me and october 17/18. 2014

on monday i will call the electroshock doctor.

now that this treatment has become a real possibility, it’s actually becoming harder to tolerate myself and those times throughout the day when my eyes lose focus on life and become fixed on the wall and when i stop thinking about what is going on around me and when it starts to feel like my heart is being squeezed and there might be tears and there might not be tears –

and i go numb. watching myself scatter my breath to make the words that become lies that i am okay, because it is just easier that way.

and if i tell them i am okay enough times…

and that is what they hear…

i must be getting better…

something must be working…

the medicines…?

or my brain has settled…?

who knows? is it a medical miracle? after twenty years all i really had to do was ride it out?

no. absolutely not.

it’s become so difficult to explain myself. so much repetition and i am exhausted like an old man trying to describe all of my ailments to a nurse who is really only kind of interested because it is her job.

i just want to tell you here.

or whisper it to you, molly.

i’ll tell you that i might be somewhat stable – but please remember that i have a very special definition of stability when it comes to me – or that i’m almost always sad somewhere. i’m far down in this depression. way too far. some days i think that even if we found that magical medication – maybe it still wouldn’t be enough. it’s taken many years to get to this place, and it’s just not just a place i would be allowed to walk away from.

there may be no such thing as, ‘sean, come back.’

because i have no idea where that even is. there are no directions. no lights. no crumbs to chew on while i look for that path. it’s fucking foggy. there are screams. the screams are the worst. the worst you have ever heard. and as long as i stay awake – stay away from the nightmares and the sleep paralysis and the sleep conversations and such – that will help so much. so i’ll require supplies that don’t exist in this world. hey, thanks for trying.

*clap. clap*

i am off to take my sleep time medications and afterward i’ll probably be able to admit there will be stars in the sky.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/10/17.

10 Responses to “me and october 17/18. 2014”

  1. Your honesty is wonderful. I know that type of depression. It is possible to overcome. You are not over. You got this. Don’t give up. You are breathing with a beating heart. Your mission and life’s purpose have not been fulfilled. We all have something on an individual level that nobody else can contribute to the world. It is in the greatest of darkness where we are molded into our greatest selves. You got this.

    • there are certainly days when it is easier to believe this. hours of days when it is okay to feel comfortable relaxing into my uncomfortable instability. but then on some days being comfortable means being vulnerable and unaware and i have a bad history when it comes to that – meaning survival – so i almost have to overcompensate by remembering just how bad i am so that i don’t let it take me away.
      i don’t know if that makes much sense.
      but thank you. thank you for reading and for your words. i’m excited to check out your blog. 🙂


  2. I just ran out of nighty night medicine. (Which is why I didn’t sleep last night.) Is there anything funner than being awake more? I think not! Ha…I hope you don’t have to get the ECT, but if you do, then I think you’re either going to a) fry the machine or b) LOVE IT.

    Yeah. I’m kidding. I think you can appreciate my morbid sense of humour! When you’ve lost everything else as it seems, it really doesn’t matter much. In fact, it’s easier to see the humour in things sometimes because you have to laugh! (Eh? A little bit?) And then you get all pissed off again and stuff. But at least for a moment…

    • they turn on the machine and it begins to pop and smoke and fizz and they stare at each other in confusion and awe and begin to clap slowly because i am the first person in history who’s illness has destroyed the fucking machine –
      mid – seizure i wake up and begin laughing hysterically which causes all those in attendance to begin fainting and vomiting in absolute horror and this is a sight that will haunt them for the rest of their lives and they run to turn the machine off and when i wake up i have absolutely no recollection of what just happened.

      possible? 🙂

      • Did you just use a SMILEY FACE? You’re losing it! Not a smiley face……..!!! Heheh… those are pretty funny scenarios though. In all actuality, I hope they DON’T send you to the cooker. You can take back the meds and appointments with docs but once they fry certain nerve endings- they can’t “undo” that. But then there’s the argument- what if that actually helps? Ugh. No way to no until it’s actually done. I only have my Aunt Mary as a reference. Once they gave her ECT, she was never the same (duh)…but you know, like a vegetable. I f you DO go that route, I hope it doesn’t tarnish your writing. I know it’s the pain and depression and “harm” that gives you the “raw, frenetic filter” that you have. Nobody writes like you! I hope that always remains- not the bad stuff- but the talent. Man, what if like, after ECT you become obsessed with gardening or something. And all you think/write about is soil, and bulbs, and sunlight…heheh…(not funny!)

  3. dearest, this topic was what first prompted me to comment here, a lifetime ago — so maybe it is finally time for us to both try something new.

    remember, take care of yourself first — always.

    but remember, mondays are *officially* reserved for bad scary movies, cereal and
    fun-filled conversations about all the things we don’t or can’t have — sex, food, sleep, self esteem, functioning relationships, professional or academic goals, the ability to run errands without panic attacks, etc. — so call the dr. and see… but don’t take all day! 😉
    PS get that damn couch ready, because I’m still coming to help, you defiant, enduring and brilliant creature.
    you always say “we do what we can”, and you *can* do this if you feel like it is time, sean — if anyone is brave enough to get to the other side of whatever the fuck there might be, it’s you. I’ll stand guard to scare the nasties away so you can rest, and promise to save some key lime gelato, just for you — cross my heart. 💖

  4. Reading these words brought tears to my eyes. You have so poignantly expressed a feeling of yours that is hauntingly alike a feeling of mine. I’m so sorry you feel it, but thank you for sharing it.
    Aimee x

    • it’s strange to feel good to know there are others that feel the same but sad to know there are others that feel the same, right?
      thank you for reading, and for letting me know there is one more person on our side. it’s hard. every day. for all of us. take care of yourself and thank you also for what you are doing. 🙂

  5. Support all of your decisions… ECT didn’t help me but wow, no reason why you shouldn’t try it. It turns around people’s lives so much it really does.

    Keep us updated x

    • thank you, friend. i absolutely will. i feel like i’m coming to the end and now it’s just a matter of trying the last few things i can. here’s hoping. 🙂
      hugs to you.

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