Will no one help the Widow’s Son? 

I really hate being my own worst enemy. Being trapped in my own head is hell. There is nothing worse than feeling completely alone and isolated despite living in a house full of people. Of family nonetheless. When you’re so depressed that you have become emotionally detached from your very own children, and you fear that not even they are enough to save you from completely drowning in that sea of despair. I’m on the mend, not as bad as I was Monday, thank God I opened up to someone at the last minute….

The lyrics to Runaway Train sum it up perfectly:
“Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a slow torch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning
So tired that I couldn’t even sleep
So many secrets I couldn’t keep
Promised myself I wouldn’t weep
One more promise I couldn’t keep
It seems no one can help me now
I’m in too deep
There’s no way out
This time I have really led myself astray
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there
Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life’s mystery seems so faded
I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just drownin’ in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train
Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don’t believe it
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there
Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin’ at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain
Runaway train never comin’ back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there
Runaway train never comin’ back
Runaway train tearin’ up the track
Runaway train burnin’ in my veins”

I’m “hanging in there” so to speak. But how long before enough is enough and I completely break? Let’s hope that day never comes people. 

Advertisements

Breaking down is  easy…. 

I figured it out! That “weird” mood from before. Manic. It reminds me of my SCSU days when I swore I was bipolar. I miss that. Because guess what folks the depression is back. Yup. Hardcore. Like I’m sure the kids will be ok, they have pleanty of love surrounding them. Who knows maybe they won’t know it is suicide. Just drive really fast into a cliff on a deserted road. An “accident”. *sigh* I couldn’t actually do it. After chickening out of hanging myself back in ’08 I made a promise that I would never do so again. Now I have kids, they need me. In fact, even thinking about harming myself and leaving them motherless makes me despise myself even more. Which doesn’t help with the depression, but hey at least I can talk myself out of suicide. Well that and help from a couple of friends. Apparently at least a couple care. Maybe more. That manic week was fun though. Sort of. Being super “in the mood” with no relief in sight was NOT fun. But it was better than soul crushing depression …. until  next time…

I’m not okay (I promise) 

You know what would be brilliant?  If perhaps someone especially someone from my family would inquire about the state of my mental well being.  Yes the Angel of death is used to such loss,  having witnessed many tradgedies over the years…  But guess what.  This is different.  Yes I begged for death to claim her as his bride,  it was much more perferable than the way she was suffering.  However,  letting go of her means that I lost the only blood relative that I had been capable of opening up to. When making copies of her obituary I wasn’t thinking of loosing her,  only losing a paternal relative.  So I was printing copies I thought,  oh grandma needs a copie… Oh wait….  Nevermind.  I also feel like I botched the euology big time.  I had writers block for the longest time,  and then quickly turned out a eulogy that definitely wasn’t my best work,  but it should have been.  I’m so glad she couldn’t hear it,  for she would have been ever so disappointed that hers,  the one that should have been the best was actually the worst.  I can’t bring myself to  cry.  Can’t bring myself to say out loud the words Grandma has died.  This whole month has been a blur. And nobody from my actual family,  my own flesh and blood has asked me how I am doing.  She and I were very close.  Everyone knew it.  Just because I’m not showing emotion doesn’t mean I don’t feel them.  Because guess what,  I’m not OK.  I don’t even recognize my own reflection…. I’m not depressed,  but I don’t feel like me.  I don’t know who I am but it isn’t  me.  

Narcissistic, Drama Queen…. 

Sometimes I feel like despite my attempts to be a decent human being, I’m actually not. Like not even remotely. I say and do things without thinking of the consequences, which results in hurting those I love. I don’t even know if I know what love is. Other than the love I have for my children, I’m beginning to think I only think I know what romantic love feels like. Even in my attempts to comfort people I tend to mention my own experiences. I’m trying to drag the focus on to me, just attempting to be relatable. Despite having the handful of people that I do have {or did seeing that my stupidity pushes more and more away (and who could blame them)} I am still desperate to be relatable. I want to meet someone who truly understands me. That gets all my quitks, understands my mental states, maybe I did have this and lost it because I didn’t realize it, or maybe I had something close enough and was just too selfish to settle. Then again some days I don’t even understand myself so how can I expect anyone else to? Sometimes I think the harder I try to be a good person, the more I fuck up. The more I reach out, the more hurt I cause. Do yourself a favor. Don’t befriend me, in the end I’ll only cause heartache 

Emotional Roller-coaster

Self Diagnosis is dangerous, this I know. Procrastination has lead me to delay seeking professional treatment, But I do know this, Either I am bipolar like my father, or just prone to random bouts of depression. Factor in new mom hormones and now PMS and I am as my 2 year old would say “A hot mess” Lately I’ve  been a real bitch, and today I came to a realization. It may not the hormones exactly. I am beginning to wonder if I am using my hormonal state to justify being my bitchiness. Bitchy sarcastic responses come so easily to me, but more often than not I bite my tongue due to my hatred of starting an argument, or hurting someone’s feelings. Yet One week a month the filter disappears and “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”