Rollercoaster of Bullshit

Right now I am feeling everything and nothing. From rage to total detachment; I have no idea what I’m feeling or not. The confusion I experience with this is suffocating me tighter than if a snake was wrapping itself around my neck, squeezing until the lights go out. It sounds ridiculous, right? Now, imagine going through this on a regular basis- I mean, really, how does someone not know how they are feeling? What kind of mind fuckery is that?

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Credit: Akira Hojo

I am over all this up and down, rollercoaster of emotion bullshit, but these were the cards I was dealt and now I have to fucking deal with it.

There is no such thing as “normal”, I’m aware of that, yet it is something I crave. I want to be able to wake up and have an understanding for why it is I feel the way I feel. I want to be able to do something I love without being weighed down by the mass of dismay that keeps me shackled to a bed. I want to have a real reason for the darkness.

I hate this goddamn depression and all the additional problems that arise with it. To end this dismal post, I don’t believe in suicide. (note: no need to worry about me on that front). It’s not the answer for me, and it will never be, but I fucking understand it.

 

**If you need help, or if someone you know needs help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255. Lines are open 24 hours, every day, for free and confidential help.**

Cutting Corners Doesn’t Work

Not only did I cave with smoking cigarettes to the point I was on the verge of buying two packs a week, but my drinking had increased significantly, too. It’s annoying as hell because I know for a fact that a cigarette and a drink are just a quick fix to bigger issues and there are healthier ways to manage stress/depression/anxiety, so why do I continue to go back to the things that only hurt me in the long run?

I could dive in to the innumerable amount of information around the web, or in the books, and post a research paper on why, but I am going to keep this blunt: I am either too lazy or too mentally weak to continue in the effort to push through to do things in a healthier manner.

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Source: Jordan Whitfield

It gets to a point where I am sick and tired of all the work and I want my results when I want them with no more waiting. Truth of the matter is things don’t work that way. I know that from my own experiences and witnessing it happen with other people that I know.

I cannot continue to make these shameful excuses to help me sleep at night while I’m cutting corners. That being said, I haven’t had a cigarette in almost 48 hours, same with booze. I’m not perfect but as long as I make the effort I should be fine.

If you want something done correctly it takes time to do it right. It doesn’t matter if you’re building a house, becoming a doctor, working on your mental health, trying to lose weight or build muscle; things take time if you want it done correctly.

I need to learn more patience because all this haste is setting me back. Starting all over again, time after time, is worse than making gradual improvements, but that’s just me and those are my thoughts.

 

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

I’m still going at it with this depression nonsense. I stopped taking my pills for a few weeks because they made me gain 20+ lbs in 6+ months. The pills are so strong and if I don’t eat enough (enough meaning a whole-fucking-lot) I feel sick to the point of throwing up (I threw up twice this weekend due to not eating “enough”). Being without my meds altered my mood drastically. My boyfriend convinced me to try taking half a pill, that way I can have something rather than nothing. I thought I would be fine for a while without them, but it didn’t take long for me to feel all the anxiety and dark clouds rushing back.

I’ve been back on the meds for a few days and even though I need to up my food intake (there goes my jeans), my mood has also improved again (which is a total plus), but I don’t want this making me gain more weight.

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Credit: rawpixel

People ask me, “Why don’t you just change your medication?” or they say, “You should change up medications to see what works for you.” The thing is I’ve done that before. Not only do I hate feeling like a fucking guinea pig, but last time I changed up medications to “see what works for me” I ended up with worse depression and it gave me a new symptom (paranoia; that was fun) that only made my thoughts darker than I thought possible.

Meds are no fucking joke.

They are scary to me.

The options I can see are: I keep taking the meds that really help me feel better emotionally and mentally, go to the gym and try maintaining the weight as this point, since losing it will be difficult as hell, or switch up medication and run the risk of having it fuck me up mentally and emotionally like it did before. The way I look at it is I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

It’s just fucking frustrating, I feel so stuck. Why can’t things ever be simple?

Rolling with it


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I’ve written about three or four different drafts, but I can’t seem to figure out what I really want to say. I sit around and stare at the screen, or a piece of paper, for hours, hoping my words will come to me as they once did, but I found myself bottling everything up again.

The problem is I have no idea where to even begin. I know there are people out there who would/will say to start anywhere or with any topic, I’ve been one of those people, but it’s not as easy as it sounds right now. I just have so much going on and I can’t hit the pause button. I want to go back to a few months ago and say what I need to say, do what I need to do, but it’s too late.

 And now I’m rambling. Awesome.

Guess I’ll roll with it until I hit a wall.

If I’m being honest with myself in this moment in time, I’m feeling pretty lost. My love for writing hit the back burner, I want to read books to distract myself, but I don’t know what I want to read. I want to talk, yet I don’t want to share my feelings. I’m finding myself hating everyone, again.

I’m a hot mess with depression and my insomnia is back.

Is it too much to ask to not feel so engulfed with depression and uncertainty?

It looks like I’m done for now.

No Point to This

I haven’t been sleeping well (thanks insomnia), I had to put together games, make gifts by hand (glue guns are the devil) and make gift bags for a friend’s bridal shower. On top of that work has been complete shit, depression has been beating me down and that’s not including the migraines I’ve been experiencing.

I’m so mentally exhausted right now, it’s such a bitch and I feel like I’m going to explode on people soon. I feel my temper becoming so short and as much as I try to tame it, it feels as if I’m losing my grip on the reins.

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Credit: Cristian Newman

All this bullshit has not only kept me from writing and reading (I’ve been way too exhausted for the two things that really help ease my mind), but it’s making me resent everything and everyone in my life right now. I am getting pulled in different directions and I can’t catch my breath. On top of that I am always doing something for others, but when I need to think of myself and what’s best for me I somehow become the bad guy. I guess the saying is correct, if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile.

I’ve said it before and probably even wrote it somewhere around here, its okay to say ‘no’, I just can’t seem to take my own advice.

 

Anyway, I’m rambling/venting at this point. There’s no real point to this post. I simply needed to get this off my chest before I scream at work.

 

Day 4: Cigarette Free

It has been four days since I’ve had a cigarette. The rougher parts are passing, hopefully. As expected, I’m still craving them and I’m more irritable than usual. I’m feeling myself becoming more secluded so I can avoid releasing all this aggression onto someone who doesn’t deserve it. Just because I’m not letting the chemical doused tobacco destroy my lungs anymore doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole. I will say this; I forgot how much of a challenge it is not having the crutch of a cigarette when things are difficult to deal with.

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Credit: Luther Bottrill

I have to stick to the positives. My breathing feels a hell of a lot better. I don’t feel like I have additional weight on my chest and I haven’t been randomly coughing. No longer having the disgusting cigarette smell on my fingers and clothes are a huge bonus.

I really can’t pick this habit back up, again. I say it every few years, but I need to make the effort to stick to it this time around. The statistics are there, the horror stories are there, the death count is there, the personal problems I’ve encountered from smoking were clearly there to sway me from ever picking one up again.

…stupid addictions…

On Full Display

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I have no bed sheets on my mattress. Clean and dirty clothes are scattered throughout my bedroom. It feels like I haven’t slept in days. After ten minutes of cleaning, I had to stop. The mental exhaustion was setting in. It was 9:50AM when I finished the three fingers of pinot Grigio. Not even a cigarette helped to soothe me. Even the thought of taking a shower makes my body ache. The numbness is becoming all consuming. I feel like a scared, lonely child, sinking deeper into the darkness. All I want to do a sleep, but that’s only a quick fix. Now I just want to leave my house and disappear with nothing but the tank top on my back. This is my depression talking, it’s on full display. It thrives in turning me into this weak, little bitch, wallowing in random sorrow. I’ll fight it again, but for now I’ll take the L. I need to sleep. Even if it’s for an hour. I need some kind of relief.