// Really trying to get myself writing...
| 10/26/2002 - 10:53 a.m. |

Eh, I'm not really sure why I'm bothering posting all this, cuz I don't think this thing gets read very often (i never get any comments *pout*), but anyways, I started journaling again, good old pen & paper journaling, a few days ago. I really have barely written at all this past year or so, despite how much I should be, esp. compared with how I used to back in the day. For now at least, I'm going to try and post a copy of my entries here as well...

10-24-02, 10:30pm
So, I realized today that Halloween is in 1 week. My supposed recovery anniversary. 5 yrs (and tweety's bday, heh, :-)). And here I am in hell. So I decided to start a new journal. My last one, a gift from C., is nearly 2 years old and yet not even half filled (and the binding is all screwed up). Felt like I needed something fresh--a plain old notebook is sort of a depressing choice granted...but fitting. Besides I don't need to be fancy or pretty or cute here--I just need to fucking write. I need to start doing *something* to help myself here because...well, the current state of affairs has gone way beyond ridiculous. So even if I just write a few irrelevant sentences while outside for a cig (hey, thats how my letters to C. get written) or even just copy something I posted online, at least its something, some small expression of myself, something not confined to my head or the computer...something to start with. Something to give myself a little tiny bit of hope even? Well, lets not get too carried away here...

10-25-02, 11:20am
I'm awake. No, scratch that, I'm out of bed. Groggy and cranky as usual. Blah, blah, blah.

12:40pm
So S. just cajoled me into letter her buy that book for me. Shit I forget what it is even called. Really really sweet of her and she insisted...but I feel bad. Anyways, I missed talking to her this past week. I feel like she is the only one who can really understand, and the only person I don't avoid talking to 1-on-1 because I don't feel like I have to pretend or make an effort to sound reasonably ok.

2:00pm
Talked to my aunt c. for a bit a little while ago. She is one of my very favorite people, but she doesn't "get it." That was most obvious to me a few weeks ago (maybe more, I have no concept of time anymore) and she was saying how she felt like she'd finally come out of the funk she's been in since Peggy died and sort of offhandedly remarked, "I guess I was depressed." Ummmm, no. Sad, going through a rough period, grieving, sure. Maybe even some symptoms of depression here and there. But when you've continued to be ms. high-functioning, super-competent HR director for a big-ass hospital, finished a novel, started another, returned to school for a 2nd masters, as well as still having and enjoying a personal life, etc.--well, I'd love to be so depressed.

7:40pm
Talking to J. a bit online. Its been a while. I mentioned that I was sad to hear about her senator and she actually hadn't heard yet about Wellstone. Damn, I mean I wouldn't wish such a tragedy on anyone, but if a politician had to go, why did it have to be one of the most liberal senators we've got, and an advocate for mental health issues to boot? Grrrr...

9:45pm
Just came across a post on TF that was talking about this site the person came across that was supposed to be a recovery site, but had lots of 'great trigger stuff.' It was my site. Not the first time I've heard that response, and I've known all along that there would be people who used the info. for non-healthy purposes. I used to do the same damn thing. (11:15pm) I've also received praise for the site from "pro-recovery" people, but I'm still conflicted. My biggest motivation for the site is that *I* enjoy working on it. (And there is very little I enjoy these days.) Am I being selfish? Irresponsible even? I don't really think so, or else the site wouldn't exist. I mean I do think my beliefs/values/principles outweight my personal desires about something like this, at least most of the time. Eh, I dunno--more tomorrow...

10-26-02, 6:55am!
Yes thats the right time. Its still fucking dark and here I am out on the porch smoking. Perhaps cuz I just had a dream in which I murdered my father and then went out on the street celebrating? Um, yeah. Not the first nightmare I've had in recent months where he is after me, and often my mom and bro too as in this one, trying to hurt me somehow and I'm running and scared shitless. This one is already fuzzy, but at the start of it, he was somehow being violent towards me. There was some stuff in between I think and then me and mom and bro were all like barricaded in the house (J. Rd.) and he and 2 other men (no clue who they were) are outside, trying to break in, with guns pointed at us through the windows. And then I suddenly have my own gun, hidden in the bathroom. It starts out as a handgun, but as soon as I start shooting, it becomes some sort of machine gun or something because within seconds they are all dead and its a pretty gruesome scene. I run outside, hopping right over the bodies, and start yelling and clapping, although at first I also seem to be looking around a bit nervously afraid there might be more danger in hiding. But then some people start to gather and so I feel protected and safe and that its finally over...

Disturbing in so many ways. One yeah he's an abusive asshole and all, but he's not really evil. And me, the pacifist, whos never even seen a gun IRL that wasn't on the body of a police officer, let alone held and shot one, and like I knew exactly what I was doing.

But then I think, well he could actually be representing my depression, and wouldn't I be gleeful to slaughter that. Along with its sidekicks, ED and anxiety, and who knows what else. And I do try and protect the people I care about from all of it. I'm reading back over all this and that theory does make a lot of sense. But its still fucking disturbing...

9:15am
Although I'm still considering, I haven't gone back to bed yet. Actually I should be getting ready to go to the demonstration, but *erm* I don't think so...

I'm really surprised how much I've managed to write this much already. Cig breaks are too short to get real into anything, but its something. And its managable. Just bring my notebook out with me, blab for 5 or so minutes, not too overwhelming. I can't bring myself to do anything but sit in front of the computer when I'm in the house, so its a good compromise I feel. (Not like I need any more excuses to smoke, heh, but whatever.)