it’s never really gone

dunno… ever since I went all-in with composing things just seemed to be… fantastic. I loved what I was doing. I was getting so much love and support from the people close to me. there were a few blissful days when everything just felt right, and I was genuinely happy. like not 100% happy 100% of the time, I still felt the full range of human emotions. I still got frustrated, and doubted myself, and felt guilty about composing while other people (e.g. Fox) work soul-crushing jobs to put food on the table… but for once when people asked how I was I could honestly say that my life is good.

for once I wanted to talk about my life. and people seemed to enjoy watching my face light up when I did so.

and every day I’ve been loving my husband more and more, appreciating him more and more. (especially since he’s being so super supportive!) we went away last Friday to celebrate our five-year wedding anniversary, just a night at a bed and breakfast, and it was wonderful. tbh we hadn’t been sleeping together – in either sense – for quite a long time, and we both wanted to change that. well, it seems all we really needed to do for the more entertaining interpretation of that phrase was spend some time cuddling in a comfortable bed with the intention of being close. no distractions. no technology. just our love for each other. it was amazing!

we had gaming on Sunday, which was awesome and fun [and interestingly enough involved one of the other player characters (PCs) getting married. among other things, my character coordinated with a third PC and some intelligent animals to incapacitate mercenaries who had stolen dishes and kidnapped part of the catering staff. I had a blast sneaking around, shooting arrows past the mercenaries’ ears, throwing things to mislead them regarding my location, and scaring the pants off one of them – ironically enough, while naked (to make better use of my character’s camouflage mutation). then some intelligent flying squirrels volunteered to serve food at the wedding, and somehow most people were okay with that…] gaming went on for a long time though, with kibitzing afterward, so by the time Fox convinced me to get off Discord and go to bed I was completely emotionally exhausted. like ready to cry exhausted.

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When I was feeling energized by my volunteer efforts, I couldn’t help thinking: “This isn’t going to last, and when I crash it’s gonna hurt. So I’m gonna make the most of it.” And, well, the crash has come. I’m exhausted. I’m starting to let the naysayers get to me – either dragging me down, or making me angry. And sometimes it feels like there’s no point….

I’m not sure when the transition started, but yesterday I had a huge anxiety attack that prevented me from going to the march I’d planned on attending. It really took me by surprise because I’d gotten used to being much more confident, almost like my anxiety had melted away. I almost felt like a different person… and yet there I was, back to panicking and sabotaging any possibility that I might have made it on time. Once I got to the office things went well. K was there being his usual ridiculous self and I finished the turf I’d been canvassing. I’d even recruited a couple new volunteers!

Today I’m just exhausted. I showed up feeling exhausted and made volunteer recruitment calls… they went okay. Then a couple of volunteers came so I tried to get them set up with phone banking. I felt bad because I was kind of ignoring Volunteer A to help Volunteer B. The latter had technical issues and decided to go home – ostensibly to phone bank using his own computer, but I have no way of knowing.

Volunteer A made calls for a little while, then asked if I would join him to canvass, “show him the ropes.” I agreed and we went out and I made a bunch of wrong turns and it was generally awkward – though he was fun to talk to and I think he felt the same about me. We didn’t get the best reception once we started knocking on doors, though.

And then there was one very nice older couple who support Bernie and are going to vote for him in the primary, but don’t think he’s going to win the nomination. (?) They were wonderful to talk to… until the wife asked me if I’ll vote for Hillary in the general election.

I made the mistake of answering honestly, and then all hell broke loose. They took back everything nice they’d said. They told me I don’t care about the direction of this country. They insulted me to my face. And worst of all, they refused to listen when I tried to defend myself. I got very angry and joined in their yelling match. It took me quite a while to calm down afterward.

I might have yelled some obscenities once we reached the sidewalk.

I feel horrible. So hurt that they attacked me like that, embarrassed that it happened right in front of a fellow volunteer, worried that our interaction might have turned them away from Bernie, and angry with myself for losing control. I might also be questioning… everything. All this passion, and where has it gotten me?

I did some phone banking after coming home. Mostly wrong numbers, no answers, and not homes. A couple of people laughed at me; one even said he felt sorry for me. (!) I identified some Bernie supporters, though, and a couple more volunteers. I hold on for the supporters and volunteers. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up though.

It seems like I’m going to be running the office for the rest of the week. That basically means answering the door, signing volunteers in, training them, setting them up to phone bank, and sending them out to canvass. When I’m not doing those things I should be recruiting more volunteers or finding something else useful to do… but I think instead I’ll bring earbuds and watch YouTube videos.

Still Here

I haven’t posted in 3 weeks, so I thought I’d just mention that I’m still here. I’m taking Thesis Seminar this semester; so far my topic has been approved and I’ve got some ideas bouncing around regarding it. I’ve been rather preoccupied with The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, – not just my Let’s Play, but mods as well. I’m also concerned/depressed about my health. I might have some kind of neurological problem (besides my psych issues) that’s affecting my visual perception and giving me headaches. To make things worse I’m between HMOs and my state’s program sent Fox a “reminder” to verify my citizenship, even though I’d addressed that 2 months ago. I’m trying to get myself to spend some time outside in the beautiful weather we’ve been having, but lately I’ve been more inclined to hide in my nice dark nerd cave. Basically hanging on to my life preserver, trying not to get seasick, and praying for this storm to pass.

Sometimes I Just Need to Sleep on You

Allow yourself to feel your emotions, she said. You’ll feel less tired when you’re not repressing them, she said.

Bull. Shit.

Okay, I let the sadness up. Happy? I even admitted to a pain that’s been brewing inside me for over half my lifetime (the fuck). What else do you want from me? Cotton candy? Let’s go, I’ll buy you some right now. I’m sick of this shit.

There is a thing gnawing on my insides. My stomach and my heart and my lungs. It’s big and ugly and it keeps growing. It’s turning my whole body nasty colors, from the inside out. It causes a deep ache and sometimes it stings and it’s always there.

Maybe I’m just hungry. I eat, it gets the food, but it’s still gnawing on me. Let’s go for a walk. Okay, I walk. Maybe I’m distracted from the pain for a while. It’s still there. You tell a joke. I laugh. It feels good. Maybe it loses its grip for a moment. But then I stop laughing, and it goes back to gnawing. When I cry, that’s it gnawing so loudly you can actually hear it. When I sleep it keeps me from resting fully and fills my mind with all sorts of crazy thoughts and dreams. When I wake – you guessed it! – still there.

I just want it out of me. Can you do that? I’ll give you anything. I’ll do anything. Just make it stop!

No, seriously, become ethereal.

TW: suicidal thoughts

In Skyrim you learn Dragon Shouts that let you do awesome things like breathe fire, cross a distance in the blink of an eye, and even force a flying dragon to the ground. The Become Ethereal shout temporarily suspends you between the physical and spiritual worlds. You cannot harm anyone, and more importantly, you cannot be harmed.

Combine that with invisibility, and you basically have the only way I feel I can safely exist right now.

One of my classes is about group therapy, intended to train students to be good group therapists. We’re reading The Theory and Practice of Group Therapy by Irvin Yalom. Before today I would have said that the more I read it, the more I want(ed) to participate in group therapy as a client. I think I need to have that experience for my own healing and before I can responsibly become a therapist.

The feeling was coming up as I read before class today, so I decided to call and see about joining the psych counseling group I mentioned in my previous post. The receptionist asked if I’d ever worked with campus psych services before. I said I’d tried but been unsuccessful. Then she said she didn’t know if the group was still open and transferred me to the person in charge of it. No answer, so I left a voicemail. No response (yet).

I tried joining a group by this organization once before. The person I’d spoken with had said she didn’t think short-term therapy would be good for me given my psych issues. Even though she offered to refer me elsewhere, I felt rejected. My experience today brought up the expectation that this is likely to happen again; they probably don’t want to deal with anyone who has severe – or even moderate – mental health issues.

The clinic Fox and I have been going to doesn’t offer groups that would be appropriate and won’t give me a referral. Even Wakana hasn’t been helpful in this department. I doubt I could find an appropriate group covered by my insurance, and Mom already seems to resent paying for my individual music therapy. I feel like there is no place for me.

I kept reading and what I read confirmed my fears. The very issues driving me to pursue group therapy would probably make me incompatible with the group they’ve created (to address a separate issue that’s just as important to me as any of the members they’ve deemed worthy of it). If I’m not a good fit, then I won’t benefit and may be harmful to the group.

And even if I were granted the privilege of joining a group, the early stages might be toxic for me. They consist of people measuring each other up and jockeying for position in the group. Initial attempts at unity and mutual support degrade as members become very critical of each other. I fear that in such an environment I would at best be ignored and at worst become a scapegoat… or just be outright rejected!

I wondered if this might be happening in class and felt unsafe with it. I thought that if it’s already bringing up all these issues, maybe I should drop the class. But if I do that, it will definitely take me much, much longer than the allowed time to graduate. I already need to request an additional year – that still might not give me enough time.

Then I read Yalom’s thoughts about tardiness and absenteeism and started to feel guilty about all the (non-therapeutic) groups I’ve left. I’d be running late for some reason, then embarrassed about being late so I wouldn’t go, and finally feeling weird about missing meetings so I’d drop out. I’ve done this more times than I can count. Any group leader would be wise to exclude me. The more I read about how harmful this behavior is, the worse I felt.

All the while the clock was ticking. I couldn’t even finish the chapter before it was time to go to class. I took too long in the bathroom. I felt anxious about my inevitable tardiness, but resolved to go to class because there’s a very strict attendance policy.

I arrived almost half an hour late. I looked through the window in the closed door to the classroom, but didn’t see a seat I could slip into easily. I hid in the bathroom to sort out my thoughts. Maybe I could join my small group when the class split up for the hands-on component? But my fellow group members are very nice and likely to ask friendly questions that are my worst nightmare – and even if they didn’t I’d have to explain myself at some point. (Maybe in front of the whole class! – they’d definitely be wondering…)

If I made up an excuse for being late I’d probably end up caught in a lie. When I’m feeling so vulnerable that I want to hide under a rock is not the time (I want) to come out as mentally ill (by admitting that the reading triggered me). I’d feel so much safer doing it so I could share things I’ve learned about therapy by experiencing it as a client. (How very academic of me!)

I looked at the time and realized that even though I was quite late, there was still the majority of the scheduled class time. I could still get quite a bit out of it. I tried to muster up the courage and looked in the room again… but still didn’t see any easily-accessible open seats. Anxiety got the best of me and I left, feeling defeated. I’m not sure how I got home in one piece. I crept back into my apartment and hid.

My own thoughts are my worst enemy. They have been battering me this entire fucking time: I’m worthless. I’ll never be able to support myself financially. I’m a burden and I’ll always be a burden. I should kill myself…

But the worst and most painful thought was this:
(I should contact [name] about this!)
No. Everyone who could help is probably busy, unavailable, or has more important things to do. They would be upset. You shouldn’t bother them.

I’m alone. I feel like my voice is gone. I thought about going to the ER but I don’t think they could help me. I think I’d be mistreated and that would make it worse. I feel like there’s nothing I can do… except maybe play Skyrim. It’s better than cutting myself…

Right?

A Step Toward Oblivion

I’m playing Skyrim to numb the pain. It comes when I’m not distracted by socializing, when I’m alone with my own thoughts. I feel like it’s always here, waiting for my loved ones to leave, for the electronics to go off, for me to get tired. I’m always tired. The voices – well, one very mean voice – told me I should drown myself because I dropped one of my favorite bowls (now considered “vintage” because it’s from the 70s) and it shattered. One of the other voices stood up for me: “It’s a bowl. Ze had to clean it up. I think that’s punishment enough.”

I helped Fox get out the door this morning, so he could be on time for an early shift. That felt good. I saw the sun rise. I got to hug him. I got to feel like I was doing something meaningful.

Now he’s gone and I’m surrounded by clutter. I’m tired. I look at my music instruments and feel sad, like my best friend has gone away. Oh, wait, she has. Banji was visiting for the holidays – but she had to go back to where she’s been living, a 5-hour drive away. It hit me much harder than I’d expected. She’ll be back soon. And I can visit her. Weather permitting, of course. But I still miss her. My heart’s been torn out and driven 5 hours away.

Courses. I need to get an extension so I can finish my degree. I’m afraid the dean will say “no,” or that it won’t be enough. I don’t think I’ll be accepted again if I have to re-apply to my program, and I can’t afford to re-take courses. My student debt is crushing enough.

I’m supposed to re-take the courses I had to drop 2 years ago because they were provoking suicidal thoughts. I was hurting myself – not doing any real damage, just causing lots of physical pain – on a regular basis because it was the only way I could get home from classes in one piece. So much was supposed to change between then and now: I was supposed to get better, to improve my music skills so I’d feel more confident using them in class, to become a normal functioning adult. Now I can’t carry a bowl from one room to another without it shattering at my feet.

I was doing better for a while – or so I thought. I learned a lot. I think that stuff is still with me, it’s hard to say. These depression and anxiety goggles are so thick and heavy I can barely lift my head.

But none of that matters. What matters is that something as simple as the holidays being over can still throw me into a deep depression like this. How can I live? How can I accomplish any of my goals and dreams?

Skyrim is my stasis chamber. It’s how I (am currently trying to) survive the long journey through the void of strong depression between planets of… mild depression.