The Blob

Deep, vicious depression is one of the most impossible things to try an explain to people who do not feel it. I have read plenty of articles, posts by friends and acquaintances from support groups I am a part of on Facebook all explaining the pain they are going through. But none that I feel really gets to the heart of how incredibly devastating it is. I feel like I could type for hours and all that will come out is a jumbled mush of words that will still not come across in a way that would properly describe the complete loneliness, hopelessness, desperation, and pain of depression. I know many people suffer differently. Not every mental illness is the same and thats why every treatment and pill is different. The human brain is difficult to treat. You can not examine it the way you can a broken bone or a regular disease. When going to the psychiatrist for my bipolar disorder it's like having a handful of meds being thrown at me and seeing which ones maybe stick just enough to bring me some form of peace. In no way am I cured. The medicine just helps to settle things to where I can feel some kind of "normal". I still get depressed. I still get manic. Just much less so.
Right now my life's circumstances have left me in a very severe depression. There are days where the anxiety from it leaves me in physical pain because my chest and throat feel so tight, it hurts to swallow.
My family says "Just think of the things you have to be GRATEFUL for,"
I know what I have that is great. I am very grateful for my wonderful fiance, the apartment I love, my dog... but that doesn't change my depression. That doesn't make it go away.
I feel overwhelmed by the bad. Sometimes as small as the bad may be at one time. To me it feels so large that like The Blob it spreads over all the happy things and consumes them. I have many things I would love to do to bring me happiness but my motivation is stunted. I feel like moving and doing anything is nearly impossible. I can't even bring myself to shower most days. I wish more than anything I could do these things and be better. I dream about it. I wish people could understand what it feels like to just feel like you CAN'T. To sometimes lie there and not even want to breathe because of the effort. To have no recent pictures with a genuine smile because what reason do I have to smile?
I keep myself awake at night daydreaming so vividly of better things. Of my job changing, of me being able to get up and do the things I love, of the conversations I want to have, the places I want to go, the way I want to look. But I pop some klonopin to quiet my brain so I can sleep. I cry silently in bed. I am a failure in my eyes. I will never get past this. I will always be in pain.
I wish I had encouraging words at the end of this but I don't.
All I can say is if you have a loved one with mental illness please make sure they don't feel alone. Lay next to them and hold them. Tell them they matter. They are wonderful and special and beautiful. That you love them. Help them get out of painful situations that are hurting them. You being there for them and supporting them means more to them than you understand.

My Dreams

I have been pretty much on my own since I turned eighteen. Bouncing from apartment to apartment, job to job to try and make ends meet. I never had the money or means to go to college beyond a few community college classes and honestly between working full-time and all my mental health issues I really didn't have the time or energy anyway. I have had my struggles and I have worked really hard to get where I am in my field to be able to support myself. I make decent money and live.
I was talking to my therapist this week and she asked me about my dreams. I told her "I don't have the luxury of dreams."

This doesn't mean I don't have them. What I meant is I don't have the luxury of even entertaining the idea that any of them are a reality. I have no support to quit my job and pursue them, I have no time in my busy life to truly work on them (I barely have time to write here), I can't go to school, I just... can't. I am very hopeful. I try to do the things I love in my limited spare time but most of the time they fall to the wayside. Most people just say I am not trying hard enough. I could if I wanted to. This makes me roll my eyes. Sure, tell me I can go back to college if I just saved enough when I live paycheck to paycheck to just keep the nice little life that keeps me together every day. Sure, tell me I can just make time if I was dedicated enough. You have no idea what it's like to be so emotionally exhausted at the end of the day that you literally fall asleep at 9:30 PM while just looking at your phone. I don't know if you know what it's like to cry every night and morning because you are so depressed that your life is not what you want it to be. That you will just have to work a job you have no love for till you die. And this is your life. And you do dream, you dream of wonderful, beautiful things but you know that you are trapped.
I know that there are others who have sacrificed. I know my situation isn't special. I know this pain is felt by plenty who sacrificed happiness for being able to survive.To you, I feel your pain. I feel your sorrow. I wish we could all be happy because we only get these one lives and the fact that we have to live them so trapped in misery is a crime. So tied to survival.
I hope one day I can find a way. I hope we all can.
Until then I try to find the small ways to make this better. It's hard, the depression and anxiety is literally physically painful most days. Hours shouldn't be counted down but savored. Dreams shouldn't be a luxury.

The John Goodman Project: Barton Fink

I know it's been a hot minute guys, but let's take a break from the sadness going on and dive into one of my absolute FAVORITE John Goodman films of all time, Barton Fink.
This movie is every writer's nightmare. Excluding just the fact that the John Goodman element is EVERYONES' nightmare. Barton Fink is hailed as a genius stage writer in New York that is offered a job to write for the "moving pictures" in the golden land of Hollywood. He is hesitant because he thinks that it will tarnish his ability to be a "writer for the common man" but he goes because money, right? Everyone loves money. When he gets there he insists that he stay in a dirty hole of a place because he is ONE WITH THE COMMON MAN. He wants to live in squalor and filth. He looks at the money, and sure he takes it but he doesn't want to compromise his art. Did I mention the guy who works at the hotel is Chet! played by Steve Buscemi? Because it is and it's delightful. So he is given a project, a wrestling movie, and he goes on to try and write it which he just is having so much trouble with. He's got that writer's block. Also, he keeps looking at this damn beach painting.
Enter John Goodman. He is crying in the room next door. Weird, right? Why is he crying? Barton Fink complains to Chet! and then in comes our lovable goof. He is nice. He is SO nice that it feels... weird. Something feels just... off about him. Barton Fink doesn't seem to notice. He just keeps going on and on about his problems. Always talking over his new companion.
While stuck in his writers block Barton meets another writer who never stops drinking or beating his wife or yelling. This guy completely bashes in the image that Barton had of his beloved hero who for some reason is this jackass. He stole his wife's work and is just a total asshole. Oh, and he doesn't solve Barton's writer's block. Instead of doing any writing he sleeps with the guys wife and then wakes up next to her murdered corpse. DON'T WORRY, John Goodman is super nice and gets rid of that corpse for him, NO PROBLEM.
Anyway, you should be watching the movie by now because this is all way better than me typing it out. This creepy, smiling motherfucker ALWAYS GETS ME. He leaves Barton with a box before he bounces after murdering the lady IN BARTON'S BED. What is in the box? WHAT IS IN THE BOX????
Also John Goodman murders his whole family and lays some SERIOUS truth on him about what it is to be a REAL common man and how Barton Fink is full of shit.
After John Goodman leaves the film Barton Fink pretty much loses his dream and takes that creepy box to the beach and finds that weird beach picture in real life that he was obsessed with.

Thanks Coen brothers for always fucking blowing my mind.

Faking It: Mixtape

I've been struggling with some pretty severe depressive episodes lately. I really just wanna give up on everything. From what I talked about last entry, all those bad things feel like they are just getting too heavy to carry. Most days I just want to lay in my bed and cry. Unfortunately (or I suppose, fortunately?) I can't do that because I have to function like a person or my whole life would fall apart.

Something that comes with my depressive episodes is an extreme disassociation from myself. I feel like my life and myself isn't real. It's as if I am a stranger is my own mind. This is a hallucination that comes with my bipolar disorder. It's incredibly frustrating to go through because I have no control over it and never know when I will feel like myself again. It just comes and goes as it pleases, making me even more depressed because I feel like I have no control over my own mind.
I never let anyone outside know this is going on though, except maybe my fiance and my best friend. So today I have for you all my depressive episode mixtape for when I'm "Faking It"
I wish I had more to say.
I'm going through some rough stuff right now.

The Wheel

I feel very guilty. I have been neglecting a lot of things lately that I want to be doing like writing here on this blog, keeping up with my weekly organization of myself, getting back in reading/writing/practicing music/cooking better food/exercising... there's a lot. I have just been paralyzed by stress and depression. I have to literally drag myself through the day and convince myself to do the simplest things like shower or get up in the morning. It seems like everywhere I turn there is only bad things around the corner. I know deep down that I am allowing myself to be overwhelmed with the bad things and there are still good things in my life that I am ignoring but when depression hits it is easy to just say "Fuck this, life is bad right now."
Every day I just sit in chronic pain at my desk, my head swimming with all the stresses of the day and just beg the universe "Please, just give me something good."
Back in middle school I was really obsessed with Mythology. I thought the concepts and stories were so interesting. There was this one idea that our lives are like a wheel. When we are at the top all these good things are happening to us but then it will spin and we will be at the bottom where everything bad happens. But don't worry, the wheel will continue to turn and you will be at the top again.
I try not to get these ideas so solidly in my head because I believe that when we subscribe to something it's like a self fulfilling prophecy. Of course if you believe that once something negative happens you are in for all the negative things then you are just surrounding yourself with negative energy and that just brings the negative things upon you. At least that's what I believe. I understand if you thinks that's utter bullshit and what is going to happen is what happens.
But I am a massively paranoid person.
I feel like I am at the bottom of my wheel right now. I just need to get back to the top.

The Cool Girl

My whole life there has been two of me. There has been the person that truly exists and lives. The one that is real. Then there is "the cool girl". She lives in my mind. She is everything that I wish I was but I have never been. She is skinnier than me, more creative than me, more talented, more organized, more motivated... more EVERYTHING.

Since I have developed insecurities she has existed to break through them. I could always close my eyes and just see her, always so close to reality. Just 15 pounds away, just pushing myself a little further towards a goal. Always so close to my cool self. My perfect self. I wanted to be her so bad. I still do.
It's an obsession that I feel I constantly stand in the way of. I have confessed this to my fiance during our late night talks when we are lying in bed in the dark. He says I'm already cool. That all my goals are attainable. I still want to be her.
She doesn't take pictures with back fat.
She doesn't have weird adult acne.
She has cool clothes and hair that looks way better than mine.
She has the willpower in the morning to do her hair and put on makeup.
High heels don't hurt HER feet.
She practices her cello everyday.
She pushes herself to use her yoga mat.
She eats healthy delicious food.
She doesn't cry all the time.
She has way more fun.

God damn her.



The best decision I have ever made (besides my fiance) was the day I decided to get my dog, Pickles. The second I locked eyes with her, I just knew that she was my dog and I somehow knew her name was Pickles. I didn't think about anything when I got her. I had my friend sit with her while I ran to the bank to cash my tax refund check so that no one else could take her. From that second, Pickles and I would never be apart.
When she first came home she fit in both my hands. She would squish herself in between pillows to fall asleep. I had never in my life before that ever been more in love with a living thing.
Pickles has shown me love when I had none. She has gotten me through the toughest times in my life. She has always been by my side. I can't imagine how I would have navigated the last six years without her. The love from a dog is one that cannot be replaced or described. She has a brilliant personality, she makes me laugh, she comforts me when I cry, and she is way too fucking smart for her own good. I will never be able to repay the countless heartbroken nights where I shed too many tears or the nights I felt so alone that she was there for me.

One day I hope to have many more pups to share my love with but Pickles will always have my heart.