As I have mentioned it last week in Moving Forward, my therapist gave me some homework. It is called a “Depression Wellness Plan” and consists of a printed handout 11 pages long. I have known for a couple of weeks now that I should have sought professional help years ago. However after reading this document has made this so much more real. It keeps talking about what is activating my depression. The answer to that is nothing. It’s just on 24/7and has been on non-stop for the better part of the last two decades. It also tells me to be careful as negative thoughts, if repeated enough, can become automatic. Ditto. My first daily thought for most of the last 10-15 years has been “I don’t want to exist anymore.” That is it has been my first daily thought until about three weeks ago and since then the thing I say to myself the moment I awake “I need Her back in my life!” Interestingly enough, I look forward to getting back to the days when I just wanted to die in the mornings.
Tag Archives: depression
Day 12. Sweet Madness.
“Standing on my head at edge of the ledge,”
– Holmes Brothers, “Edge Of The Ledge”, Feed My Soul (2010)
Love. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It is madness that we welcome often enough with open arms and end up cursing with abandon, oozing pain from our shattered hearts.
The Wikipedia article on love has a great note that “diversity of uses and meanings, combined with the complexity of the feelings involved, makes love unusually difficult to consistently define, compared to other emotional states.” It also quotes a 2004 article by Helen Fisher “Why We Love: .” “Love may be understood as part of the survival instinct, a function to keep human beings together against menaces and to facilitate the continuation of the species.” But what happens when that becomes the opposite? What happens when things fall apart, when that love is unanswered? I’m not trying to question the necessity of love or rail against it. That would be an exercise in futility and there’s not enough strength for that. Rather my goal is to attempt to unravel the tangled emotional mess that I find myself in.
What do we do when love is unrequited? Do we keep the feelings hidden inside? I suspect there is no one right answer. As I am only going through this currently, I won’t know whether my actions thus far have been correct. One would have to be rather removed from the traumatic event in question in order to gain some sort of objectivity. The one thing that has been going through my mind though is that in general we tend to hide that which we are ashamed of the most. Humans in general tend to avoid unpleasant things. In psychology this is know as the pleasure principle. When it comes to yours truly, due to various psychological issues mentioned in the previous posts, this drive (especially the part about avoiding unpleasant things) is present in spades. So what to do?
I admit, I was possibly being selfish when I sent the message to Her professing my feelings. Most of the things I had said can be found in my previous posts: A Cut Too Deep and … And Darkness Falls. I suppose I was overcome by a sense of defiance against an unfair universe and desire to be open about my feelings. I have held things inside for so long that now it has become problematic to keep them out of sight. It is true though that I have not really considered what Her emotions would be upon the receipt of my tear-filled missive. I assumed from our conversations, from when we were together, that She simply would not care and forget it soon thereafter. I have not expected Her to be angry and especially not angry enough to send me the type of message that She did. I have not expected Her to think so much less of me as a person.
Am I deluding myself? Am I really “small, petty and jealous”? Well, jealous is a “yes.” That often goes hand-in-hand with heartbroken. But I truly do want Her to be happy and I truly am tremendously sad that it can’t be with me. And I still love Her so much that her absence is painful beyond anything I have experienced. Not having her in my life is the greatest sense of loss that I have ever experienced. I have poured out so many feelings on this blog to try to come to terms with them. I have made WordPress my daily routine. Yet, it was not enough. Was it self-indulgence, jealousy, pride, self-importance, or some other negative trait that has pushed me to tell Her how I felt? Perhaps. Perhaps it was all of them. Perhaps I am simply trying to rationalise my actions. I hope though that was not the case and that it was motivated by only love and desire to not be ashamed of my own feelings. That letter was written as a stream of consciousness in a fit of deepest sorrow, and passion, and love, such that while writing it I had to occasionally stop to wipe snot and tears of my face for I had trouble breathing and seeing the screen. I hope that She will understand it one day and find it in her heart to forgive me and my emotional foibles.
And I still love Her.
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Never Put Off ‘Til Tomorrow What You Can Do Day After Tomorrow (Or A Decade Or Two).
At first I wasn’t going to do a post inspired by the daily prompt but today’s theme did make me think of something. I am a horrible procrastinator. Part of having ADHD-PI is not being able to concentrate on the tasks that aren’t interesting. It is something that I know about myself and I try to do better but truth is that I have never tried all that hard. Plus, I do have that blind spot that helps me blank out and forget tasks that sound particularly distressing.
I should have sought professional help years ago but I told myself that things are not that bad and I do not require it. In effect, this has been a two decades long procrastination stretch. Must be some kind of a record!
So why did I do that? Well, part of it is cultural. As has been mentioned in a previous post, I come from a very straight laced culture where men are men and men do not talk about their feelings and only crazy people need mental health help. The other part of it is that it is hard to ask for help, especially this kind of help. Our inner psyche is our most private part. It is so private that sometimes we do not even let ourselves in, let alone other people. Inviting a complete stranger in has got to be the hardest thing there is. Plus, in most modern societies there is an ominous stigma attached to needing mental health help. (As some might rightly notice this is mostly just rationalisation but I’m not going to get into that all that much since there’s already a Rationalising And Reason today by thetalkingtherapist.)
Well, my misery cup hath runneth over. Yesterday was the day that I crossed that particular Rubicon and had my first session. It wasn’t easy to do this by any means but turning around and going home has never crossed my mind. Perhaps it shall later on when “shit will get real.” One of my goals in this new adventure is to change my thinking and learn to stop procrastinating. That said, however, I hope that I will still be able to enjoy lazy Sundays in bed and not get up just because I should. Now, if only I could finish the major cleanup I had started early this week…
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Day 11. Palpitations.
This morning is marked by an anxiety attack that just won’t quit. The heart palpitations that are chocking me remind me with every painful beat of my heartbreak. I know it’s over between us. Even though for You it was barely anything, it was everything to me. I know we will never be together – I’m not THAT delusional. I know You probably hate me right now. I know You will likely always consider me a psycho and a creep. But I would still do it again. Suffering in silence is what I have been doing for far too long. No more. I have seen and experienced first hand the suffering caused by holding shit hidden deep inside and pretending in public that everything was fine. I would still write to You about my feelings for You. I did not expect an answer but I got one and it was as painful as it was likely true. You have cut off all contact and blocked me on Facebook. I do not blame You. From your point of view it was likely a creepy and an inappropriate message. But I would still do it again. As much as I am pained by it, I am not ashamed by my unrequited love for You.
It too shall pass as most things are wont to do. I will probably get over it. I will start anew. And when I do, the burden of never having admitted my feelings will not weigh heavily upon my shoulders.
My inner démiurge seems to have been satiated and anxiety has passed for now. I have admitted my “problem.” Perhaps these bouts will become less painful in the future but I know that the love that I will always carry for you in my heart will be lighter, for it will not be darkened by shame of hiding it.
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Moving Forward.
Today was my first session with a shrink psychologist. I didn’t feel that it helped and I honestly don’t see how it could. But I know people whose lives were greatly improved by going into therapy and I have got to believe that there is an end game to this madness.
Also, not unexpected but still kinda weird, I got homework to do! Homework! Not sure how I feel about this. Schooling was never my strong suit. I need to believe though that this will work. Here’s to forlorn hopes and last resorts!
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Day 10. Hope.
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… And Darkness Falls. (Letter #3.)
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You never noted how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine awayThe other night, dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head, and I cried
I don’t know what I was expecting. You came in this morning all full of energy and light. You moved like a hurricane of divine power, darting from the living room to the kitchen to get a glass of water and my inner turmoil has matched the speed of you turning into a barrage of conflicting emotions. My heart beat enough to almost break my ribs and block my larynx. You looked so beautiful and I almost fell apart because I could not hug you, could not kiss you. You laughed at one point and your face did that thing when you laugh and all I could do was choke back my tears. You looked around the place and tried on climbing shoes that my old partner forgot. You weren’t even looking at me at first. I had no right to hope that you would care. I knew you wouldn’t. You have said before that you do not dwell on things but move on. I should have taken heed long ago but I failed. And now you so clearly have moved on and I am left alone with my sorrow.
I wish, I wish… The words of regret.
I would give anything to be with you. If only it were possible to switch bodies with Him, the one you are with now. I tell myself that things would be different this time but truth is I would still be me and no amount of body switching would make me the one you want. I have to change myself, not to change into someone else!
I have to believe I will get better for otherwise there’s no point to living. It will take months, years… Who knows? Will you still be there? Will you be single. I have to believe that we might still have a chance because it gives me strength.
But now you are gone. And I still love you.
So I hung my head, and I cried…
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Day 9. Anticipation.
In about an hour or so, She is supposed to stop by my place. I have asked her to because there are some things that I needed to tell her. Granted, that could be done via email or Facebook but I suppose I need to see her one last time. What will I say? Will I be able to hold it together? Only one way to find out…
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Day 8. Yours Truly: Front and Centre (Part I).
Since I have no clue what to write about today, I will use the daily prompt. Standing out in a crowd is a bit of a sensitive issue with me. So instead of screaming into the digital void about my broken heart, let us venture out into the history of how yours truly has ended up in this unenviable situation.
Childhood
You see, as a child, although I had quite a bit of anxiety already, I was fine being in the thick of fun performing in dance recitals, plays, and so on. In fact, like my father, I am a natural extrovert. With the onset of ADHD-PI (or ADD, as it used to be called) things have started to change. Of course at the time I had no idea about any of that alphabet soup, nor did anyone else in my backward-ass place of birth. The way to deal with unruly kids was to pump them full of tranquilisers and stuff them in the room with padded walls. As my attention began to wonder quite a lot, I became more and more introverted. (The running joke/explanation was that I had “deep inner world.” So as much as I tried to concentrate, there was only so much information that would sift through the inattention filter. No matter how much I studied, my marks kept getting more and more depressing and so did I. The level of anxiety though, kept going up and up. That wouldn’t do in my society of birth and so I did the best I could (and my best was quite good – too good, as it turned out) to put up the appearances of normality and to lock down any out-of-place feeling or impulse.)
Present
So how is it that I went from being completely locked inside my mind (more on that in the next post) to being someone with a bunch of friends and even appearing regularly on stage? Well, my medical condition can be controlled. I came a long way from the beaten down sorry waste of flesh to be someone that others might like and respect. I learned to venture out into outside world. It is still difficult to do so completely by myself, without a social buffer in form of friends, but I manage to do it. And every now and again I latch onto something and become obsessed with it (more on that in the next post as well). I started going to a bunch of local comedy shows and eventually paired my love for comedy with my photography obsession. So I got noticed by comedians and became friends with great many of them. These new connections brought me in contact with a lot of new people. It seems many of them liked me but I was close only to a few. Comedians like to party (evidently to keep inner demons buried under drugs and alcohol). I never got into drugs (too level-headed for that) but alcohol has always been fun for me. (Don’t worry – this story does not end in me becoming an alcoholic.) It’s a great dis-inhibitor and that’s what I need at parties. Nevertheless, I have mastered an ability to be alone in a room full of people. I tend to retreat into a corner of my mind. Even when I join a group or a conversation, I never really feel like I’m a part of it.
Then things changed. Through my association with the comedy scene, I eventually discovered improv and fell in love with it. It has so many fascinating sides: from games, to storytelling, to masks. (Eventually, there will probably be a long post dedicated to improv.)
One of those characters is me.
See, this art form requires one to be fully in the moment, to discard whatever else is going in one’s life. I came to improv already with some experience in that from meditating (unsuccessfully) and rock climbing (rather successfully). Improv also allows you to become someone else, a character. Then there are the scene partners. Those that I have met mostly came to this also with all kinds of inner demons. It is such a wonderful feeling of being able to connect with others going through similar feelings and craft something wonderful with them that makes us and the audiences happy. Improv allows one to stand out without standing out. We all wear masks. I have conditioned myself early in life to keep mine on all the time. So through improv there is a secret me that gets to shine while the public known me can recede in the background. Therapy, it seems, can exist in the most unusual forms.
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Remember.
My friends tell me that I have to forget about her. They tell me that I eventually will.
But how can I forget her when she is the first thing that I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before falling asleep?
My mind always races thousand thoughts a minute.
How can I forget about her when she was the only one who made it stand still?
How can I forget someone who makes me forget I need Ritalin to function normally the rest of the time?
How can I forget her when that would mean forgetting her beautiful face? Her tenderness?
But she is no longer with me.
She no longer wants to come over and hang out WITH ME!
She no longer wants to kiss me, be with ME.
Remember. I remember it all.
But oh, how I wish I could forget.
Forlorn Hope: A Diary Of A Broken Heart 