A bit of a rant, but I was looking through some dresses earlier, and got about half way down a page when I had to stop. I knew that i kept at it I would end up crying again, and I'm trying to avoid that. The fatalism that accompanies this seems to haunt me. It aids in the depression. One of the reasons I'm anxious to start doing things is because it seems I'll never get to where I want to be. I know it is a slow process, and that is one reason why it seems so impossible.
"Get busy living, or get busy dieing"
I can't remember where that quote is from, but it rings true in these circumstances. It seems everyday that I don't do something to move in one direction, I'm dragged father in the other. At least now I've gotten some breathing room from school, not much, but at least some. A little time to relax can do wonders, but I don't think it will make looking at dresses any easier. It sure doesn't help with the fatalism anyways, and its good sidekick depression. With their oh so clever and undeniable mantras of "never be" and "so why bother".
Sigh. Remind me to think about anti-depressants when I actually get time to think.
"Get busy living, or get busy dieing"
I can't remember where that quote is from, but it rings true in these circumstances. It seems everyday that I don't do something to move in one direction, I'm dragged father in the other. At least now I've gotten some breathing room from school, not much, but at least some. A little time to relax can do wonders, but I don't think it will make looking at dresses any easier. It sure doesn't help with the fatalism anyways, and its good sidekick depression. With their oh so clever and undeniable mantras of "never be" and "so why bother".
Sigh. Remind me to think about anti-depressants when I actually get time to think.
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ReplyDeleteCrying is not such a bad thing, I now think.
ReplyDeleteI know I would do anything not to cry because it felt like the stuff that was making me want to would be released from the nice tight lid I had on it all. ANd that lid was keeping me alive -- but not exactly LIVING.
But, I felt if crying opened it up a hair I feared it explode like a dam and of course be so overwhelming it might kill me, envelope me, drown me.
But I also realized the only way out was through, (another old quote of someone's).
So one day I let myself cry, the "vomiting" kind, when I was in the shower. Not literally but you must know the kind I mean. I ended up in a fetal position on the bathtub floor all pruny. But it was out. And I lived, And it wasn't that bad. In fact I felt a weenie bit better. And at least in that moment I was living my truth, authentically. And when that is where I come from, everything is wierdly alright.
So, then next time I felt like I was going to cry, maybe a day or so later, I grabbed a stuffed animal, allowing myself to feel 2 years old, when wailing was a regular part of the repetoire. Surprisingly, it lasted only a few minutes and it was over. No more vomiting death fearing crying.
I never liked to throw up when I got drunk, which is why I never drank. I mavelled at people like my sister who could go and do it, as if it were just a piece of business to get done. She said to me, look, the body has a poison in it and just needs to get it out to save you and it's going to do it any way it can. If you give in to it and work WITH the body instead of resisting and being in hell for hours, you'll feel better much faster.
That rule seems to fit with crying too... Know what I mean?