Days when you just want to beat your head against a wall...

I'm stuck.

Stonewalled.

Waist–deep in the muck.

Swimming through a goddamned lake of half–chewed bubble gum.

Isn't therapy supposed to help by now? Or something? Change something? Anything at all?

I think I'd feel better even if I were feeling worse, if that makes any sense. I just don't get it. Here I'm being given all these strategies, all these techniques, and I don't seem to be getting a handle on myself at all.

I haven't cut in a month or so, not since my second session after which my therapist told me I wasn't allowed to cut during therapy. Go me. It bothers me to no end that I could stop so "easily," that all it took was someone in a position of authority to tell me "don't do that" and I stopped. Just like that.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I couldn't do it before?

So now what?

I just go through the motions every day, and I don't dread getting out of bed and life from the outside seems pretty good and minor annoyances don't make me flip out the way they used to.

Except I'm pretty sure that's the Paxil talking. So what happens when I stop taking it? Do I go back to being a "mood disorder not otherwise specified" "type II bipolar" or whatever new label they want to assign?

I feel like I'm on a treadmill that's going ever so slightly too fast. I'm keeping up for the moment, but one day I'll run out of breath and get mowed down like roadkill. Just a bloody splat on the side of the road which people either ignore or turn away from in disgust.

:"(


I'm reduced to crying by emoticon because I can't do it for real anymore. Dry-eyed, I can face the world with a brave smile and take anything that's dished out, and I'm not sure why.

I'm not even frightened. Not anything. Just numb.

Well, that's not quite true. I think if I looked hard enough I could find a small, vestigial, atrophied little bit of an emotion lurking in there somewhere, so shrivelled it's almost unrecognisable, stretching out its arms towards me and begging me to take it back home and nourish it back to life...

Days when you just want to beat your head against a wall...

I'm stuck.

Stonewalled.

Waist–deep in the muck.

Swimming through a goddamned lake of half–chewed bubble gum.

Isn't therapy supposed to help by now? Or something? Change something? Anything at all?

I think I'd feel better even if I were feeling worse, if that makes any sense. I just don't get it. Here I'm being given all these strategies, all these techniques, and I don't seem to be getting a handle on myself at all.

I haven't cut in a month or so, not since my second session after which my therapist told me I wasn't allowed to cut during therapy. Go me. It bothers me to no end that I could stop so "easily," that all it took was someone in a position of authority to tell me "don't do that" and I stopped. Just like that.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I couldn't do it before?

So now what?

I just go through the motions every day, and I don't dread getting out of bed and life from the outside seems pretty good and minor annoyances don't make me flip out the way they used to.

Except I'm pretty sure that's the Paxil talking. So what happens when I stop taking it? Do I go back to being a "mood disorder not otherwise specified" "type II bipolar" or whatever new label they want to assign?

I feel like I'm on a treadmill that's going ever so slightly too fast. I'm keeping up for the moment, but one day I'll run out of breath and get mowed down like roadkill. Just a bloody splat on the side of the road which people either ignore or turn away from in disgust.

:"(


I'm reduced to crying by emoticon because I can't do it for real anymore. Dry-eyed, I can face the world with a brave smile and take anything that's dished out, and I'm not sure why.

I'm not even frightened. Not anything. Just numb.

Well, that's not quite true. I think if I looked hard enough I could find a small, vestigial, atrophied little bit of an emotion lurking in there somewhere, so shrivelled it's almost unrecognisable, stretching out its arms towards me and begging me to take it back home and nourish it back to life...

And now for something we hope you'll REALLY like

Realised I hadn't updated my weekend.

Friday was one of the best times I've had in a long time, as quiet evenings with friends go.

Dinner with joane and Rich was wonderful. Watching her light the candles and celebrate the Sabbath was peaceful and uplifting in a way that I've only ever experienced in Church before, and somehow I knew I was in the presence of God once more. "My" God as well as hers, and Rich's.

I managed not to cry, which was a blessing. ;)

We had a blast after that. Rich kept us in stitches most of the time. The man has a face like Jim Carey, but actually good-looking and with a beard. Like joane said: "The man's a living toon." If you ever meet him, ask him to do the octopus impression. It's a riot.

Lots of bad jokes, silly anecdotes, discussions about fish (joane's a fantabulous cook, btw) and the like, and what constitutes kosher and non-kosher and how kosher makes sense in a desert setting.

Played a really kewl card game called something like "Body Snatchers From Outer Space" about making your very own B-movie and destroying everyone else's.

I molested joane's cat Wumpus to my heart's content. He really is a sweetie. Licked my nose. :)

We had a blast until midnight or half-past, at which point Poms and I kicked ourselves out.

Spent Saturday at Celtic Festival with Poms. The man is a saint, because I was in a crappy mood all day, not helped by the fact that I was annoyed with myself for going over budget, not to mention oversleeping because of late night and being even later to help my mother drop off her bird at the vet for boarding.

I felt better by the evening though, and the last three concerts were lovely.

Met up with cymry and fordcov and belfana as well as cymry's SO whose name unfortunately escapes me right now. Had momentary scare when I thought I'd lost my camera, but later on it turned out to be in the car, much to my relief. Must get film developed later.

Sunday was quiet. Went to church by myself for the first time in, well, forever, and it felt nice. Was mildly irked at priest's sermon about how it was our responsibility to convert the masses back to Christianity and to lead our friends away from living in sin and not getting married (Darroch, consider this my one prompt ;) ). Overall was wonderful to be inducted back into the mysteries of my faith.

Spent Sunday quietly puttering around my apartment and catching up on reparo and cleaning up a little. Took a long nap which did me a lot of good, then stayed up too late and was two minutes late for work this morning.

Hope that won't be held against me. I already have a tally against me at work for "chronic tardiness" (I was late five minutes three times since I was hired).

Day was uneventful. Only had to call help desk three times, which I think is a record for me.

May try to toddle off to bed early.

And now for something we hope you'll REALLY like

Realised I hadn't updated my weekend.

Friday was one of the best times I've had in a long time, as quiet evenings with friends go.

Dinner with joane and Rich was wonderful. Watching her light the candles and celebrate the Sabbath was peaceful and uplifting in a way that I've only ever experienced in Church before, and somehow I knew I was in the presence of God once more. "My" God as well as hers, and Rich's.

I managed not to cry, which was a blessing. ;)

We had a blast after that. Rich kept us in stitches most of the time. The man has a face like Jim Carey, but actually good-looking and with a beard. Like joane said: "The man's a living toon." If you ever meet him, ask him to do the octopus impression. It's a riot.

Lots of bad jokes, silly anecdotes, discussions about fish (joane's a fantabulous cook, btw) and the like, and what constitutes kosher and non-kosher and how kosher makes sense in a desert setting.

Played a really kewl card game called something like "Body Snatchers From Outer Space" about making your very own B-movie and destroying everyone else's.

I molested joane's cat Wumpus to my heart's content. He really is a sweetie. Licked my nose. :)

We had a blast until midnight or half-past, at which point Poms and I kicked ourselves out.

Spent Saturday at Celtic Festival with Poms. The man is a saint, because I was in a crappy mood all day, not helped by the fact that I was annoyed with myself for going over budget, not to mention oversleeping because of late night and being even later to help my mother drop off her bird at the vet for boarding.

I felt better by the evening though, and the last three concerts were lovely.

Met up with cymry and fordcov and belfana as well as cymry's SO whose name unfortunately escapes me right now. Had momentary scare when I thought I'd lost my camera, but later on it turned out to be in the car, much to my relief. Must get film developed later.

Sunday was quiet. Went to church by myself for the first time in, well, forever, and it felt nice. Was mildly irked at priest's sermon about how it was our responsibility to convert the masses back to Christianity and to lead our friends away from living in sin and not getting married (Darroch, consider this my one prompt ;) ). Overall was wonderful to be inducted back into the mysteries of my faith.

Spent Sunday quietly puttering around my apartment and catching up on reparo and cleaning up a little. Took a long nap which did me a lot of good, then stayed up too late and was two minutes late for work this morning.

Hope that won't be held against me. I already have a tally against me at work for "chronic tardiness" (I was late five minutes three times since I was hired).

Day was uneventful. Only had to call help desk three times, which I think is a record for me.

May try to toddle off to bed early.

I am the MASTER of all things Photoshop! MUAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

I have a new pic! Look! Innit pretty?

*grin*

I am the MASTER of all things Photoshop! MUAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

I have a new pic! Look! Innit pretty?

*grin*