"Dose me up one more time, and I won't feel a thing..."
This blog isn't really necessary to read for anyone else, it's again more just a vent, or expression of feeling - feel free to skim it if you want, but I don't expect this to be noticed; it's more for my personal use as a diary than anything else. If you can take anything useful from it, though, feel free =)
The meds are a strange concept. I don't like them. I don't like the idea of being dumped on something that's going to change my mind, change who I am... one of my flatmates told me, it's as much about who you want to be as who you are now. I guess that's some form of consolation, something that makes me feel a little better, but the whole concept is very strange. I don't know what to think of it. Right now, I'm viewing it as a necessary evil; what'd I rather - be put on medications, or be half-suicidal all over again? I don't even *Want* to die, I never did, I just felt like I needed to - like it was somehow my duty, like it was necessary. What the fuck.
But aside from those meds (citalopram, if anyone is interested), I've got Valium as well. For when I find myself falling into panic, or when I find I'm unable to deal with things, or getting overwhelmed - just dose me up on numbing medication, and let me feel nothing. Becoming numb to the outside isn't something I like doing, either, but until I get some stability back, I don't know if I have a choice. And part of me, a part I'm utterly disgusted at, just *Wants* to feel nothing. It *wants* to be numb. There's something fundamentally not right about that - sadness is a very poigniant and necessary emotion, and part of life - an important part of life. So why the hell should I keep choosing to dodge it, pretend it doesn't exist, just jump into my own drugged-up nirvana and not feel a thing? I don't like this.
The valium isn't in my control, thankfully. I don't trust myself with it. Not just yet. Not until I can find myself again.
Overall, I guess the rest of the external world is somewhat improving - I've talked things through with my best friend, and I'm trying to work that one out. My ex wants to meet up with me to talk as well, soon. But that doesn't mean that much changes.. I'm still a bit homeless, and still a bit screwed, and still feeling frighteningly alone, at times..
I have my friends and my work, though. They're keeping me alive and making me carry on forward - if nothing else, that's what you have to do. You do NOT just lay down and die, you do NOT just give up. Life is fucking fantastic, filled with beauty and wonder much, MUCH more than any of us will ever see in one lifetime. Life is tragic, beautiful, comical and amazing, life is experiences of brilliance and wonder, of extremes of happiness and sadness and all the stuff in the middle. Life has fast cars, explosions, flashing lights, wonderous boobs, amazingly sexy women and men, and all the quiet things, too, which are somehow even more beautiful - all those little conversations with friends, or the semi-drunken antics of flatmates, or the lovelost foolishness of little siblings, or the silent, loving heartache when you're missing someone. All of these things are fantastic. And humanity, for all its flaws, is made up of excellent and brilliant people.
Each and every one of you that see this are fucking amazing. And if you fucking feel like suicide, too, then maybe just listen to this - no matter how low life seems, you WILL get through things. Depression never killed anyone - giving up is what killed them. Giving up is what kills people - and you might ask what's worth fighting for, or what's worth sticking around for, or why you shouldn't give up. Can I give you all the answers? Not personally. But I *Can* say that life (and death) is what you make of it, and if you dare let melancholy, a fucking disease, get the better of you, then you better damn well start fighting it again. Or I'll kick your god-damn ass. Personally.
This feeling of shitness, it's not *Me*. It's not who *I* am. And if you've got it, then trust me - It's NOT who you are. There's a million and one people who had this, and still thrived. Winston Churchill, Abe Lincoln - but two pretty great men who suffered with this - and yes, it was hard for them, but They Didn't Let It Beat Them. They didn't surrender, and they fought back. And although it was a hard, long, and bloody fight, and although nobody else seems to understand around you, you CAN fight this, too.
So, together, one and all. Let's pick up our weapons and beat this illness into a bloody pulp. It's beaten too many of my friends, and it's sure as hell not going to take me, too.
This blog isn't really necessary to read for anyone else, it's again more just a vent, or expression of feeling - feel free to skim it if you want, but I don't expect this to be noticed; it's more for my personal use as a diary than anything else. If you can take anything useful from it, though, feel free =)
The meds are a strange concept. I don't like them. I don't like the idea of being dumped on something that's going to change my mind, change who I am... one of my flatmates told me, it's as much about who you want to be as who you are now. I guess that's some form of consolation, something that makes me feel a little better, but the whole concept is very strange. I don't know what to think of it. Right now, I'm viewing it as a necessary evil; what'd I rather - be put on medications, or be half-suicidal all over again? I don't even *Want* to die, I never did, I just felt like I needed to - like it was somehow my duty, like it was necessary. What the fuck.
But aside from those meds (citalopram, if anyone is interested), I've got Valium as well. For when I find myself falling into panic, or when I find I'm unable to deal with things, or getting overwhelmed - just dose me up on numbing medication, and let me feel nothing. Becoming numb to the outside isn't something I like doing, either, but until I get some stability back, I don't know if I have a choice. And part of me, a part I'm utterly disgusted at, just *Wants* to feel nothing. It *wants* to be numb. There's something fundamentally not right about that - sadness is a very poigniant and necessary emotion, and part of life - an important part of life. So why the hell should I keep choosing to dodge it, pretend it doesn't exist, just jump into my own drugged-up nirvana and not feel a thing? I don't like this.
The valium isn't in my control, thankfully. I don't trust myself with it. Not just yet. Not until I can find myself again.
Overall, I guess the rest of the external world is somewhat improving - I've talked things through with my best friend, and I'm trying to work that one out. My ex wants to meet up with me to talk as well, soon. But that doesn't mean that much changes.. I'm still a bit homeless, and still a bit screwed, and still feeling frighteningly alone, at times..
I have my friends and my work, though. They're keeping me alive and making me carry on forward - if nothing else, that's what you have to do. You do NOT just lay down and die, you do NOT just give up. Life is fucking fantastic, filled with beauty and wonder much, MUCH more than any of us will ever see in one lifetime. Life is tragic, beautiful, comical and amazing, life is experiences of brilliance and wonder, of extremes of happiness and sadness and all the stuff in the middle. Life has fast cars, explosions, flashing lights, wonderous boobs, amazingly sexy women and men, and all the quiet things, too, which are somehow even more beautiful - all those little conversations with friends, or the semi-drunken antics of flatmates, or the lovelost foolishness of little siblings, or the silent, loving heartache when you're missing someone. All of these things are fantastic. And humanity, for all its flaws, is made up of excellent and brilliant people.
Each and every one of you that see this are fucking amazing. And if you fucking feel like suicide, too, then maybe just listen to this - no matter how low life seems, you WILL get through things. Depression never killed anyone - giving up is what killed them. Giving up is what kills people - and you might ask what's worth fighting for, or what's worth sticking around for, or why you shouldn't give up. Can I give you all the answers? Not personally. But I *Can* say that life (and death) is what you make of it, and if you dare let melancholy, a fucking disease, get the better of you, then you better damn well start fighting it again. Or I'll kick your god-damn ass. Personally.
This feeling of shitness, it's not *Me*. It's not who *I* am. And if you've got it, then trust me - It's NOT who you are. There's a million and one people who had this, and still thrived. Winston Churchill, Abe Lincoln - but two pretty great men who suffered with this - and yes, it was hard for them, but They Didn't Let It Beat Them. They didn't surrender, and they fought back. And although it was a hard, long, and bloody fight, and although nobody else seems to understand around you, you CAN fight this, too.
So, together, one and all. Let's pick up our weapons and beat this illness into a bloody pulp. It's beaten too many of my friends, and it's sure as hell not going to take me, too.