|Diary Page Seventy-Seven|
|September 13, 2008 - If there's a cure for this I don't want it....
I just thought of something. For a long time I've believed that "I must like it" is the reasoning behind why I keep repeating destructive patterns and engaging in unhealthy behaviors. I must be getting something out of it and that's why I keep doing it. Therefore, there is some critical flaw in me that has to be corrected and until that happens, I will stay messed up. This way of thinking casts a pall of doom over everything. If I try to pick myself up and make changes, I always know in the back of my mind that I'm going to end up back down again. I feel desperate and then I feel resigned. Now it has gotten to the point that I'm not willing to really try unless I can believe change will be long-term. I have therapy to thank for my newer, more stable approach. In many ways this slow and steady approach has really helped me, but I still need to get over the hump. I feel ready to bust with the anticipation of a real life and the frustration of not living it (yet).
So I asked myself, "Why don't I want to get better?" because I assumed that I must not want to, or at least some part of me doesn't. And I believe that this is true, there is some part of me that doesn't want to get better, but now I don't think I have to root this part out before I can make strides! The key realization just came to me: it's not necessarily that I like it this way, but I don't know any other way. Maybe I'd thrive in a different environment. In fact, I know I would, because I have. Maybe it's not all my fault and it's not all in my control. Maybe there were some critical parts of my life when I had no control and that's when I learned a lot of these unhealthy patterns and behaviors. Maybe I compulsively repeat these patterns and behaviors, not because deep down I like it this way, but because I have little to no experience of anything else and no idea how to go about it. Maybe that's why I've done so well when I've been in different environments (living in the apartment, living in California), and maybe it's not some fatal flaw in me.
Now I'm not going to be able to get out of here right away, nor do I believe that everything is the fault of my home. But I do believe that a lot would change if I could just live elsewhere and elsewise. This really frees me to make strides to get better now while I am still here. If I don't look at myself as being flawed but rather as simply ignorant of other ways, then I can get help to learn to take care of myself and behave better.
|November 15, 2008: I haven't cried in a very long time and now that I've started again part of me doesn't want to stop. I want to hold on to the intensity of this emotion. Intensity has not been part of my life for too long. Even writing this I feel like I have to separate myself in order to do it. I am always separating and compartmentalizing and figuring out how to act. Only when I indulge in self-pity do I truly go inward, so pity I must. For a few months I've felt such a void. There's nothing but a hole where Danielle should be. It's all very curious and probably tragic but the scene is so devoid of anything that it's hard to care. Well, now that I've started writing of course I've stopped crying, that's how it works. But I don't WANT to stop, not when I just started! But if I don't write I'll just sink deeper and deeper. The thing about writing is I have to observe myself so I am no longer just being.
Most of the time I don't even know what day it is.
Losing music probably hurt the most. In the last week or so I realized I've lost it. Music hurts and being without music hurts. Songs are so full of life but now every one is a reminder of just how empty mine is. I wish I had a broken heart because that means I had a heart to break. I really doubt the nature of my heart, the nature of who I am. I don't know. All of these years of analysis and introspection and I haven't come far at all. Well, perhaps I'm not completely empty. I am FULL of doubt. I've become more cynical as a result. What I doubt the most: that there is anything in me that can ever be reached. I can't reach it but I can't trust enough to let anyone else in to try, and I need God to reach me but I can't be vulnerable with Him either. I am broken.
Ahh, and the tears return. Well that's a blessing.
November 16, 2008: At least I received a blessing today in the form of someone else's perspective. I was talking to my brother as he prepares to move out of the house. He's been taking St. John's Wort for his mild persistent depression and yet he doesn't feel right. No he doesn't get too high and he doesn't get too low, he stays on an even keel but it's at a low level. Listening to him I could really empathize with his position. I've been taking the Zoloft long enough for it to make an impression and it certainly has, keeping me from descending into the depths of hopelessness and keeping suicidal thoughts out of my head. The last thing I want is to die, in fact, for the first time in a long time I'm starting to worry about dying. I certainly don't want to die as I am right now. In addition to keeping me from being suicidal, Zoloft has also really helped me clear my head. I can think better and concentrate more.
But I'm still low. The thing is, my life is pretty empty. This was what my brother was saying when he compared how he feels to a scene from a movie about people who can't age or die. One of them said that they're just like rocks and always there in the stream of everyone else's life. That's how my brother is feeling and I feel something like that as well. My brother even said the same thing I wrote about before, feeling like every day just blends together and losing track of what day it is. It's not like we don't have anything to do. There's actually a LOT to do. Magazines unread, new publications unopened, the Bible only receiving cursory glances when I get an impulse to remember something. Oh there's plenty to do. I've even had a new offer of friendship (this without even leaving the house for weeks or talking to anybody). So I've had the medication and good therapy for the past 9 or 10 months. I have plenty with which to occupy myself. I don't feel completely disconnected from life or humanity as I have in the past. I don't want to be as a rock, I want to be as the stream. I know that I'll run into rocks and obstacles, but right now I feel like I am the rock, the obstacle in my own life.
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