writing.translation.photo
Being completely unable to decide anything is one of the more annoying depression symptoms.
Sometimes it makes me have a panic attack in a store, unable to choose between a blue jacket and a green one, sometimes it makes me turn down a chance for a better work position, and sometimes I spend all day unable to figure out if I’m going to go to a concert by one of my favorite bands I brought ticket for 3 months ago, or give up and go home this evening.
Me: Buys a tone of books that have ‘romance’ as one of the genres every time there’s an anxiety attack (seeking ‘comfort books’ like cheeseburgers).
Also me: Gets genuinely surprised and disappointed when plot/romance balance exceeds(on the romance side) 70/30 and characters can’t stop thinking about sex… (like I thought I was buying something else).
I also complain about cheesy covers and titles. But then keep buying fantasy, sci-fi, and historical romance books anyway. And stuff them into my brain like gauze into bleeding wound.
It took me ridiculously long time to realize that I always have unexplainable bruises not because I’m clumsy and bump into things, but because I’m scratching myself to bruises.
I only wish I could stop doing it in front of people and at work.
Though if I wasn’t going to work I probably wouldn’t be scratching.
I’m on a dark dark loop where I can’t stop feeling strong resentment towards people for having it easier than me (not some random people, but someone right in front of me, in almost the same circumstances, doing what I can’d do and having 3 times less obstacles while doing it), and then resenting myself double for feeling that kind of resentment. I shouldn’t be looking into others’plates. Even if they shove them under my nose. But damn it sucks.
It also sucks that I can’t even vent without feeling guilty about it and am back to crying in bathrooms.
among the stages of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction therapy’, there’s this very distinctive stage of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction about bookstores’.
it comes after the ‘reading flaffy fanfiction about coffee and/or writing’ and when things are pretty damn awful.
it doesn’t even really matter what fandom it is.
(it could be an original fiction for all I care, but people for some reason don’t publish fluffy therapeutic fiction unless it’s for children. Or at least I haven’t seen it.)
I laugh like a maniac. Louder and longer than necessary, in many cases. And when I do I often ‘float’ outside my body, and get a little scared watching myself laugh because it feels unnatural, and like I can’t control myself, and like I try to laugh too hard because I’m either afraid I’m not doing it right or that it’s going to be the last time.
Me, sitting up an saying to myself in a stern no-nonsense voice, practically biting out:
“And now I’m going to sit up, and take my medicine, and go brush my face and wash my teeth and go to bed and not think about all this mess at all!”
…and I can’t even talk myself down without sounding like and idiot. True story.
Sometimes it takes me a really long time to realize something.
Recently I’ve finally really understood the mechanism behind the everyone’s notion to tell people that ‘it’s all in your head’, ‘you’re the one who has to save yourself’, ‘you just need to change your mind set’, ‘you’re the key to your own happiness’, and so on and so forth, I can’t even remember or the major examples…
It’s quite obvious, really. We tell this to people so that there can be no notion that there’s a responsibility on us to help them. If we make sure that everyone believes that they must be able to save themselves from the inside, and not expect help from anyone else, no one is going to blame us from doing nothing. And we don’t need to feel guilty when people who needed our help lose their fights, we then can only say that they didn’t ‘want to try enough’.
And when we <i>do</i> decide to help someone, we then can be praised as heroes who went beyond anything that could be expected from us.
Fact is, sometimes some of us really fall into situations, in context of mental health or otherwise, where there’s nothing more we can do ourselves to help ourselves. Sometimes people drown and they can’t be the ones to pull themselves up. And while other people are not actually required by anyone to help them, it would be great if they at least stopped blaming it on those who are in trouble. Telling a person with serious metal health problems that ‘they must be more positive’ or ‘stop being depressed or autistic by changing their way of thinking about things’ is like standing on the ground above a drowning person and shouting ‘it’s your problem that you don’t even know how to swim properly, just do better’. Yes, some percentage of people will still have strength to float or swim ashore, and it may even work for them. But it’s <b>not</b> for the spectators to decide who can or cannot do it.
This pattern of behavior that equals to saying ‘I’m not going to help you, but I’m going to save you by telling you that you just have to save yourself’ really disgusts me. If you can’t/don’t want to help – no one forces you, be on your way. Just stop using people who are suffering to boost your self-esteem by pretending you’re saying something wise and helpful by telling them to stop hurting.
My mind is falling apart and I sort of want to write it somewhere on a wall in big red letters because, hello, cliché, and because I’m really not good at screaming.
My very sick and boiling mind graced me with a colourful (and easy to understand, I hope…. but I’ve been very wrong about ‘easy to understand’ many times before) and very stupid (I’m allowed to have as much stupid as I want this week, so if you don’t get it, stfu) metaphor to describe how I’ve been feeling. So I’m going to just dump it out here. Because I need to dump out at least something of all the things I made myself keep in.
Imagine. Something is bringing you to an orgasm. Without you having much control over it. But it’s persistent. And it brings you closer and closer, and harder and harder, and just as you think that you’re going to get your release, you realise that you are physically unable to. And won’t be able to. Never. It’s not a denial game, and there’s no one who is doing this to you, no one who is in power to have mercy. You’re alone and your own body is torturing you. And it all has nowhere to go. So it almost breaks you apart, and since there’s nowhere to go it sort of settles back down, slowly. But after it get’s low enough, it starts to build up again. And now you know how this is going to go. And you dread it.
Imagined?Â
Now imagine doing all the things you do on your normal day while feeling like that. Walking, working, talking, smiling.
Good?
Now replace reaching an orgasm with wanting to shoot your own brains out. Because they are burning inside of your scalp and have nowhere to go. And there are destructive thought that attack you if you drop your guard for a second, and there’s screaming, vomit and chaos. And it’s all inside.
It always amused me how easily we accept that we live in a world where ‘depression and suicidal thoughts’ are listed as a side effects of the medication which you take against the depression and suicidal thoughts.
It’s a small example of a big world-standard pattern, but I hope some will get what I was trying to say.
can’t quite decide if I want to sleep 20 hours a day or to stay up all night
I also feel like I’m starving 30 mins after I eat, and then don’t want to eat anything, but still feel like I’m starving
Fascinating.
all I can say at this point
I’m simply not stable enough to handle people who are not stable enough to handle the fact that I’m not stable
too many worlds colliding and it makes me sick from the very inside
all I want to do now is stare at walls full with dry tears or curl up somewhere and hide or escape to outer space
I can’t really be surprised by all the hate, when everyday I see the ‘majority’ of people being excited about and loving things filled with meaningless violence, gore, and hurt… (I’m not saying games/books/movies make people violent, I’m simply saying that perhaps when most of your acquaintances saying they are ‘in love with them’, it’s sort of a big fat warning sign… when you see them not question themselves why they enjoy watching violent and abusive things done to other beings.) But damn, sometimes it’s just hard to want to live in this world when you get your head out of the sand and look around once in a while. Personally, I had to learn 5 languages and travel to the other side of the globe, just to be able to see ‘more’ at all times, to see as many good sides as I can too. But damn. It’s hard. All this nasty stuff about humanity… is all too hard to unsee.
I kind of remember that there were times, long long ago, when all you had to do to stop being a mess was to get tired of being one. I miss those times dearly.
Keina Daria 