My mental state: a confessional?

I had deja vu today. I thought to myself “I really hate it when I am this anxious, I wish I could just go back to being depressed, at least then I could get some sleep.” and then I realized that a mere few weeks ago when I was feeling particularly depressed I thought “I wish I could just go back to being anxious, at least with anxiety I don’t feel dead inside.”

I can’t go through another 5 year bout of this. I don’t have the energy.

With that said, I don’t want to post this shit on a Facebook status update because honestly, there is less of a chance that anyone is gonna click the link to come here versus seeing it in a status update. I know it isn’t anonymous and that someone will see this, but I can’t afford a doctor and I need to get this shit out of me. It is poison. The problem is, people ask me to talk to them about it and I clam up. I can’t verbalize it right now because it is raw. Maybe when it is over and I’ve begun to heal a little, I can go back and reminisce about this awful feeling, but now, I can’t.

A few family members might come around the blog to see what’s going on. A couple friends might. If anyone does, though, they chose to read it, it isn’t like I made them listen to the incoherent ramblings of an over (or under, for that matter) stimulated brain, just spewing out emotion vomit. I know I am a burden when I am like this, but at least here, the people reading it chose to read it. At least here I can “say” what I need to say and cry about it without feeling like I am wasting anyone’s time, without feeling weak. I know I am weak. I dont think I can handle starting this conversation and watching the other person’s eyes glaze over, or the person listening perhaps checking their phone while I fall apart in front of them. Here I can get this rot out of me uninterrupted.

I don’t know why I am still justifying to myself why I am writing this. Oh well, fuck it.

So, here I am.

Anxiety makes me shake. I have nightmares. My guts are upset, I jump out of my skin at the slightest sound. My heart rate is irregular. My mouth is dry. My skin feels like I have bugs crawling all over me. I cant make a decision. I am confused by regular every day things. I have no desire to be out of my house, yet I feel guilty if I don’t participate in life. I am easily enraged by simple things. My feelings get hurt easily. I overreact to the slightest things. My senses are heightened to the point where a running fan is deafening and the sun is blinding. I can “feel” germs on me when I touch anything in public. I can almost “see” them. I feel nauseated. My breathing is strained, my chest hurts, my muscles are tense. My mind is throwing a million thoughts at me incoherently. I am remembering stupid things from ten years ago and feeling guilt, anger, and sadness that should have long since gone away. I am uncomfortable in my skin, I dread getting in my car tomorrow to drive to work. I am convinced I am losing my mind but at this point, it would be relief if it just shut itself the fuck off. I want to channel these feelings in to artwork but I am too raw emotionally to do so, and when I avoid getting this out of me I feel guilt that I am not creating. I know I am off of my “path” in life and that scares me like a horror movie scares a normal person. I am literally scared witless that I am not fulfilling some purpose that I am not even aware of. It is like failing a goal I was never told I had, just that I had to achieve it. I get the urge to pick at my skin, sometimes my brain tells me to cut myself, like a good bloodletting will release some of these demons. I am flailing my arms and legs on the inside while trying to maintain the appearance of steadiness on the outside, and, frankly, I am fucking exhausted. I wear my masks proudly, cracked, rotted, and decayed as they are, they still cover my rawness.

That’s where I am. Who knows how long I will be here, but that is where I am.

I had the urge to work on some photos today. I had the urge to make a painting. Neither of those things happened because the thought was overstimulating.

So, it’s out there, the darkness has lifted from my soul, only to be replaced with electricity. I go from nothingness to everything all at once. It is overwhelming.

To anyone who has read this far, I hope this helps to explain some of the things I may have said or did, or what something I might do or say in the future. In the meantime, I will continue to try to find this elusive path I’m supposed to be walking.

Peace and love, friends.

Friends.

I love my friends.  I love how they (most of them) are awesome without even knowing they are being awesome.

I’ve had a rough patch the last couple of days.  If you read my post  here or here, that is pretty evident.  Well, today I was off work so I decided to do all that obligatory running around that everyone hates doing, except I was going to awesome places like Old Navy for a tee shirt to print my newest piece on, and to the Starbucks in Target to get my mom a beverage and surprise her at work with it, then on to the art store to pick up mesh for my screen, and then to my aunt’s high school best friend’s house to deliver a shirt I made her. (Confused?  LOL)

Leslie is awesome anyway, but I think today will really stick with me.  I don’t see her or her sons often.  Leslie is the mom to multiples (triplets!) and her oldest son who came in to the world without an entourage.  LOL  Anyway, I was sitting there playing with the boys, they were taking pictures with my camera, and I felt good. For the first time in a couple days, I can honestly say, I felt good. 

Right after I miscarried, being a photo technician right across the street from a hospital, I was getting baby pictures all the time and I was really, really bothered by that.  I mean, we are talking about a girl who used to print for county coroner’s offices, for police departments, etc.  I’ve seen the gamut of disturbing photos.  I was the printer for a creepy man who took “art” photos of old women.  I think you can gather what I mean by “art”… I’ve seen dead bodies, I’ve seen suicides, homicides, gun shot wounds, dead animals, and naked old ladies.  I’ve seen babies clinging to life in NICU.  I’ve seen it all (gee, and I never once stopped to ask myself if perhaps THAT is why I am terrified of death…) but seeing healthy, pink babies really fucking bothered me.  Sometimes, it still does.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad these babies are making it, and I’m glad they’re healthy, but there are times when I ask the powers that be why?  Why not mine?

Anyway, I have been very emotional about it lately because I would have been due soon, for those who did not read the above referenced posts.  I don’t think it is too abnormal for me to be in a poor state of mind right now, right?

 

UGH.  Well, anyway, the former best friend did make a brief appearance as he had some stuff going on in his life and I (of course, and foolishly) was there for him (as much as he would allow me to be), but I had a literal mental collapse over the weekend and … yep.  Dead battery.  Sorry, Mel.  I had a dead battery.  Couldn’t help you with your crisis (for the millionth time in the last three years), but I still want you to be able to come to me when things are bad.  Really? So, why? So I can text you while I am lying in the middle of my living room floor because that is where I collapsed and couldn’t see through the tears and you have a dead battery?  Or you’re driving?  Or you’re sleeping?  Or you’re on the phone with your sister?  Or you’re on the phone with your mother?  Or you’re on the phone with your brother?  Or you’re at a BBQ and drunk off your ass?  I was out.  I was at the bar with my friends.  I got a text from him that gave me the gist of a terrible situation in his family, and as much as it hurt me to do so, I responded.  He needed me.  What else was I to do?  I’m not a monster… but… I had to say something to him.  When he didn’t answer me the other night, I had to say something before he told me that his battery had died.  If I hadn’t said something, he would have never responded.  Why am I garbage?

ANYFUCKINGWAY.  Enough time wasted on that ass.  I went to Leslie’s house, fully expecting that seeing the boys was going to make me sad.  It didn’t.  They are all so happy and so SMART!!  I mean, SO SO SMART!  We played and we laughed and had a great time.  I usually don’t play with kids.  I think kids sense that I am weird around them, so they stay away.  Not these boys.  🙂  It felt great to push this terrible thing out of my mind and just play.  Honestly, they could have destroyed my camera gear and I wouldn’t have cared.  It would have been worth it, just to play.

Yesterday I gave my drug phobia a run for it’s money.  I got a vaccine.  ANOTHER vaccine.  LOL  I’m sure everyone around me remembers the hissy fit I threw over the flu vaccination… well, I needed a tetanus booster.  I debated it for about a week, and I manned up yesterday and I got it.  Suck it, drug phobia.  I will admit, I panicked.  No where near as bad as I thought I would, mind you.  I still needed the pharmacist to tell me that I was okay, but I did it.  And hey, check it out, I SURVIVED!  I should make myself a tee shirt that says “I got the Tdap and survived!”

 

Whatever will my brain do when it realizes that it has been hanging on to these fears for no reason?  Oh, I can’t wait for the day when I can laugh at my brain and eat a fucking peanut.  Eat a peanut while getting another vaccine.  And taking a pill.  Can I ask the dumbest question?  No one will know the answer, but I have to ask this… people with phobias generally tend to have spider phobias, or snakes, or heights, or … NORMAL SHIT.  Why am I terrified of a peanut??  Really?  I mean, I get the drug phobia.  A lot of folks are scared of drugs.  But peanuts?  Come on. 

All right, I know the answer.  I had a panic attack while eating a nut.  Nuts = bad.  I threw up after eating oatmeal.  Oatmeal = bad.  Someone told me that they got sick after eating Chinese food.  Chinese food = bad.  I just barely started eating bananas again, and when I do, I have to convince myself that I’m not gonna get sick.  Yep, someone threw up a banana, therefore all bananas are bad.  WTF brain?

Wow, there was not one coherent line of thought there.  Just the rantings of an overworked brain.  Whew.  I needed to get all that shit out, though. 

 

My washing machine studio.  LOL  Here’s me, coating a screen.  I love screen printing.  It makes you slow down.  You can’t speed up the process, you are it’s bitch, and that is something I need every once in a while.  I need something or someone to slap me down a peg and remind me that I take myself too seriously. 

 

I love getting emulsion on my hands.  I’m sure it’s not good for my health, but whatever.  I really don’t care.  I love the process.  I love getting dirty.  I’m not happy until the underneath of my fingernails is stained cyan.  🙂

 

And there is no real reason for this to be here, except that I love how creepy I am in it.  High key, bitches.  Yeah.  So, that’s that.

 

OMG people are gonna think I’m on crack.  Okay, enough random babbling and visual aids.  Time for this slaphappy girl to pack it up and head to bed. 

But seriously, though, how creepy is that photo?

Don’t judge me.  LMAO