M* A* B*-H*

Fuck this. Went to the head doc today- Pills for depression aren't working. Fall asleep at 3am, sleep for 10 hours, no drive, no ambition.

No ambian, wouldn't have minded clonopin. Got generic for ativan and that not doing shit. Took one, nothing, took another, nothing.

Shrink appt in 3 weeks.

Fuck at some point you have to let go of the person you're holding onto. I need to get my head on straight and figure out what's going on.

Pushing through school work, getting stuff done.

My soul, that place in your chest that feels so good when your in love and hurts like a m'fucker when it's broke. It's wilted. No get up and go.

For my reader(s) in Germany- thank you.

My great-great grandfather was Prussian. He came to the states around or after the Franco-Prussian War. He married a Protestant lady and our future contact with our Jewish roots ended. Emil Block. My great-grand father was first generation. And my maternal grandmother second generation. I miss my grandma quite a bit. It was always great to be around her. She was this force who spoke her mind, but was still caring. She went through a lot in her life, experience that hardened her. She always seem more optimistic than not and quick with a laugh. F' do I miss her.

So, there was a saying that her grandfather taught her and it translated to - you're some so dumb the geese would eat you.

I wish we would have written down the German words.

Although we're European mixed, we seem to run more UK and Germany.

Slightly dustier with a chance of panic.

It’s late, I’m awake. I could work on homework. Blah. Taking three on-line classes and it’s kinda kicking my butt. I hate writing papers. The end. And I hate memorizing. That’s why I was a good art student. Projects, make pretty things.

Now though, 35, unemployed, back in school. 100 level business class. Reading dry, boring textbooks. Unable to form complete sentences.

Seeing a psychiatrist next week. I need a touchstone. Not that I don’t love it here, but here won’t solve any problems.

So, I would like a family of my own. A nice, comfortable family consisting of a few furry beasts and a man. I don’t want that right now, but at some point in the medium future.

My hands are showing my age. Actually I think they look older than I actually am. My mom had these hands when she was in her late 40s and now I have them 10 years too soon.

Draw a horizontal line. Label it content. Somewhere above the line is manic, way down below is severe depression. I never get above that horizontal line. Let’s say severe depression, the worst is a -10. I average a -2. Right now I’m a -3, sometimes almost -4. Occasionally I get on the positive side.

Used to be, in my early 20s I held onto pain and anger, afraid that if I let go, then I would float away. Now, it’s different. It’s age and experience weighing me down. Oh, and present situations. Now, I float between -2 and slightly over zero. I float wrapped in a blanket. I warm cozy blanket that induces sleep. Want to crawl into bed and stay there.

My bed is my safe place. My happy place. The world does not exist when I am in my bed. A floating raft of safety and calm. Can’t hurt me in my bed. That’s not true, but I like the idea.

Funny that because I can’t fall asleep during normal sleepy hours. Bring on the daytime sleeping. I feel safer falling asleep in the day. My mind isn’t as noisy. At night too many not all together content thing wander through my head. Slightly dustier with a chance of panic.

Old Enough

I’m old enough to learn from my mistakes- I will do that.

I am old enough to know that reacting the same over and over again to the same situation will not change the outcome.

I am old enough to know that my love for myself must be more important than my lust for anyone.

I am old enough that sometimes a door must stay shut. Nothing has changed behind that door. The contents are the same. Repaint the door, put on a kick plate, a fancy door knocker. The contents are the same.

Growing up sucks. I will do my best to have as few regrets as possible. If I love, I will be honest in my love. At some point having too many regrets about the same thing is just douchery. Dumbass-ness.

No good can come of that.

My id has a nemesis and last night my ego decided to dream about this person. If I were to see this person out and about, I would try to beat the crap out of her. My hatred runs that deep. Strange since I was willing to forgive her co-conspirator.

My last boyfriend cheated on me with his best friend’s girlfriend. Thinking about all of that makes me sick to my stomach. The fact that I accepted his excuses makes me even sicker. And it took me two and a half years to leave him. I didn’t try to convince him or myself that I was in love with him after he cheated. I carried on because I didn’t have it in me to uproot my life. Sad but true- I stayed for my dog and cats. Staying meant a bigger apartment instead of moving into a hole in the wall by myself or moving back to the Midwest.

When the sh*t hit the fan, I had three cats and my dog, my sister, who I now live with, had two dogs and a cat, plus husband. I couldn’t do it. But over time I gathered my strength. I kept track of his assery. Each time he was a douche, I filed it away in the folder marked, “this is why I’m leaving.” Moving out sucked, but I remembered all those times he was an ass.

Funny, now the nemesis has a kid with her then boyfriend and from all f*cebook stalking accounts, they are still together. She got pregnant 3-4 months after the cheating.

So, last night I dreamt about this chick. And it’s a vivid dream with lots of emotion and he’s there too. Anger, betrayal. Not having the full ability to kick the crap out of both of them. Now because of the dream she’s in my mind eye and it makes me sick. I wish a could mentally vomit her out of my mind. Thank god she was never a friend of mine.

The last boyfriend and I were together for four years. My longest continuous relationship. Walking away and staying quiet is a challenge. I want to yell at him, but calling him is a can of worms that needs to stay shut. No good can come from that.

So, what do I do? I dig up older skeletons.

From One Side to the Other

At a meeting about meetings. Today I'm in the audience- two months ago I was sitting behind a drape behind a computer wondering how much time was left. Clothes are different, attitude not so much. I'm so used to moving around and putting out fires that sitting in one spot for longer than thirty minutes isn't easy.

Now I'm on a train to head home.

My sister will probably make the decision to put her dog to sleep today.

We went down to my mom's this weekend. If anyone has any experience dealing with parents and mental illness I'd love to get some advice.

Usually I have pretty bad nightmares after visiting her. It's stressful seeing how she's not taking care of herself.

There's a woman on the train playing a game that making mustard squeezing noises. Or very crudely wet farting noises.

One month until hopefully I'll see fisher. Driving to and from my mom's we came within 45 minutes of where he lives. It's probably best that I don't have the money to visit him. For one he's in rehearsal for the show that opens soon. Second, because I've been a little crazy in the past and having set the time to visit me is just better. I'll have to decide to pining for him is worth it, if he decides he can't visit.

Later that same night-
K* lived a long and happy life. My sister gave her the best life possible. It is a sad day.

Let go of your anger. It will not save you. Anger eats at you from the inside. Enjoy life and be happy.

Exposition

By all accounts I should be asleep right now or at least attempting to fall asleep. Failing on both counts.

Within the next few weeks, my sister will have to decide when to put her dog to sleep. As you can imagine we are all very sad about this. The decision to end a pet’s life is not an easy one in our family. I hug K* and try to commit to memory her soft fur and regal look. She’s lived thirteen wonderful years, my sister has rightly spoiled her. She’s a great dog. For being a large full bred dog she has lived fully into her senior years.

A year ago I had to make that decision for one of my cats. She was my first pet. Not a family pet, but mine. It’s a terrible decision to make and one based on mercy. The thought of an animal or person not existing any more upsets me. Since my dad’s death I’ve thought a lot about my existence and what to do with it. The mindset of martyrs and those that are willing to sacrifice his or her own for a cause is not something I understand.

For what would I trade my life?

Death is always moving closer. Taking those around me until it finds me. Here I am doing my thing, getting older and one day I won’t. I keep thinking that somewhere inside my brain that I know what comes next. Knowledge that is locked away.

More evidence should exist that life is precious. It should not be spent fighting or filled with anger or hate. We are here for such a short amount of time.

Time needs to slow down. When my dad was my age his life was half way over.

This is all so depressing.

Tomorrow my sister and I will drive south to visit my mom. Bring on the depression.

Bunch of random crap knocking around in my head. And I’m sitting still making no progress.

This is so not interesting to anyone, not even me.

Seeking Nirvana

So, there’s some stuff that I need to get off my chest and face before the soul mate visits…

In the winter of 2000, while visiting my family at Christmas, I visited Fisher in College Town, USA. When I got to his apartment he had a rose for me. He was outwardly in love with me.

I freaked out. At least on the inside. Any feelings, love/hate, went away. I felt nothing. We talked and I couldn’t get nearer than five feet to him. I was numb. Finally getting what I always wanted, being the object of his affection and I couldn’t return the favor.

We hung out, talked, listened to music. I think I may have even spent the night there. As you could assume, nothing happened. Somehow he ended up driving me to the airport when I left to return to grad school. I asked him to visit me in the desert. I wanted him to show me that he loved me. Fisher drove three days to the desert. When he got there and I couldn’t kiss him. In bed I rolled away from him.

He never kissed me and I wish he would have. Maybe it would have broken the spell.

I’m freaked out that I’ll do that again.  Somehow I have to get my mind right. Usually that involves visualization. Used to be that I would always picture myself in the future. In my mind's eye I would already be gone, but still physically sitting in a chair.

I’ve learned to use it as a tool. Off to do something unfamiliar- like moving in with my sister. I pictured myself living in her house. Soon after picturing myself there in my minds eye it became a concrete memory.

I had a crazy dream last night. How is that in your dreams the id and ego exist separately? Or is that conscious vs subconscious? Anyway there was a person in my dream that I connected with on a very deep level. The connection felt real. I’m always amazed at the realness of dreams. Crying in dreams and waking up crying. The physical manifestation of dreams.

Some might say that I over think my life. The Buddha did a lot of thinking and look where that got him- Nirvana. I’d like a piece of that.

A nice inner calm. No matter what, everything will be ok.