blades and then i curled up and let the love of my life and she rolled on her back and stuck her paws in the air and waited for me to rub her tummy and then she licked my face and curled up on my tummy and reminded me that she loves me NO MATTER WHAT you say. That doesn’t mean i win this round or any round. You will probably always be stronger than me. But if i can hold on until you decide to move on then i at least get points. 

You played a part in taking someone who meant something to me. i never met him. i most likely never would have. And maybe it sounds silly but my heart was full of love for him. And it hurts now. More than i ever thought the death of a stranger could. And i hate you for playing a part. I hate you for lying to him and everyone else. And i hate you for making people feel so ashamed because they know you. 

i’m not ashamed and i’m ready, with backup, to punch you in the face. 

me

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disappearing from everywhere except here for a while.

August 20, 2013

Thinking about disappearing.

 

Write it out they say.

 

Writing helps you, they say.

 

And i’m stuck in  head over heels tumble down a rabbit hole of things that i can’t tell are real or not.

 

Does writing help me? Is this just another lie i’ve told myself? Another lie i’ve told everyone else to make myself believe it? It takes these words- probably not even well put together words- and sticks them on paper that no one will read. Or throws them to the interwebs where maybe a few people will read them and i can look at my blog stats and say oh, x number of people came to my blog.

 

Does any of this make me feel less alone? Not especially. X number of people read my words and went on with their lives. There is no connection in that.

 

It’s cathartic. Yes, this one might be true. It is, in fact, a way to take some of the crazies in my head and pick them apart into sentences kind of like magnetic poetry. It makes me focus on one thing rather than feeling overwhelmed by all the tiny pieces. And then i stop and it starts again. It keeps my hands busy. i can’t use a razor blade and type well at the same time. i guess this counts as some sort of healthy release even when i’m thinking about the blade the entire time i’m typing.

 

Maybe the words don’t get me anywhere because i don’t let them. i’m admittedly terrified of everything that might come out if i were to really sit down and somehow be able to shut of the self censor i have. i’m scared of what to do with those words if or when i ever let them out. And i’m really scared to show people those words because words change things.

 

The tears haven’t stopped. i want them to stop. i need them to stop. i need everything to stop.