Tinsel and blinkey lights signify something?

So after the trip that I’d been planning and dreaming and hoping about and for, I've hit a bit of a black patch. A long stretch of black ice on my road trip of life. 

Bit of a laboured intro’ granted, but hey, it’s my bloody blog, all-right?!

The trip to the US was wonderful. All those decades of US flavoured pop culture had finally come to pass as I soaked up as much of the foods and drinks as I could. Not too much though as I am still paranoid about my weight and current stop start of exercise and training. I hate any sign of flab about my person, even the flab that isn't really flab and is just well, me.

But still, a house of pancakes? Yes please! A big bowl of ‘regular’ nachos?! Oh yes yes yes! 

A chocolate bar that makes much of its protein content? Go on then!

much of its protein content? Go on then!

During my trip, I also managed to keep taking my meds which was something I feared forgetting but thankfully, I didn't. The trip itself was an anti-depressant all on its own so if I had I needn’t have worried that much. However, all good things must reach their climax and so mine is and was no different.  Now I have a bit of rest to, sort of, look forward to. I say sort of because sometimes when I have no overall structure for a day I can become a little bit lost. Daft really, as I do have things to be getting on with, Uni’ work, clearing up my space, going to the gym, running, etc.

Thing is with Xmas looming large, I’m starting to get that fear instill itself in me. 

The one I had around the beginnings of the start of all of this, the fear that became manifest in losing a job, a marriage and well, a sense of hope I suppose. It crept in during an Xmas do this past week, near the end of the do as my mind began to weigh up, not the possibilities of a good 2014, more the worry of what was to come in 2014. 

Great way to end the year and an even better way to stat one. Deary me!

Xmas for the last few years has always been a bit fraught. Myself and the former wife used to argue bitterly around this time of year, usually on Xmas eve. It seemed to be a saving up of all the bitterness and pettiness that had infiltrated our minds over the course of the past year, ready to explode just prior to the day of festival and  giving. So lately, Xmas does render me somewhat cold and unwilling to indulge. 

The adverts especially make me shy away. The forced family togetherness and false sense of merry making with a hastily gathered crew of extras and walk-ons for a super market keen to show off, hey, we know family, come shop with us and buy into it as well.

But then, maybe I’m just jealous. Jealous of something that was taken from me. I should be in a family; wife, baby but no. Not anymore. It's gone, over before it had really even started.

So yeh, it is all so much humbug for me and if anything more of a reason than any other time of year to hide away. Stick on some films, catch up on TV, get some video game playing in, plug in some tunes and hope for the best.

Not very Xmassy I know but hey, with a blog called, Don’t Let me Get me, what were you expecting?

Still, in keeping with the theme of the month, have an Xmassy shot from my recent trip.

Happy Holidays dear readers!

Hope you both have a good one.

An appropriate song

... the bad chemicals in his head...

For those of you who may struggle with what depression is, a quick guide.

Illness: We all know what this is; a virus, an upset of some kind in the gut, some malady or other that will bring us down. usually the only good thing out of this is time of work/school.

Serious illness: Something far more sever, could maybe be life threatening depending on the illness, it is nonetheless something that could have an effect on your life.

Feelings: Up, down or in between and as mixed as a bag of melted jelly babies, these chemicals dictate mood and to some extent actions resulting from them.

Now then, mix Illness and feelings together and you have depression. Depending on the severity of it you can usually throw in serious illness too.
And that, dear reader, is depression. 
A feelings illness.

Stay with me, let's just breathe

Phantom relationship pangs

When my granddad had the bottom part of his leg removed he used to talk about it still giving him pain despite it not being there anymore. I subsequently found out that this was due to something called, phantom pains. The brain still perceiving a part of the body was still wasn't there anymore when it wasn't and giving out pain signals. 
I have had something similar but allbeit in a more gentler way. Certain songs or certain scenarios, no matter how small or brief, have lately had the ability to instill in me phantom happiness. For instance, I was in a shopping mall the other day and outside, it being the season for it, there was a big stall of pumpkins. For carving and eating and all the sort of thing. As soon as I saw it I recalled when my former, during my absence rehearsing for a play, had carved a small pumpkin in readiness for Halloween and its subsequent visitors (trick or treaters) and from its scooped out innards and made a lovely soup too. Outside that stall on a rainy Sunday morning that memory had left me with a brief happy memory quickly followed by a sticky sadness that refused to leave until later in the day. 
They pop up now and again, these memories, fooling me for a nano-second or so that I'm still in a happy warm loving relationship. A phantom relationship.
Of course, now that's it's Autumn both my natural inclination to and illness driven sadness seem a lot more at home that it was whenever the sun was blazing. It also makes to harder to leave the house and get up from the safety of my duvet. But I guess that's another blog for another time.

Sleeping black holes

"I feel terrible"
After being interrogated by Darth Vader on the cloud city of Bespin that's what Han Solo uttered just before he collapsed in his cell. 
Right now I feel the same.
This week has been a fug of over-sleep, scant eating followed by flurries of toast eating and tea drinking and much reading. I don't know what it is but right now I feel drained and empty. It's as if my inner core has gone with nothing to replace it except a cold draft. 
The bones and muscles are there but only thanks to gravity and tendons but little else. 
My spirit is tired and limp. Apart from when taunting me that I'm a fat git, of course, whenever I eat something it deems unworthy. 
Everytime I eat I have this tendency to rub down the sides of my abdomen, almost as if i'm trying to rub off the potential fat from what I'm eating before it has a chance to settle. The stupid thing is, I know that I haven't really eaten enough calories to put on weight yet that doesn't stop the feeling or the thinking. 
What a mess.

I can't recall if I mentioned but I have in my time performed on stage, comedy to varying degrees of success and failure. In the last few months I've tried to get back into it, using my mental health as subject matter in the hopes of breaking down stigmas and in the hope of getting some laughs too. Out of four gigs only two went well. The latest one, my last, a gong type show where you get 2 mins max and then voted on or off depending on the judges vote, went badly. It started off badly and then continued so. I got tangled in the mic lead, forgot I'd asked the audience how they were and then muddled my way through trying to engage with them and then my opening bit about me and mental health which got a groan. A groan!
I tried to make a comment, hopefully funny but no go and before I knew it the two mins were gone and as the lights flashed signalling to the judges to vote I watched as three red light sticks were raised, meaning do one, pal! Bollocks.
I had another gig to come but withdrew. It just wasn't in me and that feeling has been with me since. Was it the gig? Nah, I've had bad gigs before and the following week after it I did manage to go back to the acting workshop that's now back on after the summer break, so I know I wasn't that badly bruised.
True, it did wind me a bit but it's not that. Right now it seems to be something else but I have no idea what. Unless its just that usual black exerting its usual over me. The gym and general exercise has taken a back seat as usual when I'm bad, which of course makes me feel rubbish regarding how I feel and look so it feeds itself some more, round and round. 
But that's the least of it. I really don't have the energy of body and certainly not of mind to even attempt it. 
Tomorrow I have a trip to the University for my induction day of my foundation degree to complete. I've been a mess all day thinking about it. Well, I say that but it's not really the doing or going that is unsettling me its' more the fear that I won't have the strength of will to get up and go because right now I feel like a dead weight, unable to do a thing aside from stuff toast and tea down me whilst listening to music and reading. 
I feel so damned tired.

A week or so ago when wandering through the town, think I mentioned this here, I felt a multitude of memories fly at me and begin to weigh me down, as if walking through and seeing certain places that triggered certain memories I'd been jumped on by a little black puppy dog at each one until my body was covered in them. By the time I'd got to the car I was physically and mentally drained by them all. 
Right now, I  feel the same only doubly so.
My meds are strong, I'm on the highest dose of Mirtazpine and boy, does it ever feel like it. The doping effect is strong which usually means I over-sleep. So me taking the full dose before this event tomorrow I know will potentially leave me in a bad way so I might go for my usual and not sleep. After discussion with the Doc I might also try to breaking it in two and taking the second half tomorrow morning. I have tried not taking it before to help with the no-sleep but with the way I am right now that's probably not a good idea.
(I read recently that not sleeping is a mild anti-depressant which explains why I usually feel pretty good when I've tried this. However, once you get back to sleep back it comes and yeh, I've had that experience too)
Everything right now feels like a damn struggle. Going outside, communicating, doing things, living. I'd rather hides away and hibernate. I feel so damn nervous and skittish to so anything, even playing football is making me think twice. 
Lately, I've taken to drawing little hide-aways made out of felled tree trunks, little homes that wouldn't look out of place in a Tolkien type story. Well, that's what I'd like them to look like but sometimes my imagination can't match up to my drawing skills. But I get the gist of what they're supposed to be even if they don't always look like it. 
Maybe I should get back to drawing again.

Whilst reading, Pink Floyd has been my mainstay with the odd foray into Radiohead, Morrissey and of course the Manic Street Preachers.
What have I been reading?

"If you liked school, you'll love work" by Irvine Welsh, fiction
"Black by Design" by Pauline Black, auto-bio
"Inside Al-Qaeda" by Rohan Gunaratna, non-fiction
"Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Truman Capote, fiction
"Chopper 3" by Mark Brandon Read, non-ficton
"Out of the Ordinary, true tales of everyday craziness" by Jon Ronson, non-fiction

Varied I'll think you'll agree :)

So, what now? Hope this passes I suppose. I don't know what else to do. 
Actually I do, but I can't go there again.

Why does this have to be such hard work?

You don't get a say...

Reading through these comic strips regarding depression, it occurred to me that no matter how boring it has become to me, no matter how annoying it is, how inconvenient it can be, I don't really have that much of a say in when mine happens or even when and if it ends.
Right now, I can't tell if it's become a sort of background accessory to my life or if it's resting until the next time it jumps up and suddenly awakens again. I've had a couple of off days, which I guess is better than a week of it but it's hard to be positive about such an inherently un-positive illness. Trying to come to terms with the very real possibility of this being part of me from now until I do one permanently is hard to digest. 
What of future relationships  That's a laugh, mostly because I can't really see me having any long term ones in the future. The prospect is terrifying. Who'd want to commit to me as I am? The potential passing on of my black gene to and me being black in front of kids wold be an awful thing so I find it real hard to see anyone wanting a family with me anytime soon.
Probably just as well eh?

There's no escape (reprise)

Many moons ago after I'd puffed and panted my way through a fitness test and was about to face a two week training course, one phrase kept repeating itself over and over in my head.
There's no escape.
Being the geeky type and having been mad on Star Wars when a kid, and let's face it part of me still is as a fully grown adult, the phrase is from 'The Empire Strikes Back' and is something Vader utters with wheezy menace at a battered Luke Skywalker on the steps of the carbon chamber in the cloud city of Bespin during their big lightsaber showdown. 
It's something that used to play in my mind whenever I felt I was in a place that I, well, couldn't escape. Lately it has popped back into my mind and this time I think there really is no escape.
My former wife. Yep, her again. Well, her memory.
It's playing a lot lately and I can't seem to shake it not the feeling that I miss her, want a hug from her and also a return to that small town we used to inhabit during our early days together. Simple times during moments of stress I guess. At the moment there is no comfort except in the form of brief memory flashbacks, which also, conversely, make things worse with their past echoes of our time together. And of course, it's always the good times and never the bad isn't it?
What to do? I've no idea. The idea of closure is anathema to me and I hate the term, it being more of an armchair US talk show type term, that, in reality means naff all. 
Peace perhaps would be a better term; being at peace with me and her and the situation as is, but I don't know. Again, I'm not sure where the depression begins and the divorce ends and vice-versa.  
It's all so damn wearing.
There's no escape.

You know you just can't win...

It had started off badly but had slowly come good. Plans to gym it were shelved but I did manage to get out for a little hill run; I'd strained my calf muscle last week, and that went well. I then had to go out and meet a chap who was involved in the local MIND group and see if there were any groups I could join. All good. And then, whilst wandering through the centre I passed a bun shop. Nothing out of the ordinary there, maybe apart from me saying bun shop but it was not ordinary bun shop. It was one in which myself and her visited after a day in that town centre. Soon as I remembered it a domino effect of memories un-raveled in my mind. The Pizza house we went to prior to that and the five cheese pizza I'd eaten there which meant I could only have half a bun as I was so stuffed. This shot through my mind in nano seconds and as I wandered back to the car I felt myself becoming hollow, while conversely feeling heavy, as though the memories were hanging onto me and growing in number making my progress feel slovenly. It also felt as if someone had delivered a Street Fighter Ryu like punch to my spirit. By the time I'd got back to the car I felt drained. It had all turned around within a few minutes. 
Memories eh? Sometimes they can work against you.
Pink Floyd's 'Lost for Words', the tune and lyrics kept going over and over in my mind, particularly the boxer's ten count near the end. It felt as though I was having my own count-out.
Right now I'm wondering if I can make a performance spot that I have tomorrow. That suddenly feels like a big event now rather than the small spot that it is. I've suddenly become un-sure and un-confident when it comes to that now. Yet, it's something I do enjoy doing, even if it sometimes doesn't go the way I'd like it too.
So, tomorrow? If I wake up in the right way, then maybe.

Sleeping Beauty

It feels like Autumn.

Upon waking it felt like it, either due to the drop in temp, the fact that it's the first day of September or the down beat tone of my dream. Or a combination of them all.

It was a dream that involved rescuing someone from a rough sea that was, for some reason, making up the road between two buildings and also contained some cos-play with me dressed up like a Stormtrooper, (have always wanted to do that, either as Boba Fett, TIE Fighter Pilot or a Biker-Scout!). After that I was in bed in a house I can't recall staying in and my former wife appeared. some sort of argument had occurred, the atmosphere between us was strained as sometimes it could be. I'm not sure what it was about but what I do recall was us trying to talk about it and me making her laugh which was something that always broke the tension and is what, I think, in the long run kept us together despite the numerous bizarre arguments we had.

Upon waking, however, I did feel down. Not because of the tone of the dream but the fact that I initially thought it was real and she and I were together. But no, she's not there, as that old Zombies song went.

I like Autumn; the coolness, it's blustery background that soon brings about a change in leaf and sky colour, but this morning was not a good start.

Time for some tea.

I wonder what you're doing now...

I had a dream about her the other night and in the dream, life was as it was, me and her living together, getting on. The big change being we'd got back together. All very nice in my dream state but reality wise, a no-go especially from me. 
Irregardless of that, I do think about her and sometimes, I do miss her greatly.
I miss those moments of sharing; what I've done in my day, the good days and the bad, the moments of frustration at traffic-wardens (Especially today!), other drivers, the journey home, the excitement at my forthcoming course and what it may bring and what it could could mean in the future. My acting classes and how she started the ball rolling with regards to even acting in the first place. 
Now? Well now there's no-one there. Just a sense of wanting to start a sentence with a slight build up of whatever to spill out and then, a sigh of, oh yeh.
It feels like it's only now, over a year later that the divorce is finally sinking in. All that has gone before and during seem to have obscured it somewhat but now, now it feels like, she's gone. Bugger.
I miss her. 
Time will see me pull away from past memories of her, I know but a lingering sense of loss will always hang around me like faint stain you can never rid yourself off from a white shirt. There are 'her' reminders all the time, small, big and minor. Some still that are triggered from something small that quickly roll towards something else 'her' related.
Out shopping, I scan the sweet breads for something on a Saturday morning. 
Waffles? Croissants? I could... no. I can't now. It's a 4 pack. With 'her' easy but now, pointless. I won't be able to get through them on my own and anyway, it'll be too, me and her times past. Coffee? Ground, perhaps some cream? No. That was something I'd have with her, me with my coffee her with her fruit teas, me being the brew master, making both for a relaxed Saturday with maybe some TV catch up or some movie time, hoping that it'll rain so we can stay indoors, cuddle up and not feel a strange sense of guilt for staying in it it isn't.
So many memories that are now so redundant.

Perform a U turn when possible

It's something I have mentioned innumerable times (well I could probably count them but I don't want to), and ti's what drives this here blog. Sadness. Blues. Black. Black dog, whatever you call it or want to call it at the moment, for me, it is near all pervasive.
At the moment I have a real yearning, a very strong one at that, for my wife. I'm watching AC Milan play and all the thoughts about the honeymoon to Italy have come back. Heck, we even went to the San Siro stadium together. She was always gracious in that regard, doing things she might not necessarily want or like to do. 
The biggest one is the memory and image of her. Her absence didn't trigger this current black but it sure has prolonged and compacted it. At the present time this stretch has now hit over twenty months. The longest one prior to that was ten months. Even with meds it's not looking like it's going to go anytime soon. But I digress...
Thinking about her and missing her is difficult to digest at the moment. This could be because I'm having an off day. I woke up late, feeling very tired and sluggish despite the over-sleeping and I still feel it now. This knocked my plans to run of course and now I'm getting uptight about thinking and feeling like a fat git. Experience tells me what I think and what I am are very different but still, mental problem(s) remain.I may know that I'm not but I still feel it. To paraphrase and well known saying, when ignorance is mutual hormones are king.
The feelings towards the x tend to stick around for a while and then dissipate but then do leave a residual smear that can last a long time. Apart from writing this, there isn't much I can do, not even looking at it with a rational eye so I let it hang around, occasionally gobbing off, reminding me of it presence. 
So then, last week I was numb. This week I'm numb, tired and yeh, still sad.
Back to Pink Floyd for me.

Uncomfortably Numb

Nothing really feels the same anymore.
I seem to have reached an odd apex of numbness.
I also seem to have this odd sensation of there being an inevitability about all of this.
At times I used to SI to feel, sometimes to alleviate certain feelings but now even that holds no sway over me.
Just before I mentioned trying to admit myself previously on here, the night before I SI quite extensively on myself, my thigh is still bearing the faded strawberry lines from it almost two months later. Afterwards, I realised that I wouldn't SI again. I'd reached the end. It no longer felt useful, not the best term but I can't think of anything else that fits.
When I wrote before about breaking, it was in front of my mother. 
What set it off? Tipping some veg from a pan onto my plate and it sat in a messy way which for some reason broke something inside of me like breadstick. Throwing a spatula, kicking the cloakroom door, smashing my fists into the stairs followed by much tears, while my mother tried to help me as best she could but getting teary herself, seeing her son in such a state and not being to help him. So down to the Dr's I went, as you may or may not have already read.
And now here I am. 

... but the pain lingers on

Don't make me angry...

Much has happened since the last big entry.

I, again, tried to get admitted, not such luck. In fact when I went to hospital and admitted to feelings of suicide I was placed in a room and left to wait. Six hours and I got to see the ward Psych for about an hour in that time. This led to more calls from the intense mental squad and another appointment with the Doc. During this time I had another big kick off where I just lost it and again, this led to another Doc’s appointment. This time with another Dr, an increase in my med dosage and some contact details for other ways to alleviate this black. 

I think in having another Dr, my main one is fine but has been the family one for years, again, also fine but I guess another point of view helped here. Now I have appointments waiting for me. The Incredible Hulk like period as I went from one lot of meds to another and that week of nothing was awful. I was dizzy, touchy and flew into a rage over anything no matter how small. At the moment all is calm. The higher dose of meds seem to be calming me and keeping the black at bay. For the past month I’ve been busy, working an early doors cleaning job-awful, rubbish supervisor and a work force that rarely showed up, and my other apart time work which I got back to after three months away.

I have also, I think, after much to-ing and fro-ing of correspondence, been accepted onto a degree foundation course in football coaching. Huzzah to that and a half time orange for all of us!

So, right now, things are ok. Being busy has kept it away, in the background. I fear its return but not all the time. 

Oh, and I’m now 40.

La tristesse durera tourjours

This will never end will it? On and on until either I give in or, what?
My crying isn't limited to day to day now. 
I now do it or am on the verge of it in my dreams tool.
I should be so happy but feel so sad.

This sadness will last forever

With the Floyd on and a sad thought this came out...

You  break me when you're with me, but I'm lost when you leave
Up and down round and around you spin me my sunshine you thieve

The ghost of whatshername....

I made a point to burn all of the photographs
She went away and then I took a different path
I remember the face but I can't recall the name
Now I wonder how whatsername has been

Remember, whatever
It seems like forever ago
Remember, whatever
It seems like forever ago
The regrets are useless
In my mind
She's in my head
I must confess
The regrets are useless
In my mind
She's in my head
From so long ago

(Go, Go, Go, Go..)

And in the darkest night
If my memory serves me right
I'll never turn back time
Forgetting you, but not the time

Another linky link and a brief brief

Someone else's battles with it here: http://sunnyspellsandscatteredshowers.blogspot.ie/

Tis damned hot and I'm listening a lot to Green Day and old school punk.

Dreamsville

I had a dream about her again. They are becoming a bit more frequent at the moment.
This one was a bit different from the others I've mentioned. Again , we were together, or back together but later on she became a memory. During this the ability to create a hologram of her from my memories and then project itself in front of me; I could hold her, see her smile talk but not hear any sounds. The longer time when without her the image became more a guess on the part of the machine using my memories to fill in the missing bits and pieces.
It's left me wanting to get in touch with her. To tell her that I do miss her greatly and would love to hold her.
but I know this wouldn't achieve much, aside from make me feel a little better. 
Would I get the same answer? Would I get any answer?
The image never matches does it?
If I wasn't so weary my writing and explanation would probably be a lot better and maybe, garner me a lot more views and readers.
Meh.

Zzzzzzz so many zzzzzzzz

I am tired, I am weary, I could sleep for a thousand years..

Toonz for the start of today

Started off with this... here we go

and then this....

Decree A

Marriage. 
A wonderful thing that can sometimes quickly descend into complete and under awfulness.
Divorce.
As well as this damned black to deal with I also had the above to try and handle too.
This website RIGHT HERE is a good site with info' and support regarding the whole messy thing. 
I hope you don't have to visit it.

The River

...now as memories come back to haunt me,
they haunt me like a curse
is a dream a lie if it don't come true
or is it something worse?

Thanks to The Boss for those words that sum up my dream about her this morning very nicely indeed.
Me and her, back together, in a little basement flat, happy, together. 
Yeh.

This was my last resort

A reminder for me from that Sunday...

“Cut my life into pieces I’ve reached my last resort, 

Suffocation, no breathing, Don’t give a fuck if I cut my arms bleeding,

Do you even care if I die bleeding? 

Would it be wrong, would it be right? f I took my life tonight"

One more time around, might make it...

This album is a me reminder and bring it back memory of the mid-nineties and, when it awoke once more, my depression back in '01/02.
This song though is for me in general at the moment.

Until it sleeps...

"My head's fucked up and I'm in a mess,
too many drugs make me high,
I wanna cause havoc, I wanna die!"

Words from The League which at the moment ring very true for me. 
Since coming off one lot of anti-d's and going on another, walking and thinking has become a task on its own. My temper over the weekend and Monday was like The Hulk with a hangover who's just discovered he's out of painkillers. 
Cd's were flung, things tossed about the place; anything that I bumped into suffered my rage. This all culminated in a big SH on Sunday which left my thigh looking like the death of a hundred cuts. The odd thing is, though, at the end of it when I felt like my  inner rage had been calmed I realized that the chances of me doing it again would be nigh on nil.   have since binned my blade. Looking at the mix of slight, deep, long and small slits on my thigh I also finally understood that this wasn't how people deal with 'stuff'. something which I have never really concluded before in all the years that I have SH'd.
So, next day, after feeling dizzy as and not in the highest of spirits, off to Hospital I  went just like I did back last Oct.
In I went Monday morning and the first conversation I had before mentioning 'it' regarded the confectionery machine. I thought the nurse wanted water so I offered her some of mine. 'Not that rubbish,' she said -odd for a nurse?- she wanted choccy. 'Ok,' I smiled and then told her that I wanted to kill myself. 
Quite an odd way to start my hospital admission day no?
You would think that having admitted to wanting to so something like that to oneself there would be a sense of urgency to proceedings. Which there were. 
Nearly fours hours later I saw the clinic psychiatrist. In total, I was there for nearly six hours, an hour of which was with said Psych'. 
I think the idea is to bore you out of suicidal feelings.
On the plus side, I did get to spend it away from people in a separate room with three pictures of a sunny beach and I did get a sarnie and a tea. 
On the down side, waaaaiiitttiiinnngggg and then a sluggish response from the crisis team. 
Again.  
Last Oct when I'd actually tried to top myself the response was a bit faster but only say, compared to a snail moving on a slight incline as opposed to a flat surface.
So, saw the crisis team the next day and that was ok, a good chat and an agreement that they'd look into other ways to try and sort my big flare ups and send my Doctor either group therapies to attend and/or other therapies available in the area.
We shall see though. They said they'd call next day and so far, nowt.
The new meds haven't really kicked in but from what little difference there is, I'm more sleepy -getting up is like getting up on a Monday when thinking it was a Friday- and my head and thought sin general ,when not in a rage, are kinda, soft. That's all I can write really. 
I seem more emotional than usual too, certain Boss songs do it as does me crying over MSP's guitar solo break in, 'Motorcycle Emptiness'. It is a beautiful bit though. 
Doesn't really tell you the full story but right now I can't. It is very difficult to put into words, the feeling, the dreams, everything. Something is a bit different though but what, I just don't know. At least, not yet.

One more thing that I have realized too is that keeping, 'King of Queens' and 'Frasier' on whilst I am in a sleepy med' induced slumber makes for more view-able and more interesting plot lines and interesting dreams too.
I do sort of recall art of my dream from last night. something about seeing Bristol city in a field sort of stadium like venue and wanting a cider and opting for some sort of Pear cider. This, of course, led me to buy some today. It's more about the partial visuals and the feelings from the dreams and its aftermath more than the dream itself though. Hmmm.

"Black hole, won't you come and wash away the rain, Black hole sun, won't you come......"

St Anger

Right now I am in a bad dark place. The last lot of meds are still making me feel awful, dizzy, restless, irritable. Started the new ones last night and it left me knocked out for over 12 hours. I awoke feeling like I hadn't slept. I can barely type right now or make sense to myself (thank the Gods on high for spell check, all that's gawping back at me are squiggly little red lines), thoughts are self critical and I am doing as much as I can to mentally kick the crap out of myself. Yesterday, despite a good gym session I came home angry and irritable like the Hulk with a hangover. I had to try and do something with it lest I broke something I'd have regretted. So I tried to clean up my space, get rid of things, clean up and make space. I did this and it went well, got stuff done and resolved to continue tomorrow, or rather today, Sunday. Fat chance. Now? Now I'm keen to either a) cut myself up b) admit myself in to hospital, or at least get there to seek some sorta help. but that would mean having that conversation with my Mother, the one I had last year when things were bad and that's not a good feeling to have, the thought of having to explain myself and the darkness inside, having to admit to it, asking for help, serious help. I don't know what to do. My body is tender and tired but inside it rages, angry, irritable and annoyed at, well, itself, me.

Too fucking angry to type now. Cut yer nails you stupid fuck then maybe you could type better.

Balls to it. Whatever it is.

I walked a thousand miles just to sleep this skin...

Raw

My head is all over, kinda like its in a 60's psychedelic video, swaying, warped, dizzy.
As soon as I get up I can feel it, like someone is grabbing and shaking my head like a snow-globe.
Inside I can feel a tightness an irritability wrapped up in nausea silently throbbing away. I'm quick to anger right now, feeling brittle as a frosty spider web and as cold as one too. Remember my older post, irritated by everything, pleased by nothing? That's what i'm feeling right now. I've been off the meds for a week and am due on the new lot tomorrow. More side effects; either way you get them, on/off or in-between and this damn hay-fever is a distraction that is just pilling on the annoyance right now.
The urge to SI and the urge to fling this bastard laptop against a wall and watch it break is strong.
But best not eh? I'd regret it. Must keep it in the now, this bastard hay-fever, itch itch! Like some damned little imp is in the middle of my throat tickling at my throat and ears.
Such eruditeness eh? 
Bollocks.

Hate goodness ... I want everyone corrupt...

Mixed bag dreams

My dreams lately are all over the place, very little tie-ing them together and a bit more surreal than usual. Some might say they were nightmarish but to me it's like a good film in my head. most of the time, my nightmares are based on atmosphere and feeling than imagery. 
Anyway, they were violent and had distinct Mad Max with Prodigy overtone to them. As well as dealing with my gas mask obsessions.
It started off with some fella who everyone was convinced had changed for is violent ways but whenever he went near me would try and choke me, yet every-time anyone saw it they could n't see it Another part of the dream had me battling the Prodigy with a nail gun, afterwards, a big battle that 'we' had won, they all had these gas masks on with eye pieces that were full of neon gassy blue. Throughout the dream it was dark too, like a horror movie that only has daylight at the end when all is done and alls well. No day light in mine but that's good. So yeh, dreams are all over since coming off meds and my head is swimming, or rather it feels like it is as soon as i get up, like my inner spirit level has shifted from left to right harshly. It's an odd feeling.
So, 4am and the birds are tweeting.
What can I cram into my gap in the clouds today?

I 'ear thunder, but there's no rain.....

Distractions from the doggie

In an effort to distract myself from er.. myself. I will now write some musings on sitcoms that I have been watching, either through choice or through a dozy depressed induced sort of non-choice.
So then...

2 Broke Girls

1) What can you say about this show apart from, shite?
2) This show appears to suffer from Liver Bird syndrome, that being people only watch to see the brunette in it.
3) If Kat Dennings leaves this show it'll disappear from our screens quicker than Jimmy Saville fronted 'Top of the Pops' reruns.

HIMYMother

1) Why is Ted getting more cloying, mawkish and annoying the longer this show goes on?
He appears to be in continuous arrested development.
2) Why hasn't Barney contracted some sort of awful STI yet and why hasn't any of the women he's shacked up with spread the word about him being a potentially STI infected slag?
3) Shouldn't those 'kids' at the start of the show be actual adults by now?
4) Marshall, again why is he getting more annoying and punchable the longer the show goes on?

The Big Bang Theory

1) Raj, an insufferable prat or an annoying git?
2) Since being married, why does Howard insist on that bloody awful early 60s Beatles haircut?
3) Why is it that Leonard never ever takes off his coat, especially when indoors and at home?  And why do none of them ever have any sort of lounge-manky-chill-out-at-home wear?

King of Queens

1) Fat bloke, attractive bird, who argue near constantly and put themselves in situations that would end any other relationship? About as believable as me and my happy face.
2) Er.... that's it really. The first one tops anything that could follow. 
Even George Costanza's dad living with them.

Rules of Engagement

1) Claudia from 'Grounded for Life' married to Puddy from 'Seinfeld'?! See King of Queens point 1.
2) Russel, see HIMYMother point 2.
3) That Timmy bloke, why does he insist on calling his boss 'sir' in and out of work?
And, despite having a flat generic English accent, what's with the, 'I'm from South Africa' quips every-time someone says so? Not with that accent broo. You sound about as South African as Russel Brand. Broo.

Phew! I feel much better.
Until tomorrow, of course but still, small mercies and all that.

Not so super breakout

Have you ever played that game, Breakout, that has this paddle at the bottom of the screen and you bat this little ball up into a wall of breakable bricks. The ball bounces around and you sort of direct it up to them to break them down. Sometimes a slot appears and the ball gets stuck between the wall and the bricks constantly bouncing away breaking bricks until it well, breaks out.

This is what it’s like when I get a certain dark thought in my head. Big or small it bounce around causing damage weakening my defences such as they are and this is what it’s been like lately. It had been going well, drama classes, the attempt to get back into some sort of team exercise and games, back to running and the gym. Heck, I even finished, Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood game. But, my mind’s version of breakout has buggered it up. Yesterday, I had an assessment to do. Did I get there? No. Failed again. Just like last year when I didn't go. Frak. My battles are becoming losses with very small victories. The war goes on but boy, am I taking losses.

Sleep is going back to night-owl status with the odd bit of over-sleeping. This may increase due to me being on new meds soon. This entails me coming of the old ones gradual, last week down to one, this week down to none. Bit scary, as I know what may come. Baton down the hatches. Or in tis case, under the duvet I go. The one thing I've noticed about being a night-owl is that the darkness is something I like because it feels as if I can hide into it, be absorbed into it, taken away from life so I don’t have to deal with this head full of thoughts and black.

I’m trying. When its early doors and I’m still awake I try and cram as much as I can, either the gym or tasks, washing clothes, cleaning up, filling out what-ever, shopping; normal day-to-day stuff that I might fail at before. It’s my morning window of opportunity, like a depressive’s worm-hole, a chance to enter a world of do-ability. But be quick because it closes. If yer lucky it’ll open again, if not it’ll be a while until it opens again and then just remembering to clean yer teeth becomes a task on its own.

A week with no meds? KBO I guess.

Or I hope.

I know what's coming

Do I  want to be a dead body or do I want it all to stop?
A question that a Doctor asked me once last year and I think it's the former though some-days I can't tell the difference between the two.
I had a dream this morning that involved me looking at myself in a mirror and realising that my body had withered and my face had taken on a changed look due to my depression in  an Emperor after the dark side had enveloped him kinda way. I knew it was a dream near the end and called myself, silly, before walking up but thinking about it I know why the dream occurred  It's because I do want some sort of visible mark or scar of this damned black, to prove to myself and to prove to others. This is real damn it all, This isn't me being indulgent, weak or overly dramatic and see here? These scars, these marks, this withering? There is it is, right there. Easier for you to deal with now is it?
Or am I trying to justify this all to myself? Frak knows. 
Answers on a postcard to....


This mess of a man

Irritated by everything, pleased by nothing

Listening to the Manics album, this is my truth tell me yours, for the umpteenth time, is sometimes so comforting to me that its like slipping into a comfy housecoat, sliding into a pair of warm slippers and enjoying a nice cuppa all in one. It relaxes me and keeps me grounded better than any pill could. Well, I say that but I've yet to try heroin but hey, you get my point.

These last few days have been pretty bad. The reason? I don’t know. Moments of anger, moments of sadness, moments of tiredness all meshed into one. Every-time I think back to why I come up with no clear answer, all I can recall is it being a feeling that rains down on me and down I go. Sleep has been an odd affair lately too, a bit jittery and panicky. I've now gone back to oversleeping as well, finding it hard to get up and even harder to work up any sort of enthusiasm for anything. I’m on a higher dose again so I’m presuming this is part of the side effects but still, it doesn't tie in with the whole, ‘happy pill’ image at all. 

My irritation is something I’m finding hard to control, mostly at myself it makes an already bad situation just more annoying and it can be over anything too. Being outside, walking, seeing people, silly I know and hell, even now I’m irritated by the very words I’m typing out right now. SI sort of helps but then the last bout of that has left a couple of marks that will no doubt leave scars, which was what I wanted but I am forgetting that in the cold light of day others may spot them which may being more trouble than its worth, possible embarrassment too. Thankfully I rarely show my legs off in public. 

The point is I’m finding it very difficult to enjoy anything. The gym, acting, going outside. It’s all numb to me which is scary as these are the things I used to love and near live for. I buy things on Ebay, things I need by the way… for the most part, in the hope it’ll make me happy, excited, something to look forward to in the post, like a little present to myself but no, it rarely lasts.

It just all layer after layer of sweetness, like adding spoonful after spoonful of sugar to a big pot of the bitterest coffee only I can’t taste the sweet at all. All I feel inside is more akin to a dead leg, numb and unfeeling to all. I feel like the only way through it is to act and keep on acting until something happens and I return to some sort of normalcy.

Where does it all end?

If you’re interested in and want another perspective of depression then may I suggest you try Robert Enke’s biography? He was a German goalkeeper who killed himself after a battle with depression.  I found it a very good but sad read and you don’t have to be a football fan to get anything out of it. I find these reads better than the, I beat depression or, I tamed the black dog type books. They say nothing to me and smack more of a depressive episode rather than someone who had or has depression.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Imagine having an illness called, Happiness. This illness would well, do what it says, make you happy. All days, all hours, happy. Sounds good doesn't it? being eternally happy no matter what.

I mean, we all strive towards happiness don’t we? Whether in the pursuit of a good career, a life partner, a nice home with a family, we all want it, continually asking ourselves, am I happy? Does my job, my spouse, my life, make me happy? It stands to reason then that this happiness illness would be more a gift than an illness, wouldn't it? You’d be the life and the soul of any party or gathering and there would be the problem. You’d be happy when it isn't appropriate, the announcement of the death of a loved one, at a funeral, when the general mood is low, when watching a sad film, when your partner is sad and is looking for some comfort or empathy, happy. Regardless of the mood or tone you’d be a constant ray of sunshine.

‘How are you?’ you might ask a mate.

‘Not the best actually, my marriage is breaking down and I think I am too,’ they might reply.

‘Shame. Still it’s a great day isn't it? You've got to love life!’

How annoying would that get?

Very. Yet that is what faces a depressive, not constant happiness but constant sadness, on and on no matter what the weather, mood or tone, sadness.

Back!

Love this so much.
I know you will too.
All 4 of you out there.
Explanations of depression? GO read.

Hyperbole and a Half!

Makes me teary

I just want

I just want it all to stop.
Can't I just have a day off please? A day off from this constant black feeling buried deep inside, swirling around my mind, always there, always reminding me that it won't leave or give up.
Such a mess of a man

Another nice blog...

...from someone else, right HERE!

Sometimes it comes back…

…sprouting up like little black flowers in the ashes of hell.

Very dramatic I know but heck, I’ve got depression so I’m allowing it.

At the moment things aren’t the best, again. It’s at times like these I wonder how and why I carry on. This week I actually had a job interview, of sorts. It was more a display of fitness knowledge and business acumen in a group of about nine of us. I’ve done these days before and it’s usually, best salesperson wins. This time though, I enjoyed it and got a chance to do some fitness related activity as well as business type stuff. There were six slots and out of nine of us and I thought, ‘Yeh, I should get at least to stage two.’  Cue canned laughter. Fat chance son! Glimmer of hope? Not any more, smash grind stomp! There it goes into the ground gone once more. 

So another one passes on by and I took it badly. Very badly. That coupled with everything else lately left me upset, fed up, frustrated and angry. My inner blood God demanded action, demanded a sacrifice and it got on alright. My former scratching post, my right thigh, took it. Annoyingly it wasn’t enough, the cuts and the lack of blood never going far enough, which made me more frustrated so I cut deeper, deep enough to scar and deep enough for my leg to smart considerably when I was done, the rage finally satiated. Blood wise a pathetic little tear of crimson slowly dribbled down. I couldn’t even do that right. After that I led down staring, thinking everything over, thinking how things would never really settle down, how I’d always feel this way and when I finally had some energy to stumble out of bed I felt awful. My body felt awful and my face felt awful, as if all the life had been sucked from it; it felt saggy and heavy as though it was just hanging from my skull like a melting mask of rubber. Oh dear.

Over to you Bill...

Me likey so...

... you should likey too!

Go visit a depressed cartoonist type

Guten Tag!

Hallo deutschen Zuschauer!

Danke für das Lesen und Stoppen von :)

Bitte entschuldigen Sie meine Grundkenntnisse in Deutsch.

Once more with feeling please...

And so it begins again. Down in a hole. Frantically pulling ideas and plans out stacking them high like a mental game of Jenga only for it all to come tumbling down the next day as I hide away in my bed under the life-proof duvet.

This is getting too familiar. The sun is shining outside but its cold as due to the wind gusting and blowing. My brief gym run has now been cut short as I have neither the will, the energy nor the inclination to get up and go. Cups of tea, music and films are about as much as I can muster. Washing and basic stuff have either been forgotten or not bothered with. I can’t be arsed at all with any of it. I have a couple of trips planned next week and I’m already apprehensive about them, will  I make them, will  I want to make them, what if I have to cancel again?!

Confusion reigns with me, before sleep, during it and upon waking. I have no idea what my life is and whether I can either get myself into some sort of direction to proceed with it all. Ack, hate it because I know where this line of thinking will take me. 

Back there, back to seeing orange everywhere....

Numb reprise

The numbness of it all, the numbness to all things, things I liked and loved, they bring me only a dull numbness that is like a tongue that has been burnt by a sip of too hot tea leaving it numb to any taste or sensation for the next few days. With shaky hands and tired mind I can just about lie here and listen or watch. Typing too of course but if I don’t get these words out then they’ll just float around my noggin, free to roam, not settling just being, existing, letting me know that they’re there. They haven’t gone yet and even if you think we have, we haven’t. We’ll always be here, somewhere in the background ready to pounce when we get the chance. Is this malignant sadness, this black how I am now? Is it my defining… thing? I've just texted in to say I can’t make what little work I have on at the moment. Will they get bored of my illness and my calling in because of, ‘a bad day’?

Goodbye blue sky...

Blue Blue Electric Blue that’s the colour of my room...

waiting for sound and vision

Dreams? Odd at the moment, also they seem to be tinged with a certain amount of tension and sadness. It’s probably no coincidence that this is due to my poor attempt to come off my meds. I tried missing out alternate days and this has led me to take the proverbial one step forward two steps back. Recent dream was of my old school friend complaining about something I’d done 8 years previous. He then morphed into a monkey with a hand-grenade, pin was pulled and he then changed into a dog and brought the live grenade back to me. 

I tried to wrench it from his mouth and when I did and threw it away he brought it back. 

It went off nearby when I got it loose again but didn't really do much. I didn't seem that panicky about it either.

Waking up I feel awful right now, kinda like I've had a monster of a gym session followed by an even bigger monster of a CV workout. Then when I've finally awoken I’m anxious, angry and tense, tense and anxious or angry tense and anxious. Oh deary me. Lesson learned there then. Regardless of that I’m now back to where I was trying hard not to let it all collapse around me and let those mind demons run amok let they've just been allowed a day out amongst my head tearing up all my tentative plans for the future and graffiti-ing, ‘No chance! Forever to be this way, Give it up!’ all over my new mind walls of delicate optimism, such as they are. SI is strong as is the odd urge to binge and purge with food. New one that and am not too sure where it has come from. No-one sees itI suppose and it’s fairly concealable up to a point, not like SI that can be detected sometimes. In the name of no-one’s really sure, is this where my head is at now? Think I’ll stuff my face with a warmed up choccy muffin and wash it down with some tea. A nicer gentler way of self inflicted damage I think.