Tag Archives: depressed

People Are Strange. Wine Is Better.

Lately I’ve become so self-absorbed, I’m not happy, I’m not anything, but maybe that’s just how I’m meant to be. We don’t get born into this life to be happy, I guess we get born to experience, whether it be happiness or sadness or anything in between. I have no reason to be unhappy, I’ve tried enough medication to know that maybe this is just the way I’m meant to be, contained in a simple and sometimes satisfactory existence, I haven’t helped anyone, I can’t even help myself.

I miss hypomania, at least I felt something more. Instead I look calm and collected on the outside, my mind constantly trying to stay afloat among the negativity on the inside. Running away will never make anything better, I need to keep reminding myself this. It seems like humans have reached a point where we keep trying to teach ourselves how we are meant to be or feel, but this doesn’t make it right. It’s not like all the other species in the world go to extreme lengths to achieve happiness from an introspective position. I keep plastering a smile on my face, going through the daily motions of the expected emotions, I keep hoping that this will get better. Maybe it will matter later, maybe it won’t, maybe I will just keep drinking my wine, and hoping sleep comes quicker, daylight always keeping the darker notions at bay.

In the altered words of the monopoly man: “Go directly to Depressiondo not pass go, do not collect $200″. Its ok, I never win at monopoly anyway.

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Go Away Anxiety, You Have No Friends.

Having an anxiety attack is no walk in the park, it’s really quite disturbing, you believe that something is physically wrong with your body. I begin by having non-stop over-analytical thoughts followed by light headiness, limp arms and heartburn/palpitations that can last hours (I never get heartburn unless I’m experiencing anxiety), to say the least it isn’t a cup of tea. In my own way I triggered my anxiety by having distrust in another, I couldn’t stop myself. Anxiety can be like a dictating sovereign, ruling your moves and planting seeds of doubt in your foundations. I start to see every opposing and unbalancing situation in my life as a battle, a battle that has to be won, sacrificing your casualties and making the most of the fighting force that you have left. Why does everything have to be war though, bleak, desolate and crippling.

The aftermath of a war sometimes having more devastating consequences than the actual battle. We learn from war, we learn what we can do better next time, we learn what worked and what didn’t and how to best remain afloat. To be brutally honest during this war on anxiety I was a bitch, leaving causalities strewn in my wake. Today I realized what I had done, the thick curtain of anxiety lifting, the storm had past, now I need to workout what I do and don’t have to apologize for. I’ve been trying to get off my medication, but I’ve failed and the embedded reliance and unsubstantiated belief in the worth of psychiatry and psycho-pharmacology has won out.

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Nobody Likes You When You’re 23.

It’s looming, coming closer, I can feel the air becoming stagnant and distasteful. I have an overwhelming feeling of unbalance filling my mind, every year it’s the same, on Thursday I will be ‘celebrating’ my birthday…*cue horror screams* Lately I haven’t felt like writing, or doing anything for that matter. Each year it feels like my life has been put up on the high stakes table where it is scrutinised under industrial lights, the winner of the game will take all. Every year I try and fill the day with activities that will divert the always impending dread. The build up to the day acts as a depressive trigger, filling my thoughts with distorted discontentment. The morning after my birthday it’s as if none of it mattered, my emotions are still a little bit dulled and muted, but I would’ve weathered the emotional storm. With each birthday people have to confront the fact that they may not have achieved all they had hoped they would in that year.

That they may not be where they would be like to, the discontentment running deep. I guess at a younger age I always had a vision of where I would be now; birthdays are always filled with both crashing disappointment and anticipatory spikes of happiness. I’m trying to make myself stop and regain sight of things, appreciating the people and things around me instead of the things that are nowhere to be seen. It’s as if a birthday malaise exists, perpetually creeping in each year, slowly whispering in your ear as the day draws nearer and the time to complete your expectations is drawing to a close. I’m not one to let my birthday pass by unnoticed, but I’m highly susceptible to disappointment.

I’ve planned small things this year, not wanting to be uncomfortable in group settings, finding comfort in close friends and family. It’s so hard to let go of being depressed about my birthday so that I can actually enjoy it, trying to release the past disappointment to embrace the present, focusing on progress and not the perfections of one’s life. I need to fix my current mental happiness block that I’ve hit head-on. My happiness has become a single defensive tower that is being attacked repetitively by soldier triggers. I’m starving off depression, the stalemate not helping either side gain the higher ground. The overshadowing queen of darkness keeps on approaching, her army gaining size whilst offering the comforting pit of morbidity as parlay.  She plays her game well. Writing this makes me realize how silly and trivial it is to monopolize a day to such great lengths that you allow it to be a tyrant to your emotions.

On Thursday I will be 23, I will try and not let depression encroach, I will try and remember all the wonderful things I have in my life and not the things I don’t, I will try and not let it dominate who I am. After all it is only a day. Thank you Blink182 lyrics: “Nobody likes you when you’re 23

Dr. Maas acknowledges the “chicken-egg” problem inherent in bipolar and other mood disorders: “Depression can cause extensive insomnia, and insomnia can cause depression—which comes first depends on the individual and the circumstance”. birthday_cat_sad

Looking Back On My New Year’s Eve, Stupid Decisions & Stability.

The art of self-sabotage.

Just an indulgent repeat of my New Year’s Eve night, these thoughts are getting tedious, drinking is definitely not my friend. Trying to make these experiences ‘life lessons’. 

I had a few drinks; my head was swimming; swimming deep, trapped in the thoughts of the past. My present life is going extremely well, but it always seems that my past plays on my mind, slowly taking away from the joys of the present. I wonder if you can start to forget these thoughts, put them behind you, hoping for a fresh start. I know I’m stable, yet there are always these particular thoughts, amplified by a glass or two of wine. The alcohol brings the past back into clarity, who I use to be and what I use to do to myself. Binge drinker, depressed, self –harm, binge eating to combat depression, attachment issues, suicidal tendencies, un-empathetic, fitness junkie, food restriction and control freak. I think about all of this, I have time off from work and no university at the moment, I feel completely useless and unproductive, spending my days doing nothing. I know I’m stable, but this uselessness isn’t helping me. In the early hours of New Year’s day, as I slowly walked home through the worst parts of town, I knew I was out to hurt myself, I knew full well that it was dangerous to walk here. I stopped on the rickety bridge that was above the overpass, I didn’t move from that spot, wondering what my body would look like if it had fallen and hit the rocks below.

Drinking that night and being on medication wasn’t in my best interest, it was self-destructive. I type these thoughts so that I can put them behind me, hoping they won’t come to haunt me later. I pushed myself away from the bridge, the indulgent distraction led me into a drunken group of men that had been kicked out of a pub, I heard their catcalls, but I wasn’t bothered, I don’t think I cared. Their jeers continued for a while, I kept walking, not enticing them. In the morning the only thought I had about the night was the fact that my heels had allowed me to walk the 6km home without any bother. I didn’t regret the night, the adrenalin I got from my potentially dark walk home served to reinforce the negativity that I had been searching for. My friends said goodbye to me that night, asking where my cab was, telling them it was coming and that they should go back inside, I started my walk, thinking that I needed to clear my head, but there wasn’t anything to clear, just an angry voice inside that was egging me on just to see what would happen, there wasn’t any weighing up of risks, I just walked.