So Very Tired

Despite the fact that I've been sleeping a lot lately, I remain tired. I've opted for sleep over many things that I could have or should have been doing the past couple of weeks. Instead of going to the gym many mornings, I slept (though to give myself some credit, some of the time I was feeling horribly sick). Instead of running errands, cleaning the house, looking for work, or doing college assignments, I slept.

Now, you may be thinking, "Geez, you're a lazy ass," or "Why are you complaining about sleeping so much," or some other thought along those lines (or not, I can't predict everything one might think). Regardless, I'm talking about sleeping so much because I have no will to do anything else lately. I don't want to do anything. So I sit on the couch like a lump until I get sleepy and pass out. Then I'll sleep for hours. Even if I slept all night, I can just about sleep all day.

I have no will to move or do anything. I think about moving, but I don't do it. Even if I'm uncomfortable from being in the same position for so long, I don't move. I just think, "Ow. My back (arm, leg, etc.) really hurts. If I shift my weight or get up and move it'll stop." Then I sit or lie there until I fall back asleep.

I'm pretty broke, having just lost my main source of income and all. I'm depressed about life in general. For many of my problems I don't know what to do to fix them. So I simply exist, taking up space.

I can function, albeit it very slowly and by doing only the minimal amount of action. After wasting most of my day with sleep a sort of anxious panic sets in. I freak out that I've wasted time. Valuable time that I can never get back. Then I go into a sort of hyper state of running around doing as much as I can.

Then, at the end of the day, I vow not to do it again tomorrow. Guess how that story ends. If you guessed I do the same damn thing the next day, you're right.

A Freddie Mercury Intermission: Bad Moods

I've fallen behind a bit on my Freddie Mercury blogging goal; I intend to remedy this within the next couple of days. In the mean time, if you really hate reading/listening to people bitch and complain, stop reading here.

I'm sick and tired of having so many ups and downs. For a bit of each day I will feel fine (or my version of fine, which is not really "fine" at all if you go by the definition). Then the following feelings will come in no particular order: anxiety, sadness, a deeper sadness, anger, annoyance, irritability and worthlessness. Potentially a mild panic attack may also occur.

Some days are better than others, of course, with more time spent feeling "fine". Certain weekdays are particularly bad for me. I don't know why with any certainty. But look out for extra online bitching and whining on Thursdays and Fridays.

I'm so tired of it. It's making my OCD worse. By that I don't mean washing my hands or checking locks obsessively. I mean dark, hurtful imagery that pops into my mind unbidden. And repeatedly. Very disturbing images. If you've experienced it you'll know what I mean. If you haven't you might think I'm either a freak or an extra big whiner. (I mean if it's not a gaping wound or horrid disease I should just shut up and quit complaining right?!)

The past few months have been extra stressful for me. I am trying to work through my issues, but I know that I haven't been doing it in the best possible way. It's hard when I feel like I can't rely on myself to have my own best interests at heart.

I get angry and I want to lash out at those who are close to me, particularly if I feel that they have contributed to my stress. All that accomplishes is alienating myself, hating myself for feeling petty/vengeful, and causing those close to me stress and/or grief. I'm sick of it.

However, if I try to hold it in or ignore it, it boils over and eats at me from the inside. I've tried talking to those I'm angry with, and while I might feel better while talking to them there is no real resolution to my issues. I wish I could just walk away from everything, but that's not possible.

I think most of all I am angry and disappointed in myself. I like to think of myself as a nice and understanding person, but my actions don't always measure up to that. That only furthers my feelings of self loathing and worthlessness.

I know I'm not the only one with problems, both emotional and otherwise, but that doesn't diminish my daily struggle. Sure, I appreciate that things could be worse. But does that mean that my problems are nothing? People tell me to think of the good things I have going for me, but that doesn't negate the problems I have. I know they mean well and want me to be happy, but I also feel like they are just tired of hearing me complain. They just want me to be happy. Honestly, I don't know how to just be happy. I don't know that it is that simple.

Not to say that I don't have happy times, because I do. They are just interspersed between lots of negative feelings. The cycles of feelings are what exhaust me so much. I just want to be content. To hell with happy. I'll leave that for when I've been content long enough to slide into boredom. (Don't want to aim too high!)

I really feel like doing mean and angry things right now. I want to piss people off. I want to make them hurt. I'm tired of taking everything to heart when others can just walk away from a situation and carry on like nothing happened (well, I know that isn't totally true, but I seem to have more trouble letting go than others do; not their fault, but they don't always take my feelings into account when doing shit that affects me).

I'm just tired of it. I wish I could just not care. I don't want to care any more. It hasn't gotten me much thus far. I'm just not like that. Yet. I feel myself becoming more apathetic and detached at times. I know that's not a healthy goal, but I'm sick of emotional pain. I'm sick of being sick of it.

If you've survived this far into my emotionally immature rant, thanks (I guess; maybe I'm sorry would be more appropriate).

Grrrr.... and Other Angry Thoughts

I've been up and down with the moods quite a bit lately. Today has primarily been an anxious and angry day. A bit sad at times, but mostly angry and anxious (it bore repeating!).

The anger is coming about the same way as the depression and anxiety: unexpectedly and without the ability to shut it off right away. I try to work around it or through it. I'm writing about it right now to try to alleviate some of the feelings. I'm so terribly angry right now. Not at any one thing in particular. Circumstances. My own feelings of inadequacy. My vulnerabilities. Myself. My choices in life. My poor judgment and the fact that I've allowed people to use me sometimes.

I know it's not constructive, but just like with the depression, the mood is here and I have to actively fight it off. It's not going quietly into that good night.

Things have just been eating at me. To quote Nietzsche (which if you're my friend on Facebook, you'll see I've been doing plenty of times tonight): "For justice speaks thus to me: 'Men are not equal.'" Life isn't fair. People do horrible things to one another on a daily basis. I am by no means trying to pretend that I am innocent of this. And I get angry about that too. I hate my shortcomings. I hate my lapses of judgment. Hate and anger. Bad emotions that I am not fond of. I acknowledge that they are natural, but I do not readily embrace them. Maybe that is part of the problem.

I know that I usually don't work through things in my life that cause me pain. I just try to go on in the face of them. It may take days or even weeks to work through a situation. But on the other side of that situation I've rarely, if ever, made peace with what happened. I've gotten to the point where I can function, but I've just sort of boxed off the hurt and confusing emotions so that they can't readily get to me on a day-to-day basis. I guess I forget (for a time), but I don't really forgive.

Then, when something happens. I'm going to pull another Nietzsche quote here: "My past broke open its graves, many a pain buried alive awoke: they had only been sleeping, concealed in winding sheets."

So more or less something will open up the Pandora's box of trapped feelings and unresolved problems. Thus, setting me back into a deep depression and a sea of turbulent emotions. I guess that's how I've always dealt with things. (And it could be why I have anxious dreams featuring a cast of characters from my childhood up to the present, all of whom are generally upset/disappointed/unhappy with me for some reason or another. And the dreams of pursuing someone who avidly avoids me and runs away. And of losing someone or something precious and never being able to get it back.

I know I'm not the only depressed person in the world, not by a long shot. But when you are depressed you sure as hell feel alone.

Things That Might've Been...

I often get caught up in thinking what might have been. Generally these are sad or melancholy thoughts. I don't typically look back and think to myself, "Man, I nailed that! Wouldn't change a single thing I did in that situation." I don't really think others do this sort of reflection either. I suppose maybe if you did something really awesome you might, but still...

Having children with autism, I've become very acquainted with "what might have been". Essentially from the time I realized something was wrong and that I couldn't "fix" it, I've been re-imagining how life will be. And that often leads to what might have been. It also leads to what-ifs. What if I could just take my kids on a simple trip to the grocery store by myself without worrying that one of them will have a major meltdown? Or what if they wouldn't refuse to get out of the car, without me literally grabbing them by the feet and having to pull them out while they fight me all the way.

What if I didn't have to monitor them in the bathroom and clean up after them like they were much younger children? What if I didn't dread each night's bedtime not knowing if they'll go to sleep at 10 pm or 4 am? What if I didn't have to worry about them hurting themselves while doing the simplest of things like getting in the car, being around kitchen appliances, or being around common household cleaners?

What if we could do "normal" activities like dance lessons, sports, or having friends over? What if I could just hire and trust a regular babysitter without worrying about my daughters freaking that person out or being miserable because the person has no idea what they want? Or better yet, what if I could leave them home unattended for 30 minutes by themselves? (they turn 13 next month)

I get caught up on these things because living in the present with the stress, confusion, depression, and weariness is hard. So hard sometimes that I just think about what could've been or what might be.

What might be is even more painful than what if, especially as the girls get older. Will I be able to care for them as teenagers and adults? Will they be treated with kindness and respect at a living center if I find I can't take care of them? Will they be abused or neglected because the perpetrator knows the girls can't communicate what has happened to them? Will the girls think I've abandoned them if they no longer live with me?

 These are among the many things I think of on a daily basis. Then there is my life outside of my children. I don't have much of one, and every time I try to it seems to disintegrate rapidly. I am working out again, which not only provides stress relief, but also provides something positive to focus on. I'm trying to get my writing productivity up, but by the time I make enough money with freelance work I'm tired of working and feel unmotivated and uninspired to work on my fiction projects.

And there is heartache. I've become very cynical and hardened against romance over the past four years, as I've had lots of stressful failed relationships. Is it me, I wonder? How much of a factor do my children play a role in this? I'm not looking for a father figure for my children. I'm just looking for an adult that I can relate to and have an affectionate relationship with. Sometimes this seems like I must be asking for too much. Because I just can't seem to swing it. And getting over a broken heart sucks, no matter what. But when you have two high maintenance children to care for it really sucks because they don't understand that I'm sad or what that means. If they see me cry, no matter what the reason, they either ignore me or just stare at me confusedly. Or, as Celest likes to do, stare at me then start laughing like my tears are the funniest thing she's seen in ages.

This makes me feel like giving up on romantic relationships. I just don't feel like I have the energy. Is the reward worth the risk of the pain that comes when it falls apart? Right now I'm leaning towards no. But that's because I'm in the midst of a relationship problem. Give me a few months to heal somewhat and get really lonely and who knows? I might have willingly forgot how much it sucks.

Just another set of what if's and what might have been's for my collection at this point.

Ah, the Products of Angst!

I've been in one of my super anxiety ridden states lately, which is always fun. One of the many fun things about being a hyped up, angst driven person is the truly crappy poems and free form writings the state inspires me to create.

I also get lots of bizarre ideas about things I want to do. My angst has a traveling companion oftentimes. Its name is mania. My manic thoughts want me to deal with my insecurity and anxiety by doing things I wouldn't normally do. Some of my latest winning ideas include:

• going on a ride-along with a patrol cop
• signing up with the county coroner's office to watch an autopsy as research for a writing project
• going to an open mic night for poetry and (fingers crossed!) flash fiction reading (I'd much rather read some of my flash fiction than my poetry)

My angsty poem is so bad I will spare any blog readers the horror of reading it. I will tell you what it's about though, so you can see why I decided not to post it. It's about an anxious and insecure person continually checking his/her email hoping to hear from a special someone; that special someone doesn't respond, so the anxious person speculates about what could possibly keep this other person from sending an email back. I may have been my own inspiration for this poem. I did take some license to exaggerate a bit though.

Writing seems to be helping my anxiety, so I suppose I'm off to create more poorly written poetry.