What is Wrong With Me

I have been disassociating for two months. This week I have been working, drinking, and sleeping. When I am at work, I am dying to be back in bed.

All of my wounds have healed except for two, which is actually progress. I don’t know what is wrong this week. I had s good therapy session last Thursday.

So I was laying here trying to analyze. What is wrong. Oh yeah I miss my dad. That is s good reason. Then here goes the mind into overdrive… He had been gone since 12/3/15. By now, you should only grieve on holidays, his birthday, and Father’s Day…bullshit what is wrong with you? Grief doesn’t follow a calendar!

True, I know that. You just latched on to a handy logical reason for your recent downward spiral. Isn’t that part of Major Depressive Disorder with suicidal ideations and self harm. There doesn’t have to be a reason. Or everything can be the reason.

It’s Been Forever

I have to first state that if I drive past a bad accident, or hear if a rollover accident, I still think of my father’s fear he must have felt with each rollover of his truck in 2015.

Was he unconscious at the end? Had he had a massive heart attack and wasn’t alive to hear them using the jaws of life to get him out?

Anyway, this iS a multi-topic post. It had been so long since I posted. Bear with me through my vodka Xanax rant.

So when I get home from work,I got comfortable…sans bra and shoes. I fix a cocktail and fall wonderfully on my bed, after walking the dog, fixing a cocktail, and do the dishes.

I end up watching ABC “ national “ news . Mind you this is regular tv, not cable. And I am always left with my mouth open.

I remember being a child and my parents watching Walter Cronkite. I don’t know about Walter, but what I look at as National News for those without cable, I am like what the fuck. They give…..um maybe one minute ( and I am being generous) to each bit of news. I guess our parents and grandparents were satisfied with this since they had nothing to compare it to. WTF. So nowadays if you don’t know shit,!its because you choose to bury your head in the sand.

But back then , as a child waiting for Walter Conkrite to end and wondering “Why my parents watch this?

Now that I am AARP age, I am thinking…”Wow much did politicians get away with, knowing that the public would never know about shady deals and hypocritical acts? I mean, the Washington Post couldn’t be everywhere. Were there really checks and balances?

I am just saying.

I don’t know, was there an internet or pc in every home in 1970?

Ok super off topic, but I warned you. So time for what really prompted me to post…

Suicides. When I hear of suicides, I feel immense sadness. But I know what it feels like to struggle with depression and suicidal ideations for decades. My tornado of feelings are for the families left behind. My tornado of feelings is knowing the struggle…to get out of bed, to be around people, to pretend it’s not all that bad…I mean everyone has problems … the words of someone who doesn’t know a fuck about Major Depressive Disorder or whatever the fuck they decide to call it now.

The most important part of this post is that I understand desperation. I don’t understand why somewhere in me, I must admit I am jealous of those who finally get their freedom.

My next therapy is this Monday and that is what I will discuss. Empathy, the tears I try to keep inside when I hear of a suicide…famous person or not…why is jealousy part of it…why do I think they are brave when most people refer to those who commit suicide as selfish or weak?

I can only speak for myself. You are GD right we are weak. You struggle to get out of bed, shower, comb your hair, go to work, deal with the noise in your head, keep it inside because people don’t get it. Isn’t it ironic people think we are weak? I may not like to say positive things about myself… but hey try to think outside of yourself and your naïveté. I have lived with this for 42 years. I am still here. That is not cowardice or weakness. That is strength.

If there are any old, old followers of this blog. I still self-injur. In little ways. Tearing off a toenail. Digging into my skin until I break the skin and then prevent ring it from healing. Drinking with my Seroquel or Xanax.

If anyone is still out there…this is a lecture free zone. It is for sharing. Knowing you are not alone. My beloved psychologist has taught me coping skills sans a lecturing tone of voice. If you are tempted to lecture, move the fuck along.

If you want to share or just say hey I know what you mean….that works be great.

My Daughter

I only have to make it pass 11/21.  My probation will be over on my new job.  My daughter is my beneficiary.  She needs the money.  My life fuck ups have effected her, despite My best efforts and sacrifices.  

I am so ashamed that she is struggling due to my emotional and financial mistakes.  It’s hard to look her in the eyes.  It’s hard to look in the mirror.

What is the worst

What is the worst? Knowing that a loved one is dying and may have days left, (my uncle) or a sudden death like my father dying in a rollover truck accident.  Both are surreal.  So I am awake, digging into my skin, and drinking; knowing full well that I must get up in 2 hrs and 15 minutes to get ready for work.

Update soon to come…

Alone

I am always ALONE when it matters the most.