Tag: writing

23 years

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression

As much as I tried to avoid getting sick yesterday, I think another culprit is to blame for me getting sick. There was a lady behind me on the bus that was sneezing and I think I caught her germs. I have been doing nothing but sneezing most of the day today, and I have been up since 0530. I am pissed because I am supposed to babysit tonight and tomorrow. I don’t feel really sick but my head feels like it is going to explode. Sinuses suck when they are clogged.

I finally loaded a profile on my speech to text software last night. I made my first FB post using it. I still like to type so I am typing this blog today. I am hoping to try it out tomorrow when I feel a little better. Right now I am all congested so I don’t think that will be good trying to talk with my voice not being clear.

I have use of my sister’s car today. I am excited but there is no place that I really want to go, except Starbucks but I feel so run down, I don’t want to go out again. I just came home from picking up my lunch: Pizza. I have been dying for a slice for a few days now. I don’t know why I get food cravings. It’s not like I am pregnant, far from it! Just weird I guess.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I had a lot on my mind from my therapist appointment. She is hung up on the grief factor because of my aunt’s death. But I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel depressed about her death. We were close when I was younger but I don’t have that much new memories in my adult life. We just grew apart, though she would always ask me to come over for coffee whenever she saw me. I never saw her because we had a language barrier. She spoke 90% Italian, but the dialect kind. I always had trouble understanding her because I don’t know Italian much less the dialect kind. She was a good woman. And though she is gone, I am happy she is reunited with her husband, my favorite uncle. I know she was lonely though she didn’t show it often. He was a huge part of her life. And I am sure being without him for sixteen long years must have been tough.

But that is not why I have been having such a hard time lately. See this week marks an anniversary of when I started therapy and when I first wanted to end my life. It has been 23 years since this has happened. I was fifteen. But sometimes it still feels like yesterday. And dealing with my father who has been the chief contributor to my demise that year of the past, just means I was more vulnerable than I would be if I wasn’t dealing with my father. He just makes me want to drink which I guess is better than cutting. That night changed my life in a very profound way. I saw my father for who he truly was and it was an eye opening experience. The pedestal that I put him in came crashing down that night. And I wanted no part of him after that. Because if he could be so cruel that night, who is to say he wouldn’t flip out on us kids. He was very scary that night. I never seen him so mad before. Sure I seen him lose his temper but this was way different. He threatened my cousin and was intent on following that through. I have never seen him so livid. Course after all was said and done, I really needed to escape the craziness so I started cutting to deal with my pain. Not the best coping method but it was the only one available at the time.

no longer a nobody

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

I have been listening to the RENT soundtrack. I forgot how much I miss listening to it. I also remember watching it with the original cast back when I was in college. It was totally awesome. The only problem is that I seem to have lost disc 2. I have no idea where the original CD holder is. I have looked in several places in my room and have not turned it up. I hate that I won’t listen to the full musical. But I like disc 1 better than disc 2. It will turn up when I am looking for something else.

Today I tried to load my profile for Dragon and was not able to do so successfully. I will try tomorrow as I don’t have patience right now to deal with it. But at least I loaded it on my new laptop and it seems to work well with Win 8.

I am feeling stressed. I think my editor might be contacting me next week. It will make the book experience that more real for me and although that is a good thing, it scares me. It is one step closer to actually calling myself a writer, of being an author. And with that title means that I am no longer a nobody. Granted I won’t be joining the ranks of Hemmingway or anything but I can call myself an author and that is a big deal to me.

I finally got out of the house today but I couldn’t stay at my happy place. There was a sick woman who despite having a fever, a cough, and the runs, she was having her Starbucks. Why the fuck she wasn’t home, I have no idea. I just got my latte and my bag and left. I can’t risk getting sick from that idiot.

a starbucks day

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, suicide attempt

Sitting at Starbucks and pondering what to do today. I got chicken in the fridge that I need to prepare for dinner tonight but don’t feel like doing it. I am just so tired of life that everything is a hassle. You would think that my getting up early in the morning, before seven, I would have energy. But all I have is dread and worry. I really cannot wait until the editor can take me and I hope it is soon because the longer I wait, the longer I am just going bonkers with doubts. I know I have had two good reviews and I am grateful for that. And I know the editor will like what I write. I just have my doubts about things some times that makes me wonder if it is worth it all. I mean, I am putting myself out there in a huge way. Talking about my nerve condition, my depression, my suicide attempts, my psychosis, and most of all, being transgendered. Only a few people close to me know about this. And now I will be telling the world. But maybe I don’t need to get my story out there. I have this blog for that, but this blog is just my daily struggles. It doesn’t deal with my past events, specifically. I mean if I wrote about my past every day, I doubt I would get new readers and possibly the ones that I have now will lose interest and leave.

I was in a bad spot yesterday and the day before that. Today is too soon to know if I will be in that same bad spot. And my bad spot, I mean thinking about death and suicide. Course right now I wish I was dead just so I didn’t have to deal with my sperm donor (my father). So I texted my therapist about feeling poorly and she writes back “you deserve to live, you are worthy”. I am like WTF is that supposed to mean? I mean I get the words, but they just don’t sink in. I kind of am mad because she is going on the whole “loyalty to my father” bullshit. I don’t know what she means by “loyalty” and when I asked her about it, she said maybe that is not the right term. Ya think?? No wonder I call her a Bozo! And a Fink. But mostly Bozo.

I just sent her off a package of letters that I wrote while she was on vacation. It’s the thing I do when I am stressed and need to vent when she is not around. She is looking forward to these letters. What a weirdo. I don’t even remember half of what I wrote, which is usually the case when I write. It goes on paper or the computer screen and is promptly forgotten about. I usually have a good memory but when it comes to my writing, forget about it. It’s like I have a writing alter or something and once it gets written, that part of me is closed off to it. And when I read what I wrote, I am like WTF, I wrote this?? It’s in my handwriting as bad as it is, so I know it is me. That is why my journals are so important to me. Granted lately I haven’t been so good in writing in them. But what fascinates me is that whatever I write, doesn’t change over the years. I keep writing about my pain and all that changes is the date. SOSDD—Same old shit different day.

I think because my mood has shifted from not being suicidal every day, is why I don’t write as often as I used to. Plus with me blogging, writing is just another chore to me. It’s been ages since I last had the writing bug, in which I would have to write something all the time. It is called Hypergraphia. I learned this term from the book Midnight Disease. It was written by a neurologist at Mass General Hosp. I forget her name, I want to say Anne Flaherty, but don’t quote me on that, I am too lazy to switch screens to Google it. It was a good book and I related a lot to what she was talking about. It gave me the hope that I could still become an MD or PhD with my illness, though right now my biggest goal that I want to do is get my Bachelors degree. Then I will decide whether to pursue graduate level courses. I do want to be a therapist one day and focus in the field of suicidology. Unfortunately, there is only one program in the country that focuses on suicide and that is in either Mississippi or South Carolina. I just know it’s down south and I hate the heat and humidity so not sure I can move down there. Course, that is if I get accepted to their program.

still wicked depressed

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide attempt

Not too sure I want to go out today for my latte. It’s really cold out, but we didn’t get any snow last night, least none that I have heard about.

I finally typed up my darkness pages that I wrote out the other night. It wasn’t as bad as I was imagining but it left me in a sad mood, almost suicidal but not really. I just feel like a lowlife.

I ordered my favorite food today but it didn’t taste good. Nothing tastes good anymore. I don’t know why that is. My taste buds seem to work only when they want to. It is frustrating because when I want something and it doesn’t taste good, it just spoils my appetite. Lately, all that I do want to eat is cereal or an egg. But I had an egg for the first time in a week and it didn’t taste good. I mean it wasn’t bad or anything like that, it just didn’t satisfy me. Tomorrow I am going to be making Hawaiian chicken in the crock pot for the first time. I hope that it is good. But the depression is making it so that I don’t want to make it. I have to cut up the chicken and then mix the ingredients. It should be good for a small crock pot. It sounds like work and it is overwhelming me. I hope the feeling is gone by tomorrow.

I have to pick up my niece today so I am not sure if I want to go out. Right now, I just want to take a nap. I haven’t done anything today except for typing up my story. I really don’t need a latte. I can make a cup of coffee and call it a day. Thing is, I don’t know if my sister still has my cream. I keep it at her house so I don’t have to keep taking it up and down the stairs with me. But her family uses it so sometimes I don’t have it. And it is not like I can put a sign on it saying don’t use in my sister’s house. She will just say to bring it upstairs.

I still am having trouble with concentrating. That has to be the most frustrating symptom of depression. It is because you can’t do anything about it and you can’t do anything without it. It’s taken me forever to write this blog because I keep getting distracted. Between the TV going downstairs and my phone’s text messages, I just can’t concentrate on what I want to write.

I haven’t heard anything from my friend’s people who are reading my book, or should be. I just had two people read it and they both liked it. But these people know what Cauda Equina Syndrome is. They live with it every day so they know what I am talking about. I don’t know how that is going to be with someone “normal”. I have about three weeks before my editor takes the book from me. I like to have at least two more feedbacks before she grabs it. I am wicked nervous about it. On days like today, my book sucks and no one can tell me different. Then I think about Jobes and his endorsement of my book and realize it is not so crappy.

What is surprising me throughout this whole depression is that I am not planning my own death. Usually I will and that will give me a sort of release. But this time it is taking too long for me to even think of death. It’s like it is too far from my reach so why bother. Sure I have plenty of pills I can overdose on. But why get sick on that. Then I will lose the trust of my doctors and I can’t go through with it. Their trust means so much to me. I feel like I should call my psychiatrist but what is there to say? I am depressed, again for the umpteenth time? Sometimes I just don’t think she understands just how painful these depressions can be and what cost it takes on my heart. I don’t think any one cares about that cost.