the other shoe

i’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. i’ve been going out with my bf for about 8 months now. and things are fine, more or less. i’m doing a lot better over all. successfully moved and starting to settle into new place in nyc. don’t really miss boston too much. but then was i waiting for something bad to happen? for a while everything was perfect, well almost perfect. then i started crying on consecutive days and not due to my reproductive cycle, thank you very much. and couldn’t stop crying even when my bf was with me.

so all that to say, is happiness really only a phantom of the imagination? maybe it’s something disney and hallmark and the marketing people at various places conjured up so they could sell movies, cards, chocolates, flowers, etc.

i was always unhappy. i was depressed. totally utterly in despair. that i can deal with. well, except when things got really worse then i couldn’t cope anymore. so then when i started feeling better after 5-6 years of really bad depression, i was skeptical at first. many changes took place that could explain why i was feeling better. i stopped working with the therapist i had for about 5 + years without miraculous improvement or anything. doctors on my treatment team tweaked with my medication. i started dating my current bf. i hadn’t dated anyone in over ten years before i started dating him. i mean, i dated. but i didn’t have a boyfriend for i don’t even know how long actually.

spring of 2002 to end of 2008 (my second depression episode) utterly sucked. only thing that was going to make it worse was to be treated with ECT (eletro convulsive therapy). my old psychiatrist recommended that and was banking that ECT was my only hope of coming out of deep deep depression. well, i wasn’t going to have my brain fried. so i fired her. moved on to a new therapist, new psycho-pharmacologist, and continued on with DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy). well, for about a good 8 months i had consecutive days of non-suicidal ideation or urges which had never happened before since the depression of 2002 started.

lately, however, after months and months of not wanting to die anymore, i can smell it in the air. the muse which beckons me to death, to take matters into my own hands, it is slowly but surely making her move on me. past couple weeks, i cried, overdosed mildly couple of times, drank, and thought about whether there is really a point to my life after all. yes. the question that i could not get out of my head for about 6 years, not even for a single day, it came back to me. and i started wondering, what’s the point? why work so hard at recovery? why try so hard to feel better? it’s not going to last anyway. life sucks, right? and being depressed and feeling pain and suffering in life sucks even more!

so today i told my psycho-pharmacologist that i’ve been thinking about what’s the point of my life. i told her i had been dancing with suicidal thoughts. maybe for now it’s enough just to admit that i’m unhappy. being happy for the 8 months or so, well, maybe absence of utter despair is like happiness. but now as i’m feeling better, it isn’t good enough just not to feel pain. i want to have a meaningful life. yes, i want to have a life worth living. a life worth staying alive for. not sure i’m there yet. or that i’ll ever get there.

is it time to give up again? i’m not sure. all i know for sure is that while in the past i was happy just to see my bf, now i cry even when he is there. i cry because i want more. i don’t just want to hang out, i want some kind of certainty that things mean something. i’m not happy just to read some articles here and there, or to just send applications out even on slim chance that someone might look at my resume. i want a job. i want to go back to school.

but wanting things, that’s what leads to disappointment and pain. so i decided i think, subconsciously, not to want any of it anymore. so again i am where i was before this bit of relief found me after years of stormy darkness. i don’t want to be here anymore if being here means i’ll be unhappy and if it means i live to testify to the happiness i don’t have.

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So sad

I just watched the reader. And as with other movies I have watched recently, I felt really sad, cried and continued to feel sad after watching the movie. Maybe I just feel sad and realize it when I watch a movie that I am sad myself regardless of what is going on in the movie? Just feel like crying and crying. And want to just be put out of sadness. Just want the lights to go out.

anniversary

today is a hard day.  one of those days when you wish you could just get to tomorrow as soon as possible.  the past does not dictate the future.  but it sure can contaminate it!

i haven’t felt suicidal in about 2 months, but still have overdosed once in the past month.  i’m not sure whether or how long this apparent emotional stability is going to last.  i feel like i’m only a few steps away from doing irreversible damage.  somehow i always wake up with no organ damage or any other kind of permanent damage.  but who knows when i may one day not wake up, or wake up in a coma or with serious brain damage?

today i feel like everything may fall apart, that everything may come crashing down and that maybe i better be prepared for things just in case.

i just came back from an appointment with my psychopharmacologist.  i started crying while she was typing up notes.  i tried hard to stop crying, wiping away the tears as fast as i could.  i was hoping she wouldn’t notice.  i was hoping that if she didn’t see me cry that maybe i could stop crying and that may be my sadness would just go away.  but i couldn’t stop crying.  and i’m scared, terrified actually.

when you know how bad things can be, and you know sooner or later it’s going to hit you again, well, the time in between is just time i’m sitting in the waiting room.  and in some ways, waiting for the storm to hit can be more nerve wrecking than how things might feel in the middle of the storm.  ok, so middle of the storm if bad too.  AND the time anticipating or waiting for the storm to hit is bad as well.

to sum up how i feel today, life sucks when you feel crappy.  time doesn’t go fast enough.  the night doesn’t come soon enough.  and the waiting is unbearable.  so yeah, life sucks.  that’s all i have to say today.

it’s so uncool

it’s so uncool to cry in public places, especially a public place like starbucks where everyone is running from one place to another, sitting and chatting with friends or studying something because their entire life depends on that paper or exam or whatever.  i can’t help it though.  tears find their way out the corners of my eyes, rolling down my face.  how many days do i really have left to live?  no, i am not terminally ill, as in having cancer or HIV positive.  but i am deathly plagued by an illness, kind of like the illness where your white cells attack your own cells because they think their own cells are foreign antigens or something?  actually, it’s not exactly like that.  i know i am me.  i just don’t want to be.  i am not in favor of my physical well being if it is without psychological/mental/spiritual well being as well.

as i do sometimes when i’m not busy trying to end my life, i am sitting up in a coffee shop (instead of lying in my bed), and trying to read and write something that i find interesting and meaningful.  these are just one of the few moments, one of the few things, that i find worth while and would choose to do in my waking hours.  i don’t know what it is about working out, understanding, and creating complex ideas and theories that most people walking down the streets don’t think about for more than two seconds if they think about such things at all!

i find that i am blessed to be able to pick topics to read and write about that are of personal interest to me philosophically, theologically, or spiritually.  my current project is one in which i try to work out two different theories on value: one person argues that values are for the most part socially dependent and the other pereson argues that there are intrinsic values in things, like being human beings.  anyway i’ll see if/what/how i can contribute to the discussion. today so far is a great day!  with or without tears, even if i happen to be crying and feeling sad in a public place surrounded by christmas decorations, happy music and chatters of excitement, today is a day i am glad to have lived and looking forward to living.

sadness is creeping in like a spider under the moonlight

two days ago, as i was driving home with a friend, i told her that i felt like i could cry.  she said, go ahead, cry.  but i couldn’t.  i felt sad.  i felt like i could cry.  but i really couldn’t.  i came home and changed into what i called “moping clothes.”  i crawled into bed and lay there motionless.  a little while later, my sister came in and asked what i was doing, so i told her that i was moping and that i felt like i could cry.  so she said something, something like, why don’t you just cry then?  whatever she said it turned on my tears that came and came for the next hour or so.  i’m not kidding either.  the first half hour i was crying as if i were weeping for the dead.  i would cry, and then get the hiccups, you know what i mean?  my pillow was getting soaked and wiping the tears away with my hands wasn’t doing a good job of getting rid of the moisture.  after about 30 minutes of hysterical crying, i cried somewhat toned down, softly.  i was sobbing and sobbing.  the whole time, i was crying out to God, as i have read the psalmists cry out to God in times of their despair.  i cried out to God that the pain/suffering/affliction whatever i am experiencing in my life was too much for me to bear.  i didn’t want it anymore.  i asked God to take away the pain or to take away my life.  anything that would pop into my mind seemed so sad and all i could feel was sadness.  i felt broken.  like a mirror that shattered and is now missing shattered parts of itself and can’t be put together again as a whole.  on any other day, i might have been tempted to take matters into my own hands.  but two nights ago, i chose to just sleep and to let sleep be the relief i so badly needed and wanted.  

next day i felt better.  that’s not too shocking since i felt so badly the night before.  it’s hard to imagine how i might have felt worse.  i woke up with red puffy eye lids, like i stayed up late and rubbed my eyes too much or something.  i had therapy later that day.  i told my psychologist that i had cried the night before for about an hour.  he didn’t seem surprised.  he just asked, what were you sad about?  i told him that i didn’t feel sad about any specific thing.  i was just sad about everything and anything.  i was just sad about my life, sad to be experiencing life in the way that i do.  i can’t remember what else we talked about during the session.  i left with a sense that my psychologist was alerted to the fact that i was feeling pretty bad.  we went over a crisis plan that i have been working on at a program i go to once a week.  i have a list of people i want helping me and making decisions on my behalf if i am unable to do so.  i also have a list of people who i do not want involved in my treatment plan.  i have a list of medicine i take every day.  i have a list of medicine i am willing to take, should they become necessary.  and then there is a list of medicine and treatment they should not give me.  

it’s kind of an unsettling feeling to not know when i might have to check myself into a hospital.  it’s unsettling to know when i might burst into tears.  and when i do, i have no idea how long i am going to cry for or if i am ever going to stop crying.  i sense that there is sadness somewhere in me that has been hidden, buried and kept in check.  and for whatever reason, the sadness is refusing to sit back and let things run smoothly.  

when i check into a hospital, partial hospital or am interviewed by potential treaters, they always ask, do you have access to a gun?  are you feeling suicidal?  do you have a plan?  i answer, no i don ‘t have a gun.  i feel/felt suicidal.  and the plan, it’s tricky.  i’m not like the character on memento who has a 5 minute memory.  for him, if he had a plan, he would forget his plan in the next few minutes.  i have a memory that retains information a little bit better than that.  once i come up with a way to do something, how could i forget it?  it’s in my memory.  and when i get sad, really really sad, and sad for a long time, bits and parts of the plan become activated.  i know what i would do i if i were going to do something.  but no i don’t have a definite plan.  i don’t have a date or place.  it’s good that i don’t have a definite plan.  if i did, i would have to tell my treaters and they would be really concerned for me.  maybe they would be concerned enough to lock me up in a hospital.  but for how long would they keep me?  would i stay there until i said that i can’t remember the plan i once had?  or that i don’t have intentions of pursuing the plan that i had in my mind?  

i can only speak for the present moment.  right now, no, i don’t have a definite plan.  but sadness is creeping in, like a spider under the moonlight.