Sunday, January 18, 2015

Prozac Nation

It's been a while since I've had the energy to visit this place.  I always find myself back here though. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

A lot has happened since the Thanksgiving incident. The mystery behind said incident wasn't much of a mystery at all. Just a classic case of being forgotten. There was no apology, of course. No, "oh shit!  I don't know how we could have forgotten to invite you!  I'm sorry. " I find that when people screw up they prefer to just forget it and wish that you would too. I pretty much have, but the next incident that occurred, which caused me to forget it, was much worse. Roughly a month later, we lost a family member, David.  David, technically was not "family" by blood or even marriage, but he was my aunts boyfriend for about 15 years, and held as much, if not more, weight as any family member I've ever had.  It was completely unexpected.  I hadn't even known he had been sick or in the hospital until I finally spoke with my aunt a week before Christmas.  I called her on Saturday that weekend and she said she was back at the hospital and he wasn't doing well. The next day I had two missed calls one right after the other, and I knew.  That night was spent at his house with all of the people we spent summer camping trips and cookouts with year after year. It was a difficult night. It was a difficult Christmas and a difficult couple of weeks after that.

Dealing with death isn't something I know how to do. Maybe no one does. I tend to stuff it down as deep as possible, but even then I know that it has happened.  This was the second loss of someone close in the same year and both shook me to my core. Not just the loss, but both deaths caused me to question everything in my life, and question my own mortality. I'm told this is normal. What probably isn't normal is that it also made me want to pack my bags and run.  Run away from everything and everyone that I know. As far as I could get. I didn't. Mostly because, right now, I can't.

In anticipation of the New Year, I tried to really figure out what I could do to make things better. To make myself better. To make my life better.  I tried to really figure out what it was that I needed.  I thought I had. I thought I knew.  The first couple of weeks were even okay. Sort of.

These second two are going to be a struggle.  It's already started.  I'm not sure if it's PMDD or if it's the aftermath of a shitty Holiday Season or if it's AS, or Bi-polar disorder, or just your normal run of the mill bout of Depression.  I can't name it.  All I can do is feel it.  I tried hard to turn tragedy into something positive.  I've even tried to be social and connect with people. Either the timing is off or I just don't get a response. The people that haven't responded to me are slowly being crossed off my list, and my world just keeps shrinking. I don't even know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.  It just is.

I'm not feeling a whole lot of anxiety right now, which leads me to believe that this is probably some sort of depression. Depression is almost the opposite of Anxiety.  It brings a sense of relief.  You stop being afraid of things like dying because living becomes so hard. Also unlike Anxiety, which tends to bring agitation, Depression brings anger. ANGER. The dark, mean kind. The, I fucking hate you kind.

This will probably pass. It always has in the past. But right now, it truly feels like hell. It feels like being at the bottom of a well. There is nothing around you but darkness. There is no way out. It's cold and lonely. You keep thinking someone will come and you'll hear them yell down to you that they are there and they're going to help you out. But they don't come. They don't even know you are down there and there's no way for you to tell them. Even if they did come, you'd probably just yell at them. Tell them to go away because you don't want them or need them. In fact, right now, you fucking hate them. Or if you didn't yell, you would just stay perfectly quiet until they gave up and walked away. It doesn't make any sense, but I don't think it's supposed to.  Nothing makes a whole lot of sense when you're in the well.

From here I just push through when I have to, or sit still and wait when I can.  There is very little I can do, short of deciding to take anti-depressants again. I can't stop it. I can't even shorten it.  I can't snap out of it, or cheer up, or think positive. I can't just think of something else, or get out my own head. I know all of this, and while knowing it doesn't make it any less painful, it does help in a way. It helps because part of the desperation comes from trying to do all of those things that you can't do. You think you should be able to. People tell you you should be able to. And when you can't, you feel hopeless. Lost forever in the darkness with no end. Knowing and accepting the fact that you have to wait and that you don't have the power over this does help. A little.

Hope, who is still learning..


  1. I'm not going to give up and walk away. Not ever. If I ever don't answer, please don't cross me off the list. Just know maybe I'm in the same place as you, trying to connect, but unable to get the plane off the ground.