Believe

I don't believe in salvation.
I don't believe in a father in the sky.
I don't believe people can be entirely selfless.
I don't believe people can be entirely selfish.
I don't believe that everything happens for a reason.
I don't believe in money as an escape.
I don't believe in soul mates.
I don't believe in myself.
I don't belive violence is ever the answer.
I don't believe politicians.
I don't belive in the devil.
I don't believe in Hell.

I do believe in truth, even though it hurts.
I do believe compassion is the answer to everything.
I do believe in respect.
I do believe in body, mind, and soul as separate but connected parts of people.
I do believe in love.
I do believe in friendship.
I do believe these little white pills are going to make me feel better eventually.

Y'all Gon' Make Me Lose My Mind

In one week I will be in Mississippi. I can't even imagine how good it will feel to be away from school and snow. I have two big exams tomorrow and I am having such a difficult time focusing on what I am studying. I am worrying so much about my GPA. My roommate is blaring some hard-core rap music right now and as much as I try to pretend I don't like rap, I still have a side that appreciates good rappers. I especially like hip hop artists that are actually saying something soulful, but I can't deny sometimes I dance to the shallow stuff about money, hoes, and drugs. If it's got a good beat sometimes I have to. I am trying to avoid complaining about how terrible I feel. That is all I blog about these days, because depression has consumed my life. It has changed me, but I am still the same person. I still enjoy a good laugh and some rediculous rap jamz. I had a good weekend, but you wouldn't have thought so with how terrible I feel today. Kristin and Dawn came up and we were treated like royalty at Soaring Eagle. I have never had valet parking and door people catering to me. I liked it a lot. I gambled away five dollars at the casino, but it was fun and worth it. I spent the evening with a cool laid back guy I met through a friend and it was nice to have someone to show me around and how to work the different slot machines. He was around 6'4" though so the guy checking our ID's was giving us a hard time about the dramatic height difference between the two of us. We all stayed up until 6am, which I was not too thrilled about considering I knew I would spend today cramming for my two hardest exams that are both tomorrow.

I was reflecting on my birthday, since it is this week, and I started thinking about my birthday last year. I had so much fun with Kristin, Dawn, Leslie, and Cristina. We stayed up so late on a school night making shirts for Dawn on Winterfest Court and going out to eat. We didn't do any schoolwork that night. I remember talking about how much things were going to change, and now a year later, I don't think I could have imagined where I would be. I wouldn't go back if I could, though. It is strange, because I have felt so terrible with everything, but it has changed me so much and i don't think it's for the worse. I think I have matured tremendously in one year, and I like it. I feel like I see much more truth than I used to. I realize I still have so much to learn, and i will soon enough be reflecting on how much I have changed from this moment. I don't think you ever stop changing throughout life, which is very frustrating, but interesting to me. I guess I will always be confused, but who cares?- I don't anymore.

A Gift?

I think depression can be a gift, because it strips away all of the fake and shallow everyday routines and exposes the truth. Not everyone can handle the truth. It is dark, lonely, and painful, but it is all there is. I have always been aware that many people do not critically think their life through. I also knew that I never settled for habitual, meaningless actions, which is strange because I struggle so much with change. I don’t think I realized how few of people actually live thought-out, purposeful lives until I discovered my need for meaning in my actions recently. I am experiencing an existential crisis, because everything I believed in has failed me. I used to believe that people were such amazing creatures. My therapist says I “put people on pedestals.” I always have, and I still do to some degree, although the depression has definitely brought out a pessimism that makes it hard for me to hold people so high. I have done that with pretty much anyone older than me whether they are worthy of it or not, parents, family, friends, and boyfriends (that is why my relationships never work, because we are all flawed humans and I have a hard time accepting boyfriend’s flaws as well as revealing my own). With this newfound pessimism I am starting to realize that maybe everyone is not that much more qualified than I am to assert opinions. It is heartbreaking, because I feel like there is less to strive for, but exciting, because I am beginning to realize I have valid opinions on a lot of things too. Age is getting to be less significant the more I learn. I have always admired humility, and I still think it is a sign of maturity, but I realized I was trying too hard to be humble. I am human and I feel slighted sometimes, I feel deserving sometimes, and I get jealous. Those are all immature emotions, but I don’t think many people outgrow them. Realizing that I will never know it all, I will always be confused about a lot of things seems very depressing.

If I asked people “What is the meaning in your life?” The only legit reason I would get is for other people. I think as humans we really only live for each other. People might say they live for their spouse, their kids, their family, their friends. Does anyone ever really want to live just to live? I mean, there are some advantages to life, considering it is all I know and not everything is bad. Is there really anything bad about not existing, though? Everyone is so afraid of the thought that they fantasize about the afterlife. There are honestly people who think that as a human race we do not need to worry about things like global warming or war, because God will save us all in the afterlife, and this life doesn’t matter. That is a terrible way to think, because this life is all we are given that we know of. Living in the moment is essential, but so few people do. I have such a hard time just existing with depression. Coming to the realization that there is not meaning in most anything I do makes it hard to keep going. I have been learning so much from constant questioning. Questions like, “Why am I going up these stairs? Am I really going to do anything important when I get to the top?” takes me to a whole new level of thinking that many people are afraid to face.

I can’t stop thinking of this famous short story I read a month or so ago, “Bartlby the Scrivener,” where Bartlby stops working and doesn’t do anything that he doesn’t feel like. He answers “I prefer not to,” to everything without offering explanation. The story ends ambiguously after Bartlby’s death when the narrator reveals that he heard Bartlby used to work at the dead letter office and he quotes, “Ah Bartlby! Ah humanity!” The ending has been interpreted in many different ways, but many believe that the epiphany the narrator experiences is his realization of the insignificance of everyone’s individual actions. My professor interpreted it to mean that the author was saying that as humans our actions are insignificant. He explained it like this: Bartlby used to work in a place where letters were stuck. People actually took time to send out a letter and they never knew that it did not reach the person. Do we ever know if our “letters” reach the “person?” Are we blinded by our intentions that are overshadowed by results or lack there of? Many people cannot handle thinking about why they do what they do. Why do you wake up and go to work everyday? Why do you go to church every Sunday? Why do you smile when you are not happy? Why do you laugh when something isn’t funny? Why do you talk when people aren’t listening? Why don’t you listen like you should? The list goes on. If everyone thought their actions through so thoroughly, then I think the world would be a better place and everyone would appreciate life in the moment, instead of waiting for something great to happen to them, and then realizing on their deathbed they didn’t do anything. I would rather have my breakdown now, than a midlife crisis, or depression on my deathbed. I think this type of critical thinking and self-evaluation is a skill that will not just vanish even when I feel happy. Depression changes you forever. As awful and hard as it is, it really can be a gift. My fairy tale world has been shattered, but the reality I am finding is forcing me to mature in a way I could never have imagined. What kind of world is it when age is just a number and depression is a gift? I call it a real one.

I Hate Titles

I am sure everyone is sick of hearing about how shitty I feel, but too bad, because I am losing more and more lifelines everyday. Today one of my friends was like "Oh you're not better yet?" I wanted to scream, "no, Im not better yet. What do you expect? I don't think I can get better." I know it's just a need for an increase in my medication, but it takes over my mind and makes me feel like things will never change. I know things HAVE to get better, but I can't help how I feel. I am still lacking joy. The conference was a success this weekend, I had a nice time with my family, I had a great workout today. I felt acceptable during all of those things. I know I should feel good, but I don't. I haven't even looked at my homework still, and it is 11pm on a Sunday night. That might sound really irresponsible, but I don't care. I don't feel good. I took a break from feeling sorry for myself tonight and went to see "Vagina Monologues" with Beth. It was a great show. I knew two of the performers from World Peace Initiative, so it was really cool to see them acting as powerful women. The show really helped me feel better, but feeling better did not last. It never does. The show helped me to feel empowered and helped me to laugh as well. They did a portion on domestic violence that was really intense. It really got to me, because it was based on interviews with women from Pine Ridge, which is the Native American reservation that I have been to three times now. Being able to put my own experiences on the reservation with personal faces really made the monologue more dramatic and just gave me an awful feeling in my stomach. It was powerful.

I am having a hard time with people in general these days. That is tough for me, because I normally love people. Everything about everyone bothers me and I feel so alone. It's like no one can save me. Everyone is trying, but I feel like most people are giving up. They know that can't say anything to make me feel better so they don't say anything. Then one of my other friends was like "Don't put on your happy face for sprng break and any other time you meet people, because that's what has got you into this mess. You have been trying to be happy for other people for too long," I can't help it. I don't like people worrying about me so I try to act normal for people that are not close enough for me to explain things. That usually drains me more and leaves me feeling worse. I hope I can handle being a people person and helpful on spring break. I really don't want to dissapoint people, especially my friend that invited me that i met on my trip to California. She has been telling people I am "cool," and then I'll show up being all depressed and dissapoint her. Not to mention, April is in charge and I definately don't need her to stress out because of me. Agh I hate how I feel. I hate everything right now. I wish I could sleep a few weeks until my medicine starts working or something. Midterms are next week and I can't focus on anything. i can't even write for fun tonight, and that is all I have been doing when I feel so bad lately. I keep feeling like everything is pointless. I begin writing and I am like "nothing is worth writing about. It is all the same, another depressed writer. Who cares?" The only thing I can do is sit here on my computer listening to music, and even that sucks. I feel bad not doing homework, but I just want to sleep.

I don't even have anything worth blogging about. I don't care, because it helps to distract me and helps the 2 people who actually read this understand more of how I feel. I wish I had something deep and insightful to say, but "Crawling in a hole and never coming out" is not well thought out advice to survive life, but that is all I can suggest to people. I hope everyone else is feeling better than I am, because I am thinking anything has to feel better than this, but I might be a selfish asshole who can't ever appreciate what I have... and has never had any real life or death problem in my life. What should I be complaining about? Unfortunately, it feels like everything.

Depression

I am sick of lying here cold,
lifeless, and without hope.
I shiver, but refuse to grab a blanket.
I can’t move on my own-
I can’t move alone.

My heavy head barks orders at my body.
It doesn’t respond from the paralysis
despair has caused on the weak flesh that imprisons me.
My dry eyes do not produce tears
and my shattered heart doesn’t bleed one drop.

I just stare at the ceiling that seems to remain
unchanged as the floor spins around me.
I don’t trust my vanishing points anymore,
because everything is an illusion.
Reality only exists in my mind,
and my mind destroys me more everyday.
Reality is crushing me heartlessly,
screaming, “see you in hell.”
It is like an angry child, protected in a cloud of selfish innocence,
crushing an ant without second thoughts or remorse.

Reality is angry, but I fail to comfort it.
I look it in the eyes sympathetically.
I try to embrace it in my arms,
but it beats me mercilessly to the ground
breaking my bones and spirit in one,
because mind and body are merely
two dependent parts that die together.
I am broken and dead,
but still breathing.

I lie there cold,
lifeless, and without hope.
I shiver, but refuse to grab a blanket.
I can’t move on my own-
I can’t move alone.

The Highlight of My Day

The Highlight of my day came when I read a small article in USA today about polar bears. I have always had a soft spot for the creatures, but it made me smile. I even laughed aloud when I read the last quote, because I can picture some stereotypical zoologist talking about first love experiences like an expert while wearing some type of safari uniform and sporting a Grizzly Adams beard. Oh how I love the thought of it!

Love Hurts for Memphis Polar Bear
***A Short Article from USA Today

Cranbeary, a 5-year-old polar bear, faces 10 weeks of recovery time in a cage away from her exhibit at the Memphis Zoo after an amorous hook-up with a visiting polar bear went bad, zoo officials said. A male polar bear who was trying to court her apparently pushed her offa 14-foot drop while playing this week, mammal curator Matt Thompson said. Crabeary had surgery Saturday to insert two steel plates and 26 screws to repair a broken leg. Payton, a 3-year-old male, is on loan from the Brookfield Zoo in Illinois as part of a breeding program. This may be both bears' first romance, and it got a little awkward, Thompson said.

I suppose the other highlight was when the nurse told me at my appointment that she could tell I was feeling better, because I looked healthier. I felt a sense of hope for the first time in a long time, because I now know that things are finally getting better.

More Pessimism

I am at a breaking point, but there is no need for concern because I think I am actually already past it. I am beyond caring or even making any effort to break down. I am just existing without a purpose and without feelings of joy. The worst part is there is nothing that can be done to feel better except wait. I am waiting, but it is getting more frustrating everyday. I thought I felt better somewhat today. I actually got six hours of sleep which is a little more normal than 4. I only woke up once in the night and was able to get back to sleep fairly quickly. I even took a nap which ranged anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. It is hard to tell because it takes me so long to fall asleep that I don't really know how long I sleep. It usually takes me an hour to fall asleep for a short nap, and at night it takes an hour to get to sleep if I stay up really late, but way longer than that if I try to go to bed at a normal time. I was feeling fairly normal today and pretty tired. I decided I would go to bed at 10:30 and wake up and study for my math quiz, because I function best in the mornings. I stayed in bed trying to sleep for an hour and a half and then was still wide awake. I decided I would take a shower so I could sleep later in the morning, since I definately wasnt going to fall asleep anytime soon. So here it is, at 2am, and I am wide awake yet extremely tired. I just feel so sad and it is a hopeless state of sadness. I try to think of happy thoughts of things that would normally make me feel better, but I am drowning in pessimism and I can't find solace in anything, anyone, or anywhere. It gives me a stomach ache thinking about it. Speaking of which, my apetite has been very strange. If I had the energy to work out I am sure I would be losing weight, but I haven't worked out all week, because I am so tired that I get dizzy with any sudden movement. I went to the hottub and sauna with some friends tonight really looking forward to relaxing, because my back and neck has been killing me. I felt really dizzy iafter the first two minutes in the sauna. I felt like a loser, because I had to leave after such a short time. It was embarrassing. I feel like my head has taken a life of its own and I have no say or control over it and it just feels weird and screams at me throughout the day, but I don't understand what it is telling me.

I have exhausted my life lines of people to call and e-mail. At this time of night, most normal people are either sleeping or drunk...neither of those options will help me feel better. I guess, that is where a blog comes in great. I can just complain about things to an imaginary audience, and if people don't like it then they don't have to read it. It is just a way for me to vent some of my suffering without feeling like a burden to anyone. I almost feel like I could go to bed right now, but my roommate will be back from the club soon, and I know that will just make me feel awake. I am going to wait until I am more certain that I will fall asleep, because lying there for so long just makes me feel tense and then I really can't get to sleep.

I am hoping this weekend to catch up on homework and sleep, but of course I said that last weekend and all I did was mope around while accomplishing absolutely nothing. I am having such a hard time, because all I do anymore is feel sorry for myself and like no one understands, but then I realize I am feeling sorry for myself, yet I can't cheer up or look on the bright side. It is a viscious cycle, because then I feel bad that I am feeling so sorry for myself. I just want to complain to everyone, because no one understands what is going on. It is not something that is easy to bring up to people who think they know me so well, so I find myself reaching out for a lot of people outside of my everyday support system who do not have anything invested in whether or not I am happy. It sucks though, because it is a big risk and it is tough to tell how people are going to respond. It's kind of a lose/lose situation, because it's like I can either keep it to myself and feel terrible and lonely, or I can tell someone about it, but then feel terrible because they don't know how to respond. I just keep waiting for some sort of miracle. I guess, it's not as bad as it sounds, because time is flying in a weird way. It's like I feel so awful and like there is no way I will ever get better, but then yet another week has passed. I guess it's just my way of numbing myself to get through it quicker.

There was an article in our paper about a student here committing suicide after years of depression and how serious it can be. It warned students to get help. I don't know what I would have done had I not gotten help. It is hard enough getting through it with help. I am still struggling to get through everyday. I can't imagine where I would be without doctors and therapists. I really felt for this kid. The obituary had quotes from his dad about how he loved working on cars and always kept his promises. They talked about what a good kid he was, but how he always struggled with depression for years. I really felt for the father and the boy. It seemed to come at a time when I really didn't want to see something like that, but maybe in this moment is the only time I could really express the proper sympathy about the situation, not that that benefitted anyone considering I never met the kid and no one that knew him would care what I thought about it. I just felt more at peace that I could express sympathy instead of fear. I think I always responded to people with depression or those who attempted suicide with fear, but that really is not the proper response. I was just sad for the boy and his family, but not afraid. It is really silly to be afraid of depression and feel fear after a suicide. I have always felt fear after I learn of a suicide. I think it was fear of what I couldn't understand. I was afraid of the world for it could cause such pain in people. I was afraid of what the final moments were like when I would wonder if they got afraid or changed their mind. I still have a little fear when I think about the last few minutes before someone committs suicide, but I think most people are so exhausted by that point in time that they don't feel anything. I guess, that means it is good that I still have enough energy to feel a slight discomfort at the thought. It lets me know I am still alive to some degree.

I just took a break to chat with Danny across the hall. I feel a little better, because it is so lonely staying up so late all of the time. My roommate just came in too, so I guess I should get ready for bed for a second time. I don't know what I want to do this weekend. I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I think I might finally be a little drowsy. I think I'll try to sleep like a normal person. That is really all I want right now.

Writers

went to hear an author speak today. I had not heard of him, but my roommate had to go for a class, and I am always down for hearing a published author speak. It felt so good to be in a room full of writers. I absolutely LOVE writers. They are all so strange and introverted. I feel like I fit in, as long as I don't have to talk about writing. I just like to sit in a room full of them and listen to their pens scribbling on their notebooks. I watch their tense bodies slowly relax as they allow their hearts to bleed upon their paper creating a beautiful, messy piece of art. If I had to be stuck somewhere without anyone to talk to for eternity, I think I would pick to be in a coffee shop surrounded by writers.

I have always been hesitant to claim that I am a writer to anyone, but especially to other writers, because I have such high opinions of them. It makes me feel inadequate to claim the title, but really a writer is just someone who writes regularly…so yeah, I am a writer. I might not be a very good one, but I love it.

I think anyone can write and become a skilled writer with practice, good feedback, and good writing teachers. I was getting more confident about conferencing with other writers from my conferences with a local author last year in my Independent Study Writing class. I loved doing that. It was so intimidating, but extremely rewarding. I would sit there shaking as she would analyze my every word and ask me questions about personal meanings. I would nearly have a breakdown, but I loved it. I miss doing that so much. I don't have anyone to conference with anymore, and I am too intimidated to join the writers group here until I take more English classes. I feel like my writing is getting worse, because I don't do it enough and I don't receive feedback anymore.

I couldn't help but notice in the author's essay about his trip to Auschwitz, that he showed so many signs of isolation and depression. He talked about God in both his essay and the excerpt from his novel. Both his essay and novel were incredibly dark and depressing and showed signs of isolation (big surprise, another cliché writer that can't function in the regular world without pills). I enjoyed his dark religious references, probably because those are the only ones that ever feel real to me. I have never been one for the cheesy "oh we are all going to have wings and sunbathe on clouds," type of thing. He wrote about God with certainty though, which surprised me with his depressing style of writing. From my experience (which is not the only way to experience things), depression and religion can't go together. I just don't see how they could. The inability to feel completely happy without seeing that gloomy cloud following me, waiting to pour down, is not an acceptable way to feel according to most religions. Shame and remorse is encouraged for not appreciating things, even if biologically a person just can't feel good. I really enjoyed a part from his essay where he talked about how basically writers are losers and can't excel at anything else so they write, because they don't know any other way to find meaning. He had a soft voice and I loved listening to him, but my mind was not functioning properly due to my lack of sleep and new medication. I could not think like I normally would, but I noticed how I enjoyed his voice. He was a gruff looking man with a stereotypical black fleece sweatshirt. I liked that such a sweet voice came from a gruff man.

I have been writing a lot with all of my sleepless nights, but it is not much of quality. I think that is good, because it shows I don't have much to be afraid of losing. I have this fear that once my mood starts to stabilize that I won't be able to write anymore. I think that is a common misconception with writers, or any artists. Those crazy introverted writers…how do they make it through the day?

I Think I See the Flashlight?

The past couple of weeks have been really tough, especially the last week. I don't remember the last time I felt quite that low, but what made me feel so low is that I remember feeling like that for oh so long. When I say that I felt depressed, I feel like that term is overused and has so many stigmas attached to it that it doesn't help people to understand. It doesn't help that for so long I blamed myself and felt guilty for feeling so low. I would feel bad, because I know that I am pretty fortunate. I felt like an asshole who doesn't appreciate what I have, everytime I felt depressed. I always felt like I had to put on a happy face and stop feeling sorry for myself, and that takes so much energy and leads to me feeling worse. This week it got to the point where it was so bad that I stopped caring. I didn't feel the need to pretend I felt good. I didn't sleep much all week, even when I had the assisstance of Tylenol PM, although that is the only way I got up to 6 hours of sleep, which was a miracle compared to what I had been getting. I think it was good that the depression finally broke me down so that I had to stop pretending. My therapist thinks it has to be biological and I have an appointment to start anti-depressants on Monday. I still do not feel myself today, but I have been working out whenever I can this week, because the hour I would spend working out was really the only hour I would feel good every day. I couldn't do homework this week, because my mind was racing about everything. That is why my therapist thinks it is biological, because I have had no catastrophe that would be causing me to have such a restless mind. It is just happening. I have been moping around feeling sorry for myself, and I know that I am doing that, but I can't help it. It seriously was just too draining to do anything but listen to music and write. I would try, but it was too much. He also thinks that it is kind of a depression that works in cycles. It is on for a few weeks off for a few, but there is always a cloud of gloom, even when I feel happy. He said that is really common amongst people who suffer depression, that they can be happy and laugh like everyone else, but even in the moments of joy they know sadness is not far away and as soon as they stop laughing they feel it.

I think it is worse to feel like I have a lot of people supporting me, but still feel alone than actually being alone. Talking to people this week was a nightmare. I don't think I felt even a little better after talking to anyone, in fact most of the time I just felt worse. It is frustrating, because most people do not understand and their solutions for me are not adequate. I have heard so many things that make me feel awful. The number one thing I heard from people was to stop thinking so much, as if I can just tell my brain to shut down and go to sleep. When is thinking a bad thing? I am sure some of the greatest thinkers had many sleepless nights, not saying that I think I am a great thinker, but I do think it makes me a better thinker by experiencing this type of sleeplessness. I would rather be fully aware of what is happening to me so that I can be with each moment for a while, than just let things happen to me because I make quick decisions out of fear or because it is what everyone else wants for me. I have done that for far too long. I also received a lot of pitty, which is not what I wanted either. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, because that makes me feel worse, since I am aware that I do not deserve it.

My therapist said that the reason so many people have a hard time understanding mental health problems, especially depression, is because they like drama in their life that they can relate to, and for many people that is the type of drama that you can see on TV. The drama on TV is exciting for a lot of people so they like having dramatic situations that can make them feel like their favorite tv characters. Depression, however, does not make much of a TV show. Someone lying around all of the time and staying up extremely late doing absolutely nothing, does not make for a good TV show. It is actually rather boring. I felt like I was on another planet when I tried to explain to people inside of my support system about how awful I was feeling. I do not even know that I can put it into words. I think I am finally starting to feel a little better, enough to hopefully study for my psych exam tomorrow. I still feel gloomy, but at least I feel okay. I feel like I can focus a little better, and although i still feel sad. I do not feel as angry at everyone, which is a start. I get angrier at religion and religious people everyday, which is not good, but I think maybe it is a step towards healing from all of the things I was trying to deny.

I am looking forward to Spring Break. I am going to New Orleans with a Habitat for Humanity group from Siena. I think that will be really good for me, but I hope I am emotionally strong enough to help others in a month. I hope that anti-depressant kicks in by then, because I think that has the potential to really do some good for me. Maybe it will wake me up spiritually or something like that.