Happiness is a step away

Well.  Me. My depression. Feeling, knowing when I have broken through the wall and I am beginning to be better. To be more alive, more in touch, more present. I can pin point the day that it happened. Last Tuesday, March 7th. I woke up and I felt good. Not weepy. Not sad. I am not saying that I bounced out of bed, but I was awake before the alarm went off. In the last little while that has not been the case. I have pushed my sleeping time to the max so I can escape.

But here I was, raring to go. And I went. In a storm. I dare say I may have cursed us when I had happened to mention that we had had three months of bad 10% Tuesdays I hoped that wouldn’t happen this time. And what happened? A blizzard blew in. At times we couldn’t even see the highway from the store. I was trying to send people home, calling people off, and yet I was not stressed. I was not feeling pressured, I felt…..dare I say energized.

Wednesday is an early day for me. I have to be at work for 5:30. Drop T off at the sitter’s for 5:15 a.m. and in I go. But I woke up before the alarm.  I showered. I put on a little bit of make up. And to make it even better, I had made T’s lunch the night before so all I had to do was pack his bag. So who is totally rocking it? I get to work and it goes really really well. Except that the alarm kept going off. Like every 2 minutes. There I am counting the tills and all I can hear is beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, but after the 15th time of turning the alarm off I was done. It could squeal as much as it wanted I was ignoring it.

Deep breaths I can do this. And I do. I must have shut that stupid alarm off another approximately 20x Wednesday morning but it was okay. I got my shit done and the day progressed beautifully. But now, now we have the dreaded dental appointment in the afternoon. T requires 4 fillings. So I made appointments one when he was with me and one with his dad. Fair is fair. He mind you has been counting down, excited to get fillings. I don’t understand but hey…..he is 8. We are on our way having an awesome conversation which is sooooooo gonna be another blog and we get there and have to wait.

As an aside I should tell you we brought his stuffie Cayman with us and his blanket from home. They had netflix on the t.v. and his chair massaged him as they did the work. He was a champion. Did not flinch did not cry he was amazing. And they talked him through it. Mom on the other hand did cry.

My week ended with the bf coming out on Friday. And we had several interesting conversations. Like how he knew I was feeling better because my house had been tidied and I had picked up. I was much easier to get along with, not quite so negative. And my eyes blinked very rapidly. My eyes only blink very rapidly when I am trying to process the fact that someone made a comment to me or about me that I cannot even fathom they would say to me. But he did.

We made up. But my story continues. Not to bore you but I am still doing okay. I am feeling good about myself about my writing about my friends and family. I am no longer a raging lunatic. A small sized shrew of a lunatic, but not raging…..laughing at that. My boss and my co-workers have been amazing. My family and friends have stood there waiting for me to come back from the brink. And I am sure they are breathing a desperate sigh of relief. My desire to write and create is returning. I think I will be good. I will never again believe that I will not got through another depressive episode but next time it might be caught quicker and mitigate the damage that I may do.

I am happy. I am satisfied. I am creative. And most of all I am alive.

See me go

You believe in me, the person that I can be

dancing beneath the velvet night sky

Twisting and turning. Romance abounds

or is that my imagination?

I love, I learn, I yearn and I dream

I want to feel your truth

pull me into the warmest embrace

Make me feel your pain.

The acceptance I want, that I desire

you promised to me

Silently, vocally, telling me you understand

and yet, you run for the hills.

I am not a superstar, nor am I normal

I bleed and I flail, hanging by a thread

as I wait for you to see me go.

© Jay-lyn Doerksen

March 12/17

My Darkest Hour

I woke up at 7ish this morning, the one day that I can sleep in without worries. Today is the day T comes back to me at 4 so I have all day to just luxuriate in my decadence. Yes there is laundry to do and beds to be made, but I can have a little lie in. But no. So I took a half an ativan so I could go back to sleep. I was not ready, prepared or even had enough mental stability to face my day.

I cried for over an hour when I went to bed last night. Before that I had been texting and chatting with friends and my support group was circling their wagons to protect me. But none of them were here when I turned the lights off. When I climbed into bed and every sharp edged word spoken to me began to gouge its way into my confidence, my self-worth. The sobs did not wait, they erupted over me, spilling from my eyes like white water when you are rafting. I could not breath. Lucky worried, kept head butting me and curling up against me purring desperately to calm me. Thomas snuggled into the back of my legs, his paws draped over my thighs his version of a hug.

It was a black hour. It was the blackest hour that I have faced in my life.

I am a survivor of sexual abuse. I have always clawed my way back from whatever hell it is that I find myself in. I never doubted my belief in myself that I am a good person, that I care for others, that I put others before myself. Yet last night I doubted. I wondered if all along I have deluded myself and that in reality I am selfish and horrible. That my version of reality is so strongly distorted from how others see it that I wonder, am I even sane?

I looked at the time, I looked at my phone. And I wondered who can I call? Who at 12:30 a.m. is going to be okay if I call them sobbing because I have no more belief, I have no more strength, I just need someone to say it will be okay. Better not call mom because a) she is in her 70’s and a phone call that late means someone is dead, and b) my brother would kill me. Everyone else is asleep and I am so afraid to reach out and disturb anyone because I just cannot. I cannot put my woes, my worries on anyone else.

I finally called one friend who answered on the first ring. Who assured me that it was okay to call. And as I sobbed, blowing my nose in his ear, gasping for breath as each fresh wave of revulsion rolls over me, he tells me it will be okay. That there are people who love me and who cherish me and will protect me. He tells me that the shadows dancing with glee along the wall and above my head, they will vanish as the sunlight returns. He talked for an hour while I listened. I am sure that there were some mumbled incoherent denials of my goodness and worth. The cats sat on either side of me purring and snuggling in. My face and nose hurt from crying but eventually  I calmed down. Eventually I no longer felt that I was a disaster.

My dreams were ugly and distorted. Full of vengeance and venom and darkness. I didn’t sleep without worry I did not sleep without cares. What I found in my dreams were a reflection of self, crowned with Medusa’s snakes hissing and snarling and excluding myself from others. I saw myself as the outsider with no one to turn to. I muttered and tossed in my sleep.

Last night was the darkest hour of my life. I felt sadness that I had never felt before. I felt so worthless that not even the beauty found in my poetry, in my son, was able to make things better. I have come through to the other side. I am shivering. I am scared. I am doubting myself so much I am not sure that I can even face people. But I will. And I will carry on. Because this is only one day, only one night and I have so many more.

More where laughter and love, where wine and good food, where friends and family intermingle, those are the days I have coming to me. One day I will look back. One day I will say yes, that was my bleakest moment. And I will stand to greet the rising sun because it is me who matters……it is how I feel about myself that matters……not the perception that one has of me based on only one side.

 

Wicked Witch

All day long I have been trying to rationalize, look at it from every angle, but still at the end of it I am totally flabbergasted. I was not even aware that there was a problem.

I was a small nugget of success for a short while today. I was feeling good, hell I had not even shed a tear yet. And than things happened.

And culminated in a man I do not know tell me in a very loud voice how I was mean and despised and the Wicked Witch of the West. The loathing that enveloped me from this human being almost sent me to my knees. I could only stand there wide eyed and aghast. My worst nightmare had just come true. Someone literally listed all my faults, out loud, in public, to my face.

I moved on. I gritted my teeth, and with only a few chin quivers I did what I had to do. Barely. The urge, the need to scream my despair, the tears that battered to be let loose, were violent lashings against my psyche. The psyche that this morning was a rosy pink but now was more of a brownish yellow sludge.

I was finally relieved and able to fly off but it was an ugly cry. I shuddered, snot running out of my nose, I couldn’t see I was sobbing so hard. Have you ever had a man who is not a relative or married to you try to comfort you? LOL while they have the best intentions they just don’t know what to do.

Girl posse to the rescue. One made me sit on her lap while I sobbed and snoted on her shoulder. She than ran off to get girl #2 cause as she put it she was sick of my snot on her sweater and she was sharing the wealth. And they raged. And they roared. And they gave me back myself.  They rebuilt what had been shattered.

I still wasn’t perfect. Tears still leaked from my eyes. But they gave me back that sense of pride in myself. As did the man attempting to comfort me who is neither relative nor husband and he did a good job.  I will not allow one small person to derail my progress. I will not allow one small man to have this much control over how I see myself. No more will I fear being too strong, too harsh, too unforgiving. For I have been and I ended up being kicked in the teeth.

I take deep breaths. And I let them out. Tonight I am going to obliterate. I am going to sink into decadence and pleasure and wash the negativity of the day away. I will burn my incense and melt my scented wax, and I will not allow this to drag me under. It nearly did, I nearly drowned in the undertow, but I have a crew who dragged me back and I love them for that.

How did I make you cry?

So your friend, your mother, your sister, your brother etc are depressed. And you call them with the best intentions. You are calling to give them support, offer your love and devotion, tell them that they are not alone. And yet at the end of the call when they are sobbing and assuring you it is not your fault, you are stuck wondering what the fuck you did.

You were nice. You said the right words, your mouthed the right platitudes, but in the end, you just do not get it.

Depression is not easily understood. You cannot talk to someone else about it. You cannot ask them for their experience. Because what they have gone through I have not! My loathing and disgust has no bearing on someone else’s. I am angry and no,  I will not benefit from talking to someone because at 44 years old, I already know all the shit that is wrong with me. I know my triggers and I know that my dad was an asshole but that is another story.

I have spoken to therapists and counsellors.  I have gorged my pain and reiterated the loathing. That is no longer the issue here. The issue is my seratonin levels are fucked up. There is something wrong with my brain chemistry. And I am okay with that. What I need to do is suck it up and accept it.

But this post is not really about me. It is for those who are confused because they reached out, they were supportive, they wanted to understand and yet you sobbed, you stammered, you made no sense. And the whole reason behind that is that they were nice to you. It is the niceness that is the killer. For my sake……this might not be for all who live with depression so sound it out first…..do not be nice to me.

Baby Bro

I have always looked for comfort, not for partnership

It has always been easier to be the one who cares

Not the one who receives care because well that is just silly.

I was seven when my circumstance changed,

I was fourteen when I rebelled and fucked my brother up

I swore that he would never age the way that I did

And yet what did I do, I left the house, I ran away

he felt responsible and that broke my heart.

He and me we are the same……

he just doesn’t want to know.

I love that boy with all my heart

he is my rock, my guardian, he is my brother.

 

Acceptance

I brood, and I snarl with disgust, watching you slither

your voice is but a whine pitched deep in my ear

a whine that I want to stop

a whine replaced by a blade?

Pin pricks dotted with blood

you yelp and you disclaim

Am I suppose to hear your sorries

am I suppose to really believe you are sane?

I know the voices I hear are my own

there are no others within my head

So here is the fear that you must accept

I am always going to make you pay.

 

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

March 2/17