"Please don't take a picture..."

I spent most of March and February posting fluff in here. Or, at least, only marginal updates. I missed my LJ's five-year anniversary on the 22nd of February (or thereabouts). At least I haven't degenerated to the point of only posting memes.

The short version is that I'm sort of having a hard time right now. I won't bore you with the details. I feel pretty guilty about complaining about this, since I know so many other people have actual problems. I have a job, I'm keeping my head above water, and I'm plugging along.

The worst part of mental illness is the constant fear. Anyone who's had any sort of severe bout of mental illness or breakdown will know what I'm talking about. It's the fear that dogs your footsteps, and lurks at your heels, and tears at the edges of your reason. It's a legitimate fear, too, which makes it all the more terrible. It's the "What If" of all what ifs, and every time you have a bad day it comes back in full force. It's an overwhelming, paralyzing sensation of "Oh God, what if it's happening all over again?"

I don't want to go back. No one I know wants to go back. It's the single worst thing I can imagine ever happening to me. When I was at my worst, sometimes the only thing that kept me from suicide was the notion that my punishment, my own personal hell, would be to spend eternity feeling exactly the way I was feeling then, with no way out, no possibility of reprieve. It was the worst punishment I could think up. So I stayed alive, figuring that the devil you knew was better than the devil you didn't.

So here's the Catch-22. If you're having an off day, the thought that will immediately spring into your mind is precisely the fear that it's all starting over again, that you're in for months or years of crippling depression, of psychotic mood swings, of screaming at the people you love without really knowing why you're doing it. Years of riding along in your mind and body like a passenger, able to give directions but not quite in control of the steering wheel and the brakes and gas. The fear then builds in your mind, your anxiety levels skyrocket, and your day gets proportionately worse. Your mind then uses this as "proof" that you're going off the rails again, and the cycle perpetuates itself.

Ever wonder what it would be like to have your mind be your own worst enemy? Your mind is one of your most powerful weapons. Ever see what happens when someone turns a gun on themselves? It has much the same effect, though it's not as visible and not nearly as gory, at least not right away.

Fear is a healthy thing. It keeps you alive. Fear of sliding back into mental illness is a good thing, in certain ways: it's one part of you trying to keep the other part of you alive. Except that both parts are inextricably linked, and the fear feeds into itself.


The main point of this post is just to let people know I'm still here. If you need me, I'll be hiding under a rock for the next little while. :P

Time travel would just confuse me even more

Why oh why is it only 8:30? Time goes too fast for me, generally speaking (for instance, who authorized it to be nearly the end of March? Wasn't it January yesterday?), except for moments like these, in which I desperately want it to be later in the day.

Two thefts and one recovery this shift. Not bad. The recovery was made in less than an hour, and the other car's boomerang wasn't answering, which means we can't track it. So.

Otherwise? Deadly dull. Very little to do.

I got some writing done. If I can muster the energy when I get home tonight, I shall transcribe the two instalments of BTP that I have and put them up. Otherwise, it will happen tomorrow morning. I'm aiming for five instalments a week, instead of one per day. My weekends tend to be write-offs (no pun intended), even when I don't have band practice.

The new guy is researching hand guns on the internet on the computer beside me. This appears to be a favourite pastime of his, though I can't for the life of me figure out why. It seems to me that researching handguns is not all that appropriate when you're working for a security company. It has already raised a number of eyebrows among his colleagues. Then again, he worked for the American consulate before coming here, so maybe that explains it. ;)

The deck of cards I have is too slippery to make for a good game of solitaire. All the cards keep sliding around and messing up my game. The computer I'm on doesn't have a copy of solitaire on it, which is very sad, as it means I'm bored. Miaow!

I am looking forward to going home, maybe watching some Babylon 5, and then hitting the proverbial hay. I am stupidly tired.

I love my new Sesame Street icon, in unrelated news. :)

Stars

For the second time in two weeks, I looked up as I left the parking lot at work, and saw stars. The Big Dipper, and Orion, to be more specific.

Part of me is sad that it's a special event for me to see stars in the city. The rest of me is just really happy that I got to see them again.