Amnesia

March 5, 2013

I am reading a new novel about a woman who has a rare form of amnesia.  She doesn’t remember who she is and she wakes up in an unfamiliar world every morning.  Her circumstances seem quite horrific, and yet I find myself wishing I was her.  Preposterous.  Why do I constantly want to be someone other than who I am?  That woman’s life would be a veritable nightmare, but because she is ill, there are no expectations on her to be or to do anything.  Not to have a job, or support herself.  She barely even has to take care of herself.  That is all the responsibility she has.  Her husband can do the rest.  And I want that ?!  Where is my fight to survive?  My will to live?  My apparent need to be independent?  It’s like I just want to be taken care of.  To be told what to do and where to go.  To be directed as if I am an actor on a stage waiting for my blocking.  What has happened to me that I feel so inept and incapable as a person to be able to take care of myself?  I can pseudo care for T, S, B, and P, but when it comes to me, I want someone else to do it for me.

I don’t know if I can hold a steady job again, or not.  In the past I have met with fiascos regarding my careers.  I work myself to the bone for my employer, desperately looking for approval and acceptance, only to burn out and be replaced.  Then in my recovery, I sit at home and slumber my life away, afraid to get out and tackle life.  In a warped way, I think if I am ill, I won’t be expected to go out and support myself.  What is wrong with me?!  The truth is, I have no one in my life who will take care of me.  I am a single woman with financial responsibilities.  If I don’t work I will end up on the street.

Today I broadcast to my family that I would go online and search for a job.  Is this why I am panicking?  Or is it because I fear I cannot hold a job, and whatever one I get I will eventually lose amidst shame and pain?  Is the writing already on the wall?  Why can’t I just die and be done with this Earth?  I don’t want to be tested anymore.  I don’t want to try and try and try again, only to end up in a pitiful heap on the floor, a doormat for those who are seeking one.  I don’t want to live anymore.  It’s so odd.  I don’t actually feel depressed, or the usual depressed feeling I have come to know and dread.  Instead, I feel inordinately afraid of what is to come.  Afraid I will fail once again and be left struggling in the pit, with the dusty remains of my past dreams for company.  I feel squashed flat.  I can taste the grit embedded in my teeth from being one of the downtrodden for so long.  Why can’t I fight back?  Why can’t I pull myself up and talk to myself kindly, gently?  Encourage myself to take the next baby step, no matter how small.  Forward.  Onwards and upwards.  I need to be talking to myself in a positive manner.  Instilling beneficial ideas and beliefs into my heart and soul.  Nurturing my broken self.  Tenderly piecing back together the fragments of my life that lay scattered haphazardly around my feet, like dry breadcrumbs I feed the birds.  How is it that I know what I SHOULD do, but I am incompetent when it comes to the doing of it?  Am I slipping?  Am I heading towards another tumble into the abyss; the depths of darkness and despair which I have come to consider my only reality?

Another sleepless night.  I walk and move as if I am another person when I am not feeding like a leech on my depression.  I don’t feel real.  I possess a lightness of spirit and mind that is foreign to me, as the times between my bouts of depression are so short lived I forget what they are like, and what I am like in them.  In a way, I experience my own amnesia regarding my happy self.  What does it feel like to be happy?  Who am I when I AM feeling brighter and more alive?  How long will this feeling last, and where do I go at its end?  Down.  Down.  Down.  It’s been several weeks now, however.  It has been since the end of January that I had a sense of feeling uplifted.  How much longer do I get to benefit and bask in the sunshine before I become buried in the putrid blackness of my soul?  Please let this medication work.  I know I am not feeling as high as I have in the past when my burden lifted unexpectedly, and I was free of the chains of my morose and tortured thoughts.  Maybe the meds are taking the edge off of the high, which hopefully means the edge will be equally relieved off of the inevitable low that will follow.

Am I someone who can work and exist in the world like an average person (whatever that is), or do I need to go on assistance and only work part of the time?  Tutoring and holding a part-time job.  Why do I feel like a failure if that is my lot in life?   And is there a ‘lot in life’, or does it all come about by the personal choices that I do or do not make?  I feel somewhat relieved when I write maybe that is all I CAN do.  A part-time job, tutoring, and some kind of assistance.  But does that make me a slouch?  Or am I being realistic?  Can I only manage so much?  Have I pushed beyond the limits of my stamina from years of abstinence from food?  Have the limits of my personal strength been exhausted?  Have my ‘will’ and ‘power’ deserted me from horrendous overuse in my endless anorexic years?  I know one thing for sure.  I won’t meet any eligible men who can take care of me, if that is what I REALLY want, going the part-time/assistance route.  But maybe I’m not supposed to.  I just can’t bear the thought of another public humiliation when I fail at yet another job.  I am just beginning to get the hang of cleaning the house, for heaven’s sake.  How will I keep that up AND work full time?  OK.  My thoughts are escalating and my panic is increasing.  I need to stop.  I need to look at my handouts from the hospital program. I need to read and think good thoughts for a while.

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January 2, 2018

Amnesia.  It is a funny thing.  Not the condition itself, rather the fact that during certain periods in our lives, we all encounter a form of it in some way or another.  Mothers might remember the difficulties they had birthing their babies, but they forget the actual physical pain they experienced at the time, when recounting the details of each child’s birth.  So too, could be said of the surgeries I have undergone.  I can recall the events of the hospitalizations, but the excruciating pain itself, and the knife-like stabs that occurred whenever I moved are thankfully forever removed from my memory.  I think the same applies to my depression.  When I am lost in it, I am swamped with the distorted feelings of hopelessness, self-hate, and the familiar desire to die.  On the other side, however, those feelings too, fade into the recesses of my brain.  All I have to remember them by are the scars that were left behind.  It is the belief that the other side exists, though; that is the understanding that I must adhere to.  That it IS feasible for someone like me, who lives in darkness, to reach the other side where possibilities abound.  That the journey I have embarked on, with concerted effort, will eventually bring me to a truth that holds a new promise.  One that justifies my travels along an arduous path, and makes some kind of sense in the larger scheme of things.  Where the memory of the razor’s edge of depression is sliced away and tossed out into the ether, enabling me to walk out of the forbidding shadows and into the light of day.

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The Slippery Slope

February 19, 2013

Last night as I was driving, I had the feeling that I was on the edge, poised to fall off into depression again.  I was tired and fearful.  My mind was racing forwards and I was imagining all sorts of evils related to my jobless situation.  It was a horrible feeling.  That the precipice on which I stand was about to crumble.  I felt quite powerless and afraid.  I don’t ever want to go back to how I felt in the fall, winter, and into January of this year.  So many years of my life have been lost to illness of some kind.  I would like to think I have left anorexia behind me, but the thoughts and the images still haunt me.  Perfection is a goal I have not given up yet, either, although it is ludicrous to think that I could ever achieve it.  Me…absolutely imperfect in every way.  So hopelessly inept that it is laughable that I would conceive the idea that I could even flirt with perfection in the first place.  But there.  These are negative thoughts.  I must be ever vigilant of these destructive tendencies that I have towards negativity.

Perhaps I am feeling like I am in a funk because I went backwards for a bit.  The days since I last wrote in this journal have not been easy.  The weather has been grey and cold of late.  That also makes it harder for me to function.  I see the greyness and I want to stay in bed.  I had a dreadful “sleep day” on holiday Sunday.  I slept the day and the night away, missing it altogether.  Shades of my recent past.  Today I woke up late, and I have just now got up from an hours lie down on the couch – not actually a nap because my thoughts were racing as I lay inert, but a rest period just the same.  I guess this behaviour makes sense because I am coming off of the buzz of having five sleepless nights in a row.  I hope that is why I feel exhausted, and not because I am heading into another depression.  I would like to get my sleep, and/or lack thereof, under control.  Either night after night I lay awake, unhelpful thoughts bombarding me, or I succumb to a slumber so deep that I don’t gain consciousness for an entire evening and a day.  And sometimes even longer.  It is this up and down existence that is hard to manage.  Let’s face it.  Right now, ALL aspects of my life are hard to manage. The sleep issue just ascorbates the situation.

I have yet to finish my resume, and vacuum and wash the floors.  I’m not following my laid out plan very well, despite the fact I have clearly allocated tasks and chores to do on each given day of the week.  Why do I seem unable to adhere to a schedule of my own design?  The Program showed me that I need structure in my life in order to function…period.  And yet I resist this fact with every fibre of my being.  Why is living each day in a motivated way so seemingly difficult for me?  I know I can do it.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve lived in three different countries on two different continents, and I managed on my own, for the most part, successfully.  Perhaps I am still in the shadows of the overhang of my depression.  What a wretched place to be.  But again, I am drowning in the negativity of my thoughts.  I HAVE been making progress.  I absolutely cling to that belief.  I guess some slips are to be expected.  Just as long as it doesn’t become a long slide down that slippery slope into the abyss of my profound sadness.  How I abhor that slippery slope that I know so well.

I have to go somewhere and phone to get my telephone turned back on again.  That was bad of me not to pay my bill.  No.  I just made a mistake by not paying attention to the due date on my statement.  I am not bad.   Next time I need to be more aware of time and the timing of my bills as they come in to avoid having this happen again. I am totally embarrassed that this has occurred.  What will the person on the other end of the line think of me?  What will I say to try and explain myself?  I hope nobody I know finds out about this faux pas.  I cannot bear to be judged any more.  On the other hand, what kind of a company disconnects a phone just because you are late in paying your bill?  I’ve never missed a payment before.  This seems like a harsh punishment for being derelict in paying my bill once.  AND, I have to pay a fee to have it reconnected.  That really makes sense.  If you don’t have the money to pay your bill in the first place, where are you going to scrape together more money to get your phone turned back on?  It’s hard not to feel like I am one of the downtrodden.  I have been there practically all of my life, but I so hoped I had moved beyond this condition once I had finished the Program.  I guess only time will tell.

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September 17, 2017

The tone of this journal entry has changed significantly, as compared to the more recent ones.  It is laced with negativity and fear.  The feeling that the other shoe is about to drop is as tangible as the shoe itself.  I can almost picture myself looking skyward over my shoulder, waiting for it to fall, and for me to collapse underneath it.  But I can also sense the desperate attempts to rise above these negative thoughts and feelings, as they are occurring.  Only three days have passed since I wrote positively about a memory I had had, but within those three days a shift has taken place.  The pendulum with its perpetual swing is beginning to carry me back to a space I have learned to dread.  A space of darkness where possibilities are vanquished and squashed under the unforgiving heel of a steel-toed boot.

My struggle to overcome contrary emotions and to bask in the light of positivity is tenuous at best; then…and even now.  Although at present I am equipped with strategies that assist me to live on the brighter side.  Mindful breathing, affirmations, and a spiritual connection with the universe all help me remain under the sun of an optimistic lifestyle.  Does the slippery slope still exist?  Most definitely!  However, with the awareness of the choices I make in my daily life, and how they affect me in turn, I am better able to combat the darker influences in my brain and to live a life of peace and happiness.

To Nap, or Not to Nap

January 26, 2013

Fighting not lying down in the middle of the day today…Saturday.  The day seems endless.  It is creeping by and I am dragging myself behind it.  Exhaustion saturates my being like a mop sitting in a bucket of hot, sudsy water.  Even the prospect of writing in this journal created a sense of fatigue that made it difficult to put pen to paper.

There is a veritable mountain of chores that I refuse to acknowledge that need to be attended to.  I must vacuum upstairs, downstairs, and in the severely cluttered area I loosely deem my basement.  It is a glorified storeroom of copious amounts of junk that I am seemingly unable to part with.  I have had to carve four pathways through the precariously piled boxes in order to access the four corners of the room.  Disgusting.  Along with all my other personal defects, must I add ‘hoarder’ to the list?  Just entering the basement leaves me weary, let alone climbing about it to locate an item that has been missing since the turn of the century!

After doing that, there is all the dusting to attend to, and washing the dirt encrusted surface that once was my hardwood floor.  And my never-ending battle with the perpetual clutter that plagues my tiny abode is always a reality to contend with.  Not to mention the Christmas Tree.  It STILL graces the corner of my living room over one month since it was initially assembled.  How can I stand living in such a disheveled environment?  Because I don’t deserve to live in one otherwise.  Wait.  That is a negative thought.  I need to counter it by thinking of a positive one.  The kitchen and the bathrooms seem to be the only rooms that I am able to keep clean.  At least I manage to do that.  Yay, me!

Hey…that comment reminds me that Dr. F told me to focus on the positive aspects of my life, and not to ruminate on the negative ones.  So lets see.  I got dressed today.  Check.  That is cause for celebration in and of itself!  I took care of the bunnies.  Check.  I went through some books and picked out some games and activities F and I can do on Monday.  Check.  And that’s about it.  The rest of the day yawns before me, and I long to yawn on my comfy couch!  But maybe it’s OK to take short naps in between activities.  Now is that Depression rearing its deformed and maladjusted head, or does that action make sense as a reward for doing an activity?  Perhaps it is just fine, as long as the nap is short and I do another task once the nap is over.

Other than napping, the only other impulse that registers with me is eating.  Blast!  Of all things.  Why must hunger plague me at this time?  This is one aspect about being at home that is not good.  The fridge is too convenient!  Maybe an apple is all right to munch on.  I think I’ll take a break, sit on the couch, munch on an apple, regroup, and carry on from there.  And if by chance I have a nap, I will be sure to get up and be active afterwards!

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April 14, 2017

I look back now and I can see the insidious presence of Depression, licking like flames at the fragile structure I had built during my time in the program.  It is not difficult to imagine how sneaky Depression is, and how painfully unwitting I was to its ever present stance in my life.  Napping is one of the signs I need to watch for.  It triggers the alarm to sound that all is not well in my world.

My recovery has been an infinitely slow and often tedious process, fraught with multiple dangers along the way that have completely derailed my success.  Succumbing to Depression’s power has on numerous occasions occurred so gradually that I was completely unaware of it until it held me firmly in its grasp.  At this time, all hope seems lost as I struggle to salvage some part of my soul that has not already been devoured.

I wish I could expound a theory on how to beat depression and keep it at bay until the end of time.  I guess though, like everyone else, my journey is unique to my own experience.  I do know, however, that it is possible to move beyond it, and out of its omnipotent shadow.  I need to work each day on finding what is precious and taking the time to marvel at it.  Whether it be drinking in the glorious view of the mountains that stretch before me when I am driving on my way to work each morning, or in the comforting feeling of having my little doggie and kitty’s warm bodies against my own when we snuggle together at night.  When I can appreciate these pleasurable sensations in real time each day, Depression can no longer find me in its iron grip.

Will depression ever be excised from my life altogether?  Of this I do not know.  I can, however, tolerate its presence in the dark recesses of my psyche, as long as I live for the moment I am in.  Depression feeds on past regrets and future fears.  When I solidly position myself in the ‘now’, I have nothing to do but feel grateful for all that I have.  For all that I am.