Day 33: Scarry Night
“I’m one scarry night.”
I write this in my journal after another night of picking away. I was messaging with Katelan and she suggested perhaps I see someone and take medication, even short term, to become stable. She related a lot to what I shared with her, sharing that I may have depression and a chemical imbalance much like she does. I know I have had depression on and off for years even without being clinically diagnosed. It is entirely possible I have an emotional “disorder” (what a horrible term) due to the fact that sometimes no specific triggers bring on my symptoms of depression. It can make me even more sad for the simple fact that it makes me feel as though something is wrong with me.
And for years I’ve become determined to sort this all out on my own and triumph over it. If I happen to have a “disorder” I’m determined to arrange the pieces into a masterpiece. I believe that a lot of psychological and emotional “abnormalities” are significant spiritually and creatively. So many creative types and artists experience harrowing dark periods, and as painful as they are, I’ll admit I have a morbid attraction and fascination with them. Walking through the dark strengthens your other senses, is a sinister yet seductive teacher, and is prime, fertile material for creation.
I’m not advocating walking into the pit of the dark arts (ayyy Harry Potter reference ;)), I’m just saying…this is me and my experience.
The trouble this time is that the feeling of wanting to die came on strong. I grew nauseous, I wanted to purge. But I felt immobilized, I felt worthless. I felt torn and I had no idea how to move when my body was not whole.
I push myself to go to the gym, perhaps inducing an endorphin rush might help. But I left the gym early after a man who keeps talking to me now, came to offer me unsolicited advice on what my gym routine should be, on a day when I really just wanted to be left [the fuck] alone.
When I woke up, it was early, I really thought I’d have a good day, that I could turn things around. It didn’t quite go as expected, but hey, at least I tried.
The whole “not enough” thing. That no matter how hard I try, it’s not enough. That I’ll never be happy. Feeling worthless because I’m not making my potential energy kinetic. All the glorious depressive thoughts that I try and relinquish but never seem to go away. Le sigh.
The beautiful light that is always reflected.
Nausea from emotional toxins. Gym.
Virtue: making an effort to turn my mood around.
Vice: letting my social anxiety best me and not returning to the gym since this man started talking to me every time I go.
The effort to create structure, even though it fell apart.
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