I should be writing every day, but somehow I get distracted by one thing or another. It's fucking hard to concentrate on one thing only. Today my excuse was writing long replies to some pretty sad emails that are a lot like mine, passed back and forth. It kind of got me down, but I had to reply. I don't like to leave people hanging. They need to know that I'm here and that I care.
The past couple of days, I've been able to get out at least to the Starbucks on the corner, just a block away, past sleeping homeless people and restaurant owners doing some kind of early morning business.
The last few months I've been wanting a gun. Not to shoot myself! That's never been the method I'd try, and I believe everyone has their own way to "opt out". Mine is pills and more recently, tall buildings. I haven't been thinking about suicide in a... suicidal way. I just imagine what I'd lose and who I'd lose. I've just been extremely depressed, but it's mostly been due to crippling anxiety I had been feeling for so damn long, making me almost a total shut-in. The anxiety had become worse than the depression.Then suddenly I'm able to get out the door three days in a row, I think. I think it might be the seroquel.
My usual little thing is to just throw on some clothes, try not to care about my looks, wear sunglasses, and somehow push myself out the door. I recently got a bus pass, which is even more incentive for me to just hop a bus and go downtown, at least.
I had a misunderstanding with my spouse the other night and we were ignoring each other. I hate going to bed angry, without getting shit out of the way. I'll stay up all night if I have to, but in his case, I couldn't. He had to work the following day, and get up at the asscrack of dawn. He told me to "fuck off" earlier because I wouldn't be his dictionary for spelling a word he needed there and then for some forum he was writing in at the time. Assy, yeah. He couldn't be bothered to open another window and look it up, but somehow I'm
The next day I went downtown as planned, but found myself way to early. I forgot to check on the house for the headquarters. I there early and didn't want to go find some place to drink coffee, so I sat on a bench around the side of the building, in front of another building. It was the municipal court. The benches in front (in my corner) were empty. Two older guys dug through the giant ashtray searching for butts. I watched the colored lights in the fountain change colors while I listened to my iPod for a full hour.
Finally the cop shop was open, I went in, paid money, applied for a permit, and got my fingerprints done. The office was run by two older ladies, and the one that worked with me was very nice. I know it sounds wrong to others for me to get a permit and eventually a pistol, but I want to shoot, and like I said, shooting myself is NOT my "out" of choice. A friend of mine has a gun and it was fun just shooting targets on her family's property out in the sticks. It would certainly make me feel more safe when I go out alone, because of so much harassment I've had in the past, including the incident a block away from where I live.
Sure, I'm going through one of the worst depressed and crippling anxiety cycles ever, but I'm not suicidal. I'm depressed about my life and ? I've no reason for the anxiety. Who can explain any of this shit that we didn't bring down on ourselves. I've no fear that I'm going to lose and and do something stupid or wrong. If I can live with a stash of pills that could easily kill me, I can sure as hell handle a gun. I doubt anybody other than another nut would believe that.
I want desperately to be able to continue to go outside, to go anywhere, even if it's only the corner coffee joint, or outside to smoke. I'll be forced out to catch a bus to visit the shrink on Wednesday. Not looking forward to that, but I'm going to try not to think about it until the night before. It'll be hard. Very hard.
WARNING AT BOTTOM OF PAGE
This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...
This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.