Wednesday, December 14, 2011

People are stupid, even me.

I'm wrung out and exhausted today. Lots of panic attacks and flashbacks. I spent most of today sedating myself into unconsciousness, because I exceeded the tolerable limit for stress. I can't stop thinking about it, all of it. I've recently discovered that I've been punishing myself for years, blaming myself for what happened. I'm generally a fairly self-aware person, and I was shocked when I discovered how morbidly furious I am with myself. It wasn't my fault, none of it was. It was a miracle I survived it. I'm tough. I didn't report any of the incidents which is, in part, why I blame myself. The other part was that I didn't fight very hard to stop it. I was too scared, and I was pissed about it. It was perfectly sensible not to fight off an armed attacker who is also a trained killer. I'm almost always trying to not put blame anywhere for what happened except with myself. It was war, people were dying with tragic frequency, and we were always on missions. I'm not an idiot, I know that everyone was under that kind of stress, and those levels of stress can and do make people go kind of insane. Not an excuse for rape certainly, but certainly justifies why I didn't try to maim and/or kill my attackers. It was not my fault. I was too afraid to do anything to make them stop other than cry.

It was a near constant close call with death for almost fifteen months. I was convinced I was going to die before the unit would be allowed to go home. I was so utterly convinced of it, that when nothing else could comfort me, the reminder that I was going to die soothed me to sleep. Sometimes I almost resent having survived it. The fire fights, the mortars, the IEDs, controlled detonations, the never-ending sexual assaults, the grabbing, the groping, the demands for kisses or other sexual favors, people dying, all of it was enough to really convince me that I was going to die. Or had already died and was in hell. Through all of that I had my job to do, and that was what held me together for the deployment. If I was going to die, then by God I would be remembered as a soldier who got shit done. It is even in the Army motto:

I am an American Soldier.

I am a Warrior and a member of a team. I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values.

I will always place the mission first.

I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit.

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills. I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat.

I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.

I am an American Soldier.

Ridiculous isn't it? I'd recited or heard this recited so often, that the thought never entered my head to tell the doctors that I was losing my mind because of what was happening. I will never quit. I thought it would be quitting, giving up, violating the oaths I'd sworn. Yeah, so maybe I was a tad bit brainwashed by the Army propaganda. That is what basic training is for after all. I certainly did the close combat part.

You know I hear all the time, you don't seem like a soldier. People definitely wouldn't understand being in Iraq. The truth is I was a soldier, maybe not a very good one. I had problems with authority, given the circumstances I had valid reasons. I don't give a tin shit about being the prime physical specimen, or even getting promoted. One of the reasons people can't see me as a soldier is because I'm a bright girl. I don't know if it is the bright part or the girl part that annoys me more. I have zero tolerance for idiots, and this I picked up in the military. Frankly if I could argue someone higher ranking into a gibbering puddle of confusion, then as far as I was concerned, rank not withstanding, I was the superior soldier. I went on my missions, constantly, sometimes going days without sleep, lugging 80lbs of gear around in 100+ degree heat for dozens of miles a day, and remaining coherent enough to perform my duties. So as far as I was concerned, my performance on my physical fitness tests were entirely moot. Maybe I didn't make a lot of friends in the military (partly because of that zero tolerance for idiots mindset), but I could charm the shit out of people to give me information I needed in order to save American lives, and perform concise and accurate analysis of that information in order to help my unit with their missions. So yeah, I don't seem like a soldier, but so what? I got a few medals, a few awards, saved a few lives. The last part was all that mattered.

At any rate it's all over now, except I can't keep pretending like things didn't happen so I can keep putting one foot in front of the other just to make it through the day.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

How to avoid kicking puppies

Despite my very best intentions, I have fallen into the passive-aggressive trap. I have a bizarre resentment of anything that seems even remotely like an obligation. Disassociate is a dangerous pitfall of having so many psychological disorders. Lately anything that distracts me from the wide and varied world in my head, tends to make me want to bite someone's head off. I don't like being this pissy all the time. When you catch yourself yelling at a puppy for being a puppy and exhibiting puppy-like behaviors, you know you've got to straighten yourself out.

The VA has me on new medications, and one medication I take to treat my nightmares. Since I started taking it, I don't have violent nightmares. Instead I have passive-aggressive nightmares. Seriously. Instead of reliving all my worst experience every night in my sleep, my subconscious drops hints, or constructs parables. I actually get regular sleep now, which is a freaking miracle. Unfortunately, I tend to spend my mornings untangling the puzzles of my dreams, which leave a mildly disturbing after taste, that I can't shake.

I have a sweet faced and precious four and a half month old Corgi, whom I adore, when I'm in a half way decent mood. I really just want to yell at someone, or get in a fight, so that I can vent all this confusing pent up stress. Also so I will stop being mad at my helpless and adorable puppy. I resent fucking Christmas for crying out loud. It is exhausting being this angry all the time and not understanding why I am so pissed. Unfortunately for me, I am not in the Army anymore (I know that statement makes no sense if you've read previous entries), and I can't explode all over random people and pick fights to feel better. In the Army it's just par for the course. It is a dangerous mirage, that makes you think, if I could just hit something or scream I would feel better. It wouldn't really make me feel better, the guilt would probably just make me feel worse.

There is always this annoying voice in the back of my head that insists I should be punishing the wicked and saving the poor and downtrodden masses. I can't even save myself. It's the Army reaching out from the great beyond, trying to tell me how I should live my life. It insists that the worse my life gets, the more I should be trying to save the world from itself. Turn the music up, and tune it out. And don't kick the puppy.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Sometimes, I can't believe my life. Seriously, I want to track down my dumb-ass guardian angel and strangle that fucker.

What am I supposed to want? What can I want that isn't self-destructive? I've discarded most of my wants, dreams, goals etc. because they made me hate myself for not being able to achieve anything of note. I have boiled away all the excess until I have become a rather simple creature. I get one cup of coffee in the morning (and it must be the PERFECT cup of coffee or else there will be suffering), and if I go too long without new books to read, I get a little crazy. The rest of my day has no routine whatsoever. I mean I forget to shower half the time, and my gums are starting to swell up irritatingly because I don't floss. I try not to dwell on things overly much, but I have horrific nightmares every night. I am very carefully not self-critical, but every now and again I look at the nearly thirty, fat slob I have become and want to explode from self disgust. Never mind that it isn't my fault that my medications make it hard to lose weight, or that I can't exercise because I'm house-bound, or that anxiety makes impulse control a wistful dream. I have hell, in the form of thousands of unwanted memories, locked up in my brain and bound round with chains and padlocks, just waiting to break free.

I don't feel sorry for myself really. I'm just a walking time-bomb of pent up rage and fear, ready to go off at any given time. The trick is to convince yourself that you aren't crazy, that this is what you WANTED your life to be. Right. Still working on that. I've done really well, not going on off on anybody in awhile. I haven't called anyone a fucking idiot to their face since I got out of the army. Amazing how quickly I got control of that particular impulse once I was away from base. Sometimes I wish the VA would just get it over with and medicate me to the point of catatonia. It would be so much easier if I wasn't able to think. Or remember. I want to put my fist through my monitor right now. Even when I'm busy pretending the world doesn't exist, and that I have no past or future, I grind my teeth from stress. My jaw fucking hurts. I don't like having physical pain be a constant reminder of the chronic psychological distress I am under.

I want to buy some land, 20 acres or so of undeveloped property, except for the house. A house with a tall wall around it to discourage Avon ladies and other nuisances. Possibly with turrets. I want peace and quiet. I could walk around outside without having to worry about running into someone. It is revolting to me how terrified I am of other people. The fact that I feel like I need 20 acres of land a huge wall in front of it to feel safe from other people is distressing. I live in the suburbs, and it is stifling. Its a step up from the madness of living in downtown Seattle, but it is still stifling. I feel like I'm being judge when I walk to the end of my driveway to check the mail in my pajamas, not that that stops me from wearing my pajamas. Naturally I scorn any action on my part which may be in reaction to what I think other people are thinking about me. If that made any sense. That's why I stopped writing in my blog. People were reading it, oh my God. Then of course when I realized I stopped writing in it, because I felt like I was being judged, here I am writing in it again. Sometimes I am such a hard ass.

So I'm turning 29 this year. Haven't finished my education. Not married. Not on speaking terms with a big chunk of my family. 60lbs over-weight. Smoking too many cigarettes every day. Christ it makes me tired. What am I supposed to do? I wanted to change the world, now I can't even change myself. Sometimes I feel like my life ended in Iraq. I know perfectly well that I have a lot to be grateful for, but if I had died in Iraq, like I sometimes wish I had, there would have been a tolerable amount of satisfaction in it. Death is senseless most of the time, but dying in war makes sense. Living the life I am, doesn't make sense. A fact which pisses me off daily. Two fucking years in therapy, and I still can't work, hell I still can't go to a fucking movie theater. Now I'm feeling sorry for myself.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Tired again, naturally

I hate being confronted with the fact that PTSD is so much bigger than me. People shouldn't have to look at all their worst fears and experiences every day. It is driving me crazy. I really hate myself. I don't know who I'm supposed to be, or who I am. I'm tired. I'm tired in a way that makes my soul ache, and makes me wonder how much longer I'll survive this much suffering. All I can do is pretend sometimes that I know what I'm doing, and that I'll be okay. Nobody can help me, although God knows some have tried. Every time I start believing things might be okay, I get sucker punched, and it starts all over again. How do I make it stop, short of dying? Cause I really hate the idea of another 50 years of this shit.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


You really can't go home again. Not after war, you leave a part of yourself behind when you get off that plane. You'll never be the same again.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Can'ts and Don'ts

I told my psychiatrist today that I couldn't stop thinking about dying. She told me that my medication was fine, and I would have to deal with it in therapy.

A dog will play with almost anything if he thinks he can get away with it. A cat will sleep anywhere that physics will allow them to get away with. Any person under the right circumstances will betray everything they hold dear and make themselves a hypocrite. Its all relative.

I hate people, really I do. I'm cynical and bitter, and I can't think past my "right now". You can't think about the future without thinking about the past, and my past is fucked up. Everything in my experience has taught me that people cannot be trusted. I can trust my judgment, because if my opinion of human nature was any worse I would become a maniac bent on the destruction of the world. Like comic book style, try to destroy the world, and since there are no super heroes in this world I could probably get away with it. I have impulse control problems. The only reason I don't go around punching people who annoy me is, because it wouldn't teach them anything as most people are too stupid to learn. Not that I care about teaching anybody anything, but it would be pointless.

All I want is peace and fucking quiet. I don't want to think or feel anything. Life is too hard, and I don't care enough anymore. I ran out of give-a-shit a long fucking time ago. I kind of wish they would lock me up in a little white room with all the Thorazine they can shoot me up with, and all the jello I can eat. Except they probably wouldn't let me bring my cat. I am sort of attached to her. I'm not living now, but I'm not dead yet and suicide is cowardice. So I'm just waiting for my turn to kick the bucket. I'm all out of convictions. I used to want to save the world, and now I don't think I even want to save myself.

Friday, July 1, 2011


I can't stand feeling all alone. I'm emotionally dangerous to myself, its like a bomb with a short fuse of emotional shit waiting to blow up in my head all the time. I'm running out of distractions. I don't want to eat, or sleep, or bathe, or take care of the house. I'm locked in my head and I can't get out. Everything I do or don't do makes me feel terrible about myself, and all I can hear is the hissing of that fuse waiting to blow.

I can't make decisions to save my life. I wish I could just shut it all off. I can't find a corner of my mind to hide in, and feel safe. I wish I could pretend everything is fine, I know people who can pretend it so hard that it almost feels real, but I'm not one of them. I'm driving myself crazy, but I can't stop it.

I know there are those who can find power in the simple things in life, and I think I used to know how to do that, but my memory isn't so good.

I'm like a child, utterly dependent on others. I was this amazing person, who stayed surrounded by enemies, bombs falling everywhere, and people dying all around me, and now I've been reduced to this. But who cares right? I don't recognize my own face in the pictures or in the mirror. I'm not a real person, just a used up, washed out soldier who got old before my time.

I'm surrounded by people who have never had to sort through the bloody rubble of war to try and find themselves again, and they will never understand. Civilians seem stupid and shallow and incapable to me, because I keep trying to hold everyone to the same standards. I can't even live up to those standards anymore. My power is missing along with so many other things.

I don't want to be this anymore, but I don't know how not to be. I don't remember. I forgot too much, and not nearly enough. If I had died my story might have had some relevance, but I'm just another broken soldier now, and no one wants responsibility for us broken toys. Stick it on a high shelf in the back of a closet and try to forget. I can't take any pride in surviving, and I can't help wishing I had died, because I so desperately want some peace.

I'm stumbling around in a world I don't understand anymore, and everyone keeps asking too much from me. All I want to do is forget. All I can do is exist, as more of a thing than a person.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

I don't know

I don't know how to live with this. I'm tired of hiding with my head in the sand, but I can't keep suppressing these screams that build up every day. Its like there is a war going on in my head. I don't know what to do.

I still put my hair up before I get out of bed, just like I did in the army before morning formation every day.

They lie when they say God never gives you more than you can handle.

My heart has been broken for years now, and I am still waiting for the healing to start.

I don't know what to do. I really don't.

This is not the world I would have chosen to be born into, and I can't make it be the one I need. Whoever thought free will was a good idea ought to have been shot.

I'm running around in circles, because I can't escape, I can't get in my car and just drive. Everywhere I go there I am. Not fair. I'm lost, and I haven't left the house.

Don't anyone dare tell me it will get better. It only gets better when its about to get worse.

Monday, June 27, 2011

The rock and a hard place

I'm having dangerous thoughts tonight. It happens from time to time. Giving in to anger won't give you peace, from the constant fear, I know that. The danger lies in righteous anger. Oh everybody thinks they are right, no army ever went to war think God had sided with their enemy. As a victim, I feel in my heart that giving in to that anger and seeking vengeance would be worth the price I would pay. Not just for myself, but because the world is a little less safe with people who commit terrible crimes get away with it. Its only the law, not respect for it or fear of it, but the knowledge that the law would castrate the meaning behind it. The law couldn't protect me when I needed it to, because others saw themselves as above the law. If the law took my justice away from me and labeled it a crime, other victims might not protect themselves. The system is so broken, which makes me even angrier. They've wrapped themselves up so tightly with bureaucracy that they've lost sight of the true meaning of justice, because the criminals have more rights than those whose lives they destroy. So the criminals aren't held accountable, and the system isn't held accountable, and I am left with helpless rage.

People wonder why I don't trust people. First my life is destroyed through the actions of someone else, and then they just continue on with their lives like nothing is wrong, while I'm stuck in hell, paying the price for what they've done. Its wrong. Once upon at time I raised my hand and swore to uphold the constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic and bear true faith and allegiance to the same. Well I can still hold up allegiance to the constitution, but faith in it and the way its manipulated to serve criminals is beyond my capacity for hypocrisy. I stood up in the face of the enemies of this country and upheld that oath, but the law didn't hold up its oath to protect me from those bastards that hurt me. It keeps happening, every day, over and over to other women who have served this country. We keep our oaths, and the country abdicates responsibility for us. Its shameful. This country has become what it was created to stand against. The bureaucrats only responsibility is to deny blame, to not be held accountable. A soldier's responsibility is to protect that bureaucrat with our lives if necessary.

I'm trapped, between my honor as a veteran, and my responsibility to live up to my oath, and moral outrage that this is continuously allowed to happen to people.

I know one thing is for sure. If I had one wish, it would be that I would become the kind of person who could just "get over it", just "let it go", because I would be a hell of a lot happier. Ignorance is bliss. If I could forget, even if I couldn't forgive, my life would be so much better. I'm not so foolish as to think I can save the world, but I wish I didn't have to constantly fight the feeling that I should be fighting to save it from itself. That is just a Greek tragedy waiting to happen. Why is it, that I feel compelled to always do the right thing in any given situation to the best of my ability, and others only take advantage of situations to get what they want? I find myself cursing the day humans were given the ability to feel higher emotions and free will. Its a recipe for disaster.

I fought in Iraq, not so we could make the world a better place, but so some asshole can film "Jersey Shore". Futility does not even begin to describe it. People are so fucking stupid.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Lala la di da

I am having serious problems with anger and impulse control. I find myself wanting to say horrible things to people who don't deserve it. I've been avoiding again, in a really bad way. Granted this week or so I have had an unholy amount of stress, but I'm normally much more in control of myself especially because I've been at home most of the time. I'm angry at the VA, which is fruitless. Being angry at bureaucrats is utterly pointless, they fix things so no matter what you do, you can't get anything done. Especially when what they are doing makes absolutely no fucking sense at all.
My therapist left, and I was reassigned to the old one again. The social worker with an office above a methadone clinic in the VA hospital. Hmmm someone with PTSD, and panic disorder with agoraphobia really needs to have to go through a methadone clinic before every appointment. Sounds like fun right? Lets make it even better, lets make it the Women's Trauma and Recovery Clinic above the methadone clinic. Those people really don't need to feel like they are in a safe environment. Lets see how bad we can fuck with their heads as soon as they walk through the damn door. I have to wait for 2 months to even get in to see her too, which is probably why I'm all kinds of crazy lately. They really don't think shit through. I have to wade through a bunch of homeless drug addicts to check into my appointments. I get eyed like a piece of raw meat thrown to a pack of hyenas. Just like old times.
People have started that "Don't let it upset you bullshit" that always pisses me off. What part of I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING SAY IN THE MATTER don't you understand? Its pretty straight forward. So I've been alternating between rage and self pity (which usually results in a spurt of impulse shopping which I can't afford because I have no money.)
Then they act all hurt when I get snappy. I'm like oh sorry, I'll just go medicate myself into oblivion so I don't hurt YOUR feelings. Excuse me for living. Its not like I say half the shit that pops into my head, because if I did ...well that would be bad. I used to be renowned for my ability to make people cry and feel terrible about themselves. Everybody has to be good at something right? I'm not a real person, and people don't treat me like one. I don't know what I am anymore, other than broken.
I've wanted to throw some epic temper tantrums today, but I didn't because I was trying to be good, and still got chided for snapping at people. I'm not allowed to want anything or feel anything. I'm really getting sick of hearing the word "no". Without justification or explanation. Just no. As though I'm a child. I'll start finger painting on the walls soon if I'm going to be treated like a kid anyway.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Sick of myself

I've been angry on and off for the last several days. Its like panic attacks, except not. I'm angry at everyone, and I don't like myself much because of it. It's so ridiculously childish. I don't understand people, truly. It is four-thirty a.m. and I can't sleep. I had another incident, where I upset a civilian with military humor badly enough that we got kicked out of a friend's house. I am so confused, and really sad. I don't feel like a real person around other people. I am always so outside and apart from everyone. I'm sick of it. For an agoraphobic, who works really hard just to leave the house, having my teeth kicked in over misunderstandings is incredibly humiliating. Failed. Failed. Failed again. I have to be so self-conscious so I don't say horrible things to people, and manage my anxiety at the same time. Most of the time I end up playing with the kids or sitting as still and as quietly as possible, so as not to attract any attention. I can't really enjoy myself around other people, and its created this rift between me and the outside world. There just isn't anything for me out there. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why bother? It is hard enough just being me, surviving myself. I haven't found much that would make it worthwhile to continue this psychological torture. And this AFTER prolonged exposure therapy.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Childish things

I've spent the evening trying to convince myself of who I am, and all I've gained from my efforts is a vague sense of confusion. I've gone back to hiding from my fears. I wish I was the kind of person that could confront them and then put them behind me. Instead I seem to be the kind of person that keeps running headfirst into my fears and then running in the opposite direction into another. Always running and never getting anywhere. So much effort and such terrible rewards. I used to be a terribly strong person, or at least a person who was too stubborn to quit. People keep saying I'm brave, but I'm not. Not anymore. I don't even have the anger, that drive to prove people wrong out of sheer spite. I also kind of feel like every significant experience I've had in my life is it, and that for better or worse there will be nothing else. I don't want to live the rest of my life this way, but I don't know what to do. I keep expecting to wake up some VA home for old crazy people, like Rip Van Winkle. I don't know what to do, what to be. I cannot imagine a future, and I have an excellent imagination. Life is never going live up to my expectations, the world and the people in it, for the most part, are always going to let me down. Becoming a soldier was one of the most life changing experiences I've ever had, hell nobody really gets more life changing than that. Especially once you've been to war. Once you've accepted that people can and will kill you, you can never look at the world the same way again. Once you've accepted that people who were supposed to care about you, or at least be responsible for your safety will rape you and hurt you beyond anything you've ever felt, you can never be the same again. I spend way more time than most people do trying to create the illusion of safety. I hide a whole lot more than is healthy. I don't believe in that illusion of safety, but I keep hoping I will. When that is the best you can hope for, you are in a seriously fucked up place. I want to remake the entire world, so that no one ever has to suffer anything like this. I want to give the world back a sense of magic and hope. I want to make everyone stop being so damn jaded. Unreasonable expectations all of them. I really don't want that kind of responsibility anyway. If I could do without anyone expecting it, or knowing that I did it at all, I totally would. Imagine if one day you could wake up and everything is just suddenly better, because you can look at the world through a child's eyes again. No hard truths, no harsh realities, just the simple ability to be filled with joy at the simplest things. Sunshine, kittens, crayons, chairs that spin around in circles, all reasons to be happy without all the things adults think are so damn important. Once childhood is behind you, its all down hill from there. Its such a childish wish, but its such a powerful one.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


I've been feeling more like Alice, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland more and more each day. I even got a button with a quote from the book. Life doesn't make sense, people don't make sense, society doesn't make sense, the rules, laws, and social contracts we bind around ourselves don't make sense. I don't make sense. I've always felt this way, but the feelings have gotten more intense. I'm confused about who I am supposed to be. I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know what I want from one moment to the next. The more I learn, the more I realize, I know nothing. I have a general sense of right and wrong, and I kind of wing it from there. I am compulsively honest, and generally am disliked or overlooked entirely. I don't mind it as much as I used to. I've learned it is better not to be around people with whom I have nothing in common. There is a quote from somewhere that comes to mind and I'm sure I am mangling it, but it goes something like "Never surround yourself with those in who's company you would not gladly die." I'm annoyed that I can't figure out the correct punctuation for that quote. I don't want to be the sum of my parts, or be what the past has made me. I keep trying to make someone new, but that is difficult. The world has moved on. I stopped being young at some point, because some experiences prevent you from staying wrapped in your illusions. It makes me feel old. I'm quite adept at mimicking what people expect to see, but most of the time I don't bother. Its something the army taught me, and I find I have no use for it in the civilian world. Frankly, its dishonest, and quite distasteful to me. Generally, I only speak when I have something to say. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. Most of the time. I am consistent only in my inconsistency. I am so very tired of myself. I am like a puzzle with pieces missing, that doesn't seem to form an understandable picture. Not even abstract art, because it has no purpose behind it. Just random. I should go to bed, I've been tired all day, but when I lay down I cannot sleep. Try, try, again.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Once again

I had a horrible realization tonight. I've been looking for a long time for a way to be happy just because I'm me. I don't know if I ever will find a way, but it doesn't seem likely. I start collecting hobbies, and then leave them all unfinished. I'm so tired. It is a hard thing to realize that you really don't like yourself. I'm not even feeling sorry for myself at this point, I'm just sort of shocked. I started crying earlier watching a damn cartoon, and have been crying on and off for hours. I'm questioning every decision I've made for the last several years, and every decision I just didn't make that I needed to. I almost got in the car and drove straight to the hospital tonight so that I could be someplace safe, where I could just stop being for awhile. But the truth is that there is no answer, none that the doctors can give me, none that anyone can give me. Damn I hate crying, its so fucking useless. The more I learn the less I know, until I finally understand that I will never know, but I still have to find some damn way to get through this life. Like Cee-Lo says "I can die when I'm done." I did what I set out to do, I made it through five years in the Army, because I needed to prove something to myself. But what do I do now? I still haven't found all the pieces of myself that I've lost. I know that I have to find some way to live, because I'm too spiteful to let the bastards win. I just don't have a lot left to work with anymore. Oh I could survive, but will I ever find happiness? I'm a strong person, but that doesn't do me a hell of a lot of good at this point. I can keep pushing through everything and ignore the hurt until the day I die, but who wants that? I can keep forcing myself to "acknowledge my feelings and thoughts and letting them go", but they don't go. They keep coming back. I started a jar. I put money in it every time I catch myself thinking about things I shouldn't, its just kind of a way to measure how fucked up I am over a given period of time. Maybe I'll make a spread sheet and keep track of it, that would make my therapist happy. Everybody keeps telling me how well I'm doing, but the truth is I'm not doing anything. I don't do a damn thing. I just am. I suffer therefore I am, right? I hate this, I don't like feeling like this, I don't like writing about this, and I sure as hell don't want to talk about this. My head starts spinning when I try to figure out all the ramifications of this epiphany, the ripples go so far. Its like looking at the universe, at infinity, and trying to find home. Religious people so have it made, everything is black and white, and no matter how bad this life sucks it has a purpose and in the end is 72 virgins or a castle in the clouds. Frankly, when I die, all I want is some peace and fucking quiet, and the inability to remember any of this shit. Maybe get reborn as a house cat, fat and lazy. People are too complicated, and because people are complicated they make life complicated which makes people more complicated and around and round she goes. I'm not even making sense anymore so I guess its time for meds.

Friday, February 18, 2011

As of today

I wasn't sleeping well so I started taking my sleeping meds again. I think insomnia is just hard wired into my brain at this point. I was taking 5 or 6 pills a night, for the bigger part of last year, to help me go to sleep. Prior to that I had 6 years of on and off insomnia. I had the whole works, couldn't fall asleep, couldn't stay asleep, would wake up early, horrible nightmares, and occasional night sweats. Sometimes I'd have all that in one night. At any rate Doc took me off of most of my meds to avoid daytime sleepiness associated with the rocking case of depression I got going on. A couple of weeks of that with the related "Discontinuation syndrome" from being off Benzodiazapines, which I've been on for more than a year, and everything was going to shit because I wasn't sleeping well or at all. So I finally start taking my sleeping meds again a few nights ago, and right away I start feeling a little better. At least better enough to start being able to identify problems again.

See I've been doing my prolonged exposure therapy like a good little soldier, and I've started to see a marked reduction in anxiety when I'm out. A good chunk of that is due to the fact that I'm not in Downtown Seattle anymore, and I'm a little wary of gauging just how much is actual progress on my part, and how much is a change in environment. Part of it I think was overload, from the move, which caused a backlash of emotional avoidance, and a big wave of depression. I had weird anxiety side effects, but no anxiety attacks. I'm still having weird anxiety side effects. Everyone is cheering me on and saying how well I'm doing, which sort of irritates me, but a part of me craves the affirmation. All that aside, I don't do ANYTHING during the day when my bf is at work, except mess around on the internet, and maybe read or watch tv. So the house is a disaster, because bf is trying to do a million high stress things at once, and I'm completely apathetic about it. Cleaning is an nuisance and since I'm already avoiding most of my life, why not just add that to the list? Problem is I've also been avoiding almost everything else. When I get kicked in the jaw by some unexpected stressor I go straight into a panic attack, which probably means I'm ignoring my anxiety levels altogether instead of monitoring them like I'm supposed to be doing. Its been a year since I dropped out of school. I quit school to deal with the all the things that were driving me into a constant state of terror, and that's what I've been doing. Admittedly it has been a massive undertaking, but that is pretty much the only thing I've done for the last year. I started writing a book, but that has been completely on hold for like a month. I refuse to say I've given up on it, because I want to pick it back up. I've been pretty much hibernating since the move. I don't like change. The move was extremely stressful, and I didn't even do much to contribute to the move because I was so stressed out. Vicious circles, my life is full of them. I still have a lot of work to do to shake off this depression, but at least I see the ripples its caused in my life now. The problem is that suddenly I have to be proactive, when I've been so passive for so long. I'm very hard on myself. I've caught myself thinking about how worthless I am or something along those lines a half a hundred times this week. So then I have to stop and spend a half an hour conducting a running monologue in my head about how feelings like that should be acknowledged but not be allowed to run amuck, and then give myself a pep talk. Its very disruptive. I get so wrapped up in all this that I forget to eat or brush my teeth or what not. The only things I do consistently is smoke cigarettes and drink my almighty cup or two of coffee in the mornings. Depression means I can justify sneaking extra caffeine because I need the energy. I also have attention deficit disorder, which means I'm extremely easily distracted, except when I'm hyper-focused on something like mindlessly surfing the web or reading a sleazy romance novel. So its pretty chaotic in my head these days. I'm constantly reminded of what I didn't or couldn't or should've done, which leads to feelings of being a failure, which leads to depression blah blah blah. So I avoid. I curl up on the couch with my book or laptop and proceed to not move except to smoke or pee all day. Sometimes all this avoidance makes me tired and I take a nap. Craziness. Basically, I've been a miserable person. So I have to figure out how to go about fixing all this, and I'm really open to suggestion at this point, so feel free to comment. I haven't made much progress in therapy due to all this crap, and my therapist ends up listening to me babbling for an hour every week and constantly asking if I'm having feelings of self-harm. I'm not by the way. One of my new favorite songs goes something like "When I was lost I even caught myself looking in the gun's direction, so I've tried everything but suicide, but its crossed my mind. But I'm fine." C-Lo is a genius.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


Lately I have been severely depressed. I don't want to get out of bed. It takes supreme effort on my part or someone nagging me to get me out of bed. Even when I get out of bed, I don't want to do anything. I start reading a book and can't finish it. I start watching a movie and turn it off halfway through. I just lose interest in things so quickly. Which is making this whole moving thing really difficult. I'm so tired, all the time. I tried to take a walk with my bf today to try and wake up and find some energy but it didn't really help much. I don't know what to do. People tell me I should be happy and excited. But I mean, if shoulds ruled the world, I wouldn't have gotten raped and sexually assaulted and wouldn't be like this in the first place. I would love to be happy and excited. I would love to have at least normal energy levels. I would love to have a life. Unfortunately, I gotta work with what I got, which isn't a helluva lot right now. It's infuriating how often I think about something that scares me lately. Its almost a constant background noise in my head, like static noise. If I am not paying attention I will start talking to myself, reacting to the background fear. Sometimes things slip out of my mouth, and if someone hears it I have lie about it, because I don't want to admit that I'm talking to myself. Its not even that I'm talking to myself, I'm talking to memories. That is some crazy shit. My favorite part is, I'm starting to be afraid of things that never happened. How fucking awesome is that stupid shit? Its like the memories are growing beyond what they were into something even worse. Like I need worse. What I dealt with is bad enough, but I got so scared I was going to remember something else bad that happened that my brain started going through all these "what if'" scenarios. The human brain is a fucked up little machine. So I have to give myself these little talks from time to time, about what reality is and what it isn't. Let me tell you how good that feels having to do that. Its like "Hey crazy lady, that didn't happen, this is what happened and quit trying to drive yourself even more insane by dreaming up all these awful things." Generally I'm nicer to myself than that, but holy shit, sometimes I think my subconscious is trying to kill me, and its only paranoia if they aren't really out to get you. Try and catch a subconscious in the act. Its unprovable. Deviant little bastards. You know I've tried reasoning with crazy people before, more times than is pretty to think of, and now I spend an awful lot of time trying to reason with myself and its harder than reasoning with some other crazy person. My head hurts trying to unravel the grammar in that sentence so I'm just going to leave it as is. I'm tired and its starting to affect my cognitive processes. I'm not as articulate as I was before. Its harder to explain things. When I start sounding like Kurt Vonnegut I'm having myself permanently committed. I don't care if the intellectuals love the guy, he was bug fuck crazy.

Monday, January 10, 2011


Stress is cumulative. It just keeps building up. I think pain is also. I turn away from the pain, or turn it into anger so I can deal with it, or I ignore it, but its always there. When my stress level gets high enough, things start leaking through the cracks. It gets to the point where it doesn't even matter anymore. I can't even count the losses, the sleepless nights, or the tears I've cried. I don't have hope that things will get better. Everybody says things will work out the way it should, but in my experience they never do. I've survived, and some days that is something I deeply regret, because everyday is some new pain, more stress. I keep waiting for the worst, and I can't make it stop. When I'm alone I can't stand it, and when I'm not alone all I can think is how I want to be alone. More than once I've wondered when the stress itself will kill me, because physically the body can only take so much stress. I need something good to happen, I need to win, I need some fucking control back over my life. I am not going to sleep even though I'm tired right now, because I don't want to keep doing things just because I'm going through the motions. Even if its ultimately not good for me I want a fucking choice. There is no "getting over it", I have to live it, and live with it.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011


I'm doing prolonged exposure therapy, and it really, really sucks. I have to go out every day and be around crowds of people. Just recently I've had to start going out around crowds of people and be alone for like half an hour. Its awful. I can't even take my panic attack medications even though I want to. My nightmares have been really bad lately and my mood sucks. I am trying to write a book, and it was flying for awhile, but since my mood has been so bad I haven't been writing as much. I'm ahead enough in my writing that I can type things out and do some editing work, when I'm not in the mood to write, but that isn't going to last forever. I did manage to write a few pages today, in between naps. I suppose I should be grateful for that, but I'm not really in the mood to be grateful for much of anything. Mostly I'm resentful. I try not to take it out on other people, so I kind of get quiet. Then everybody starts asking whats wrong and I just want to scream. They know perfectly well whats wrong. There's nothing anybody can do about it, and when I want to talk about things I talk about them. If I don't, I don't. I know that people just worry about me, and care about me, but I need to be left alone sometimes. We're also getting ready to move as soon as we find a rental in the area we are looking at. Then things are going to get really stressful because we'll have to put the condo up for sale, and start looking for houses to buy. The market is really bad right now, but we've got a good down payment so we should be able to get into a nice house. I really want to be excited about it but it is going to be alot of work and I'm already exhausted all the time. I'll probably have to do a lot of the packing myself while the bf is at work, because he doesn't want to take a bunch of time off to move. He's been stressed about work, plus the move, plus he has to help me with my therapy. I don't push to get my therapy done as much as I should, partly because I feel guilty that he's going through so much right now, and partly because I just don't want to do it. I want to be comfortable, I don't want to keep putting myself under all of this stress and pressure. I keep going, and I keep pushing, but holy shit, I'm tired. I haven't seen much improvement so far, and I haven't even started doing the other half of the therapy which is going to suck soooo bad I can't even stand thinking about it. Its been almost a year since I dropped out of school, and I really haven't made much progress on anything. People say I'm getting better but I don't feel better. I'm still miserable. Maybe I'm just getting used to being miserable. I don't know. All I know is that I'm depressed tonight, and I don't want to go to sleep.