What will I...

What will I do for the world?




What will I take from the world?



What will I prevent from happening to the world?



What about you?

Choices often lack something

I can continue taking these mouthfuls of toxic substances, pretending that they are doing something for me. Well, perhaps they are. I imagine that if I were not taking them, I would have already done something to put myself out of my misery long ago. But I take these capsules and tablets and concoctions and cocktails of drugs in the hopes that I can find a "cure" for my state of mind. Yet, I cannot find one. Week after week I go to face a therapist, to try and make her understand the dark thoughts that parade through my mind moment after moment, so quickly that even I cannot grasp hold of them even if I were to try.

Then I am given the suggestion that perhaps I should try electroconvulsive therapy as if that is now the magic potion with all the answers to my nightmares and dilemmas.















I don't see how attaching electrodes to my body, forcing me into a seizure, raising my blood pressure and heart rate, and over working my lungs will make me feel better. Especially considering how people have reported memory loss after these ECT "treatments".

But I'm at the end of my rope.

What else is left to consider?

They can't very well cut out a portion of my brain and just pretend the last half of my life never happened, can they?

My boyfriend saw this blog and is already up in arms, wanting to drag me off to the mental ward against my will. I refuse to be taken against my will. I do not want to be committed, or become a ward of the state. I've had enough trauma in my life. If I have to have control over anything in my life, let me retain control over what little mental stability there is left in my life. Let me drink my pills, drown myself in my chemical cocktail, and try to plaster on the fake face that says "I'm perfectly fine, no, you don't have to worry about me - don't trouble yourself" to the rest of the world.

I know they don't bloody care anyway. That's been made obvious each time I'm told to "just smile" or "cheer up" by some asshole who thinks they understand what they're talking about.

Again I wonder if perhaps it really would be best if I just had someone drive me down to Mayo and drop me off for mental evaluation. It's only a few days until my pulmonary evaluation, I only have to make it that long.

Just that long.

How to keep people at arm's length

How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment
How to defer to men in solvable predicaments
How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you
How to have that not work and have them run away from you

How to keep people at arms length and never get too close
How to mistrust the ones who supposedly love the most
How to pretend you're fine and don't need help from anyone
How to feel worthless unless you're serving or helping someone

...

How to hate women when you're supposed to be a feminist
How to play all pious when you're really a hypocrite
How to hate god when you're a player and a spiritualist
How to sabotage your fantasies by fears of success

...

How to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
How to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself
How to numb a la holic to avoid going within
How to stay stuck in blue by blaming them for everything

--Alanis Morissette, Eight Easy Steps

Today, I feel as though I want to isolate myself even farther from those I am able to come close to calling "friends". I don't want to associate with them. Not that I want to turn my nose up at being around them because I see myself as better than them, rather, I see myself as a burdensome presence. A drag on the community. I can put on a wonderful facade of a semi-normal face, a look that gets me to pass for "okay" on most people's internal sensors as they scan a room. But when I communicate online, all there is to hide myself is my words. I cannot hide behind my thoughts, as my thoughts betray me at every opportunity. A problem arises...

The further I isolate myself, the more depressed I will become. It's as if I can watch this great beast as it eats slowly at my mind and heart. Perhaps I should be in a psychiatric ward, forced into contact with other people. But what could that really accomplish? Just the thought of it brings tears unbidden to my eyes.

I have two sides to my personality warring with each other. One side wants desperately to reach out for contact. Any kind of contact. The other side wants to be left alone by everybody, even those I love and care deeply for. The latter is winning. The more the people I love push to be close to me, the more I push them away.

It's becoming harder for me to keep my mind occupied as well. Suicidal ideation is not at the forefront of my mind, but it lurks deep in my thoughts, waiting for a weak spot, an argument, a moment of hopelessness to overwhelm me, so that it can come forward and show me it's frightening head. A knife to the wrist, a bottle of pills, or any number of things too gruesome to mention.

I find it hard to even appreciate the fact that I have not coughed up blood for three months, knowing that going by the pattern of the last year, I will probably do so again in another three months. Is that what I have to look forward to in life?

How long must this battle be fought? Why must I continuously fight it, year after year? Why can't I simply say "Enough is enough, I'm tired now"?

Only God knows.

Something takes a part of me...

Something takes a part of me.
Something lost and never seen.
Everytime I start to believe,
Something's raped and taken from me... from me.
Life's got to always be messing with me.
Can't they chill and let me be free?
Can't I take away all this pain?

--KoRn, Freak on a Leash

I wonder at times what all of this is about. And by "this", I mean life in general. Why do we suffer through all that we do, only to stumble, broken, at death's doorstep at the end of the road? Is there a higher purpose? Is there a goal? Did I go through the last decade of my life weeping and hopeless only to face another seemingly endless eternity of the same due to a switch not being in the "on" position in my brain? Was it by design? Or mere chance?

My belief in God holds fast, but I get angry. Why does this happen to me? Why the suffering? Why the deaths? Why the illnesses? Again I look for a higher purpose. Am I being prepared for something that is to come? Something worse than what I've already seen, or something better?

Endless questions. More than I can ever think to put to words. They flit to and fro in my mind, a bare whisper over my subconscious thoughts. I hear them, become frustrated that I can't answer them.

Where do I belong in the grand scheme of things?

Does it really matter, anyway?

I take my medication, turn out the lights, cry myself to sleep, and the pain of it all washes the thoughts from my mind in a numbing mix of blocked out dreams and lost desires.