Running to Stand Still

Comments about courage notwithstanding, this is REALLY hard. I keep sitting down to write some sort of "yes, there is hope" post about my decision to get help and try to get healthy. But so many horrible things happened along the way that I'm having trouble with the"think positive" aspect of it. I keep waiting for a sliver of light to open in my mind, and my heart, but all I can do is think about (him) and (him) and how I'm still so lonely.

Just me and the pharmacy.

Monkey Mind.

I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I need to buy dog food.
I miss you.

Um, What He Said…

heather, who was undoubtably a catalyst for my recent stay at the hospital, has shared a post that her husband wrote about living with someone who is depressed. Check it out here. That's a good man.

I'm working on a post about the whole experience, but it's complicated. I may need to air it out a bit before reliving it here.

I'm better, though. Definitely.

well, THAT was interesting.

I'm home. There's food in the oven. Calder is waiting for Santa.

Notes from the long strange trip to come.

Happy Holidays!

…and Help arrived.

Thank you P, A, K, S, C, S, S and mostly C for today.

You're my heroes.

I love you, and I'll see you when I get back ;)

Help

Citizen Cope

“That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end. The fog is like a cage without a key.” —Elizabeth Wurtzel

Compounds daily?

How about hourly?

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Day One.

Practice.

Sit.

Frustrated.

Cry.

Remember.

Second Guess.

Cry.

Practice.

Numb.

Cry.

The Long, Long, LONG Way 'Round

So, in between all the sobbing and snuffling and cleaning out of the computer files and wading through wads of used Kleenex (actually, toilet paper, and man, that stuff can rub your nose down to the BONE), and the various other activities during THE DAY WHEN I WOKE UP IN HELL AND THEN GOT A LOT OF REALLY NICE EMAILS FROM PEOPLE I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO TOLD ME TO HANG IN THERE BUT WHO REALLY JUST MADE ME FEEL WORSE BECAUSE EVERYONE IS SO NICE AND I'M JUST A SNIVELING IDIOT, I fell asleep on the couch and had a dream that E.M. rode up to my house on his motorcycle and told me that he was taking me to Dunkin' Donuts. The most beautiful man in the world and an Extra Large Regular. I can't figure out if this is some sort of joke or a preview of Heaven.

E and I thank you all for your kind words.

(Edited because I have about 9 million google searches for this particular movie star and I felt bad for all the poor people looking for celebrity news who ended up here.)

think of your own title, I'm too busy mopping up my keyboard.

My God. The kindness of quasi-strangers is humbling.

Double that.

I am beyond words.

Wasted.

I wanted to do something, for the sake of myself.
I wanted to scream, for the sake of my tears.
I wanted to object, for the sake of my intellect.
I wanted to say something, for the sake of…

shoot. I don't know.

It's one of those days (and sadly, there have been a lot of them lately) where I don't like myself very much. I thought I was made of stronger stuff than this, but it appears that me and myself aren't going to be friends for very much longer.

I have lost friends, some by death, others by the sheer inability to cross the street -
Virginia Woolf

Amen, sister. I just can't cross that fucking street.

well the drugs don't work…

they just make you worse.

(thanks for the reminder mandy)

Macylicious

As close as I can get to holiday spirit right now.

There's green. There's red.

Where I'm Calling From

I wrote this post just over two months ago. At one point in a mediation meeting shortly after that, our lawyer proposed that Matt and I each spend a week figuring out how to extricate ourselves from each other financially. Now, as then, I am still financially dependent upon Matt, and he has been struggling with making ends meet in two separate households. While the photo business has certainly brought in some money, it’s inconsistent and fledgling, so it’s unlikely to solve our problems. I’ve been looking for a job for what seems like forever, but nothing’s happening. This all adds up to a very pissed-off Matt, a very concerned lawyer, and a very fucked-up me. Money money money. It’s a bitch.

When the attorney tasked us with this financial untangling, I made a joke about how it felt like homework; all of a sudden I felt as if I needed to write a paper, or study for a test, or meet some impossible work deadline. My head is buzzing with legal jargon about child support and maintenance payments. My stomach is in knots with the fear that before long, I’m going to be cut off from food and gas and therapy and MY GOD HIGH-SPEED INTERNET. I’m not afraid for Calder — Massachusetts protects him well, and Matt is extremely devoted to his happiness and well-being, but all of the legal ramifications of divorce leave me pretty much in the gutter.

In Mourning and Melancholia, Freud wrote “for the most part…the occasions of loss extend beyond a literal death to include…all of those situations of being wounded, neglected, hurt, out of favor, or disappointed, which import opposite feelings of love and hate into the relationship or reinforce an already existing ambivalence.” Well, no duh. My ambivalence toward this whole dismantling is really bad. I have to snap out of it. I have to protect myself.

But all I want to do is stick my head in the sand until it’s all over. Change is rarely linear, so I might as well start digging south.

Poor me, huh? Yuck. I despise myself when I feel this way. I have friends who love me. I have family who cares. I have access to Buddhist wisdom:
May I be free of anger, fear, and worries. May I not fall into a state of indifference or be caught in the extremes of craving and aversion. May I not be the victim of self-deception.

Maybe it’s time to turn over my fear. I can replace it with the trust that the highest good is unfolding, not just for myself, but for everyone involved.

Maybe these are quotidian details to some, but shedding the pernicious and embracing the present may be all I have left.

See? I just saved myself $150 in therapy.