Personal Journal
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Not Good Enough
The voice in my head whispers so softly I don’t know I hear it, I’m not good enough. I push myself to think of something to write about, I’m not good enough. It’s been so long that I can’t begin anymore, before.., I’m not good enough. It’s beginning to feel like there is nothing left inside me, Except… I’m not good enough.
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The Edge
My fingers move over the keys, not typing, just moving because… I have to move. My legs are twitching, my eyes are too wide, I can feel it but I can’t stop. The depression has been ice in my veins, lead shot in my limbs, defeat, sloth. But now it has been enervated like Frankenstein’s monster, a lightning storm in my brain that gave it a hideous semblance of life. Now it is restless movement, snapping temper, too much light, too much sound… too much… too much… touch… get my fucking clothes off of me NOW!
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Herx
I’m having a herx. Doesn’t that sound intriguing? A herx is basically a backlash reaction from toxin-binding treatment. I have to take a drug to bind toxins from the genetic disease that I have. The toxins have been storing in my fat cells for decades and binding to my insulin receptors (thus I can’t actually eat carbohydrates anymore and have to be full keto). When they bind to the insulin receptors, they basically hijack the fat cell and turn it into their own little factory producing a chemical that creates inflammation. That chemical then spills off into the blood, the liver works desperately to filter it out of the blood,…
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Revisiting
Nobody tell Sir… I just spent an hour on Fetlife. No, I didn’t talk to anyone, no I didn’t go in any groups, no I didn’t read any threads or check any profiles. I was looking at my old writings that I had posted there. I had remembered a couple I thought to copy and paste here so I’d have them in one place, then I got caught up in reading… my own writing… It’s been years, and I hadn’t looked at it in so long there were essays there I’d forgotten I’d written.
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Let Off
Last night was hard. Â Sir actually had to do aftercare for me after it. Â Which is kind of hilarious now, but… it was stressful last night. Â And my period started today so I feel kind of crappy. Â BUT, haven’t cursed at anyone or burst into tears… so… maybe the keto period curse is lifted? So, anyway, Sir let me off on writing shitty first drafts tonight, yay! Â He says we’re back to it tomorrow night, which, ridiculously, actually made me so anxious thinking about it I literally started twitching (I get a twitchy leg). Sigh. There are things in life that have to be hard. This should not be one…
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Why I’m Stuck
Note: Â This became a question/answer, except I didn’t write the questions (Sir was sitting here asking me questions and making me type the answers…) Â Sorry for the weird format. This is an on-demand writing… Â I’ve been sitting in front of the computer for almost an hour… looking at shoes… Â Sir finally came in to see what I was doing. Â Now he’s supervising me (so I can’t sit and look at shoes… I’m not even a shoe person! Â I literally own three pairs of shoes and wear one of them… Â but you know… Zappos!) So he told me to pick a prompt from a creative writing website and go with it.…
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Loneliness
I feel like… since I’ve been doing this “write every day, what a brilliant idea!” thing… I’ve felt, overall, a lot more… emotional upheaval, directly related to posting here. I have emotional upheaval all the time for other reasons, obviously, but there’s a particular flavor that is… this… daily writing. And it isn’t the DOING the writing (it was at first). It’s something else. And I’ve circled around it and poked at it, trying to figure out what it is, and I’m not sure I’m there yet, but I may have my fingers on an edge of it. I think… it feels as if… writing here makes me feel… lonely.
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Ignorance and Justification
Someone said something stupid on Facebook, today. I know… Earth shattering news, right? The thing is, it was someone I really thought was better than that. And she is… in some ways… and not… in this way. She chose to go into a topic that 1.) she really knew nothing about, 2.) she had a strong emotional response to, and between those two things, she did what… most everybody does about a topic they don’t know a lot about and have a strong emotional response to. She said ignorant things. Now her ignorance wasn’t just ignorant… it became judgmental. Again, because she had misconceptions. Again, because she had strong feelings. …
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Creation
Depression sucks. Â It continues to suck. Â It sucks endlessly. Â Sir tried to help today (not that he doesn’t try every day). Â He dragged me out shopping. Â For groceries, but also to the art store where he bought be good markers (for my tangling) and two drawing journals (for my tangling). Â I ate pork rinds and macadamia nuts in the car on the way home (so much I didn’t eat any dinner) and Sir was annoyed. We sat out on the porch for two hours and I tangled all evening. Â I’m making progress. Â I’m seeing the potential for meditation, and the difficulty in my mindfulness. Â But I tried. Â None of it…
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Struggling
I’m sure I’ve hidden it so well, no one has noticed… but I’ve been struggling a little bit. Nothing life threatening, just crappy. I’m rapid cycling, but at the low end of the spectrum… so… if mood is a continuum… like a number line… and the distance between high mood and low mood is a constant, like… 20… (which it isn’t, there is no constants, but just for now…) I could go up to a high of 20 and a low of 0… or up to a high of 40 and a low of 20… Higher highs, higher lows. Or lower highs, lower lows… Right? It doesn’t actually work that…
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