2012-02-28

Being Heard and All That

I can't even make my friends read my blog...

I get how it works: read people's blogs, write thoughtful comments, and hope for reciprocation.

I read blogs. I'd say "at least", but I read blogs rather than do useful things. It's too much work to write my own entries never mind trying to come up with something semi-intelligent about someone else's. So.

I'm on 50 mg of Seroquel and I am tired and sad.

Oh yeah, and I've been ignoring my friends communications for over a month.

I have fantasies about cutting. It's a little like the compulsive eating, except I haven't actually acted on it. Perhaps over-eating is etter than cutting? Nah, honestly from a health perspective I'd argue cutting is better. The long term consequences of over-eating are quite dire. Eating myself sick seems to have become a habit.

Psychiatrist cancelled on me this morning. Perhaps it's just as well since I felt pretty good tis morning and wouldn't have been able to properly describe how shitty I feel overall. My memory is weird like that. If I feel good I remember feeling bad as tolerable, however; when I feel bad there is no end in sight. No end, no end.

Tired, tired, tired.

I went trough and organized my little box of memories this morning. Photos from marriage, tufts of fur from dead cats, birthday cards from family, a totally unexpected Valentine's Day card. I just want to ball up on the bed and turn my brain off. But I can't. Even if I took all of my lorazepam I'd still wake up.

I read an account of depression a while back, and I realized something: people drink or take meds to give themselves enough strength to commit suicide. And here I though I was just weak. Maybe that's the way to do it: a handfull of pills and a bottle of vodka and then hang yourself, or step onto the traint rack. Seems like cheating somehow though, doesn't it? Shouldn't the mere unbearable fucking misery give me enough courage to do myself in?

It's funny, tumblr has decided to censor self harm blogs. You know, because suppressing and hiding this stuff away is a known and successful way of... Wait what? Curing it? Because if you can't see it it doesn't exist?

Yes, I know, other people's stories can trigger self harm behavior. I briefly hung out in an online chat for people suffering from depression where we were not allowed to talk about sex, cutting, or any other type of self harm behavior. I understand that a group like that could amplify rather than surpress the urge to self harm, that a spirit of competition could arise... I have been in group therapy with similar rules. You're allowed to share self harm behavior/thoughts with the therapist only. Group becomes something watered down and shallow.

Hi group. I feel very sad today. You sad too? Sucks man.

I can't help but think that these type of rules are based in morality rather than reality. Sex bad, cutting yourself with razor bad, thinking about suicide bad. Scary, immoral shit should be kept to oneself. Don't come here being gay you may make my kids gay and destroy the sanctity of marriage.

We all know ideas are contagious. You've seen Inception, right? In reality you really don't have to go within a dream within a dream within a dream to plant it, you just have to present it right. Sometime when I was a teenager I read about cutting and I adopted it. I would have been a totally healthy teenager if that kind of stuff had been held from me, right? I wouldn't have filled notebook after notebook about how fake, manipulative and useless I was.... Right.

I went to the school nurse and the school counselor with my bleeding arms and shocked them into a state of grief from which they had nothing helpful to say to me. I spent time with them in disassociated silence or endless monologue. I had so much forward momentum that I was unaffected by anything they might have said. I can't remember a single word though, except a lame why which I couldn't answer because if I did my fakeness would become obvious.

Yeah. Helpful. Right.

It's helpful to hear other people talk about their struggles. Yes, it's triggering when I feel bad. But a real, honest conversation gives more because there is hope when someone has hurt herself and wants to stop, and tries to figure out why she did it and how she can prevent it. Pretending like it didn't happen is not to road forward here.

Anyway. Who cares, right.

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