Tag Archives: sadness

The Abyss of the Mind

I started writing this for Mental Health day in May, however in the depths of my doldrums, words were hard to capture.  Recently I have had some conversations with friends of mine, who are also in the midst of depressive episodes in their lives, for various reasons.  And in knowing that, I feel less alone; their vulnerability and willingness  to talk about it has strengthened our friendships while broadening my perceptions of what it is that we are experiencing.

If you or someone you know is suffering from depression, please feel free to reach out to me.  I would like to create a public dialog about these experiences and offer emotional support.  Many people going through  depression have a hard time talking about it, and often expend much of their energy trying to pretend that they are okay.  Some of us are very good at hiding how much internal turmoil we are actually facing.  Please feel free to comment and share your story and if you have found any healthy coping mechanisms that have given you some relief.  If you are feeling suicidal please find help, or  call The National Suicide Prevention Line at 1-800-273-8255, which can connect you to local resources.

It’s lonely on the inside looking out at all the smiling faces, lingering in places of joy. And in this solemn slumber I am left to wonder why it seems so easy for others to get on emotionally in positivity. Wonder what it is about me that feels so lost and out of love, despite the deep set knowing that my life is nothing but good.

See, I am not struggling from hunger, or left out in the cold to wonder where I will sleep; in fact my life feels pretty safe and secure, but this obscure stranger lurks there. This shadow that doesn’t seem to care much for my better welfare. It clouds my good ideas, and glosses over memories, twisting how I perceive the past, present and future. And that is no way to live.

In my darkest hours I have sat in contemplation at the meaningless anticipation that slowly burns inside me, for a day I have yet to see, one where I will be free of this depressive malady. Melancholy has been my mantra for too long, it’s the silently sung anthem of my attitude as of late.

And it doesn’t suit me very well. Some days it’s hell trying to smile and pretend that this mental pressure isn’t there, and that I have no cares in the world. It’s been the discussion at the tip of my tongue for too long, and suppression has started swelling, and it’s going to bust through it’s shell of deception.

Deniable, the Debbie Downer, no one wants to invite her to the party where she will largely bring others down. And despite it all I know my own ability to raise the vibration but lately it’s hard to rise to the occasion as I sit in this procrasterbationary cycle.

There is a roadblock in my view, and it skews my ability to see where my path leads, and what it means to me. I feel that at 34 I should have made more progress instead of this arrested development. There is massive pressure in the potential, and I level myself by staying away from making too many decisions. Each task of the day leaves me in wanting, each choice to make more over baring than the last.

In this depression, I want to be taken care of . I don’t want to care for others, and yet that is an unavoidable reality. There is no one to swaddle me, and hold me silently, for a moment of peace and feeling connection.

And isn’t that exactly what depression is? A feeling of isolation so pervasive that it effects one down to their core. It feels incredibly unreliable. I try to put words to it, but I find it unexplainable. I know it’s a type of depression that drugs will not fix, and therapy is no match for; realizing I just want more connection, but I can’t seem to move forward and make that happen. Feet bound in concrete, frozen from make a move toward any one direction. My synapsis on some sort of delay. Thinking today is the day, still nothing happens and I find myself waiting on tomorrow.

Education is my distraction. Information is my drug. And the more I learn about the world, the more I feel torn between throwing myself headlong into humanity; and hiding out away from reality. The push-me-pull-you of a person with sensitive strength, confused on how to assert her existence within this existence. Missed opportunities because nothing seems to light my fire. The foundation of excuses.

The fuel of my youth; a desire to be seen as acceptably intelligent, bound for successes undreamed of yet,  if only I could leave the small perimeter of my home. When I finally left, I felt I was on some sort of path, but with each pursuit I would follow, there was still a hollow in my heart; a dissonance with my purpose.

Materialism didn’t suit me, so some may see me as living life like a vagabond. The only purpose I’ve held onto, is the service of humanity… but where is the service to me? I swim in a sea of information, I drown on all the options, cast out into the depths of indecision.

I can’t seem to find a conclusion, on what actually TO DO. And in this place, I miss experiences of love, laughter and adventure. Three things I adore. Somehow I always answer “no.”

“Yes” is it’s own foreign language, I can’t wrap my mouth around it.

My heart wants to know this foreign language, but my mind won’t record it.

No regrets, but I bet if I knew then, what I know now, maybe I wouldn’t feel this depression like an extremity. An extension of me I can’t seem to detach. Feeling like I know too much; I see too much, I feel too much. Overwhelmed and shut down.  Emotionally paralyzed; my body can’t metabolize all this stimulation that bombards me in silence. A personal crisis, I tell myself will not last forever. Nothing lasts forever.

Things Left Unsaid

I think I am having a sort of identity crisis.  As I mentioned in a previous post, a belated mourning.  It’s been slowly building day by day creating a depression like I have never known before.

My life is very isolated right now.  I see one or two people on a daily basis.  Mostly I just see my grandmother, but at the same time, despite living with her, and taking care of her; I avoid her.

It is sad to see the loss of memories of some one who was so proud of her ability to retain information, to  loose a little bit more of it everyday.

Recently she asked me how my mother died (her daughter)… and I replied “Cancer.”  She responded with “what kind?”  I had to ask ” is this a quiz or do genuinely not remember?”  Her answer was shocking… she didn’t remember.

My mother passed away of ovarian cancer when I was four years old.  My family bottled their sadness and harbored their memories of her to themselves.

As a resilient and adaptable person, I just didn’t give it too much thought.  I did what people expect you to do, which is “get over it and move on.”  I had a little brother to look out for and influence.

There have been times in my life where this depression surfaces and causes me to question  where I came from, maybe what I missed out on, but people in my family have been hush hush .

I have noticed that over the past year with the passing of my grandpa and my aunt, that my grandmother’s mental hard drive is crashing.

My dad remarried when I was 8 and he had a daughter with his new wife.  That half sister of mine is married now and had a baby this year.  My step mom is a very active participant in their lives.

My full blooded brother died in 2006, and that was the first time I felt the pangs of losing what I know to be a part of myself, and the living memory of a mother who didn’t stay too long.

The things most girls want to grow up and be are a good wife and mother… but not me.
I feel a huge rift in even contemplating that life because it feels so distant to me.

Where do I come from, why do I feel such sadness? Will it ever get better?

I don’t know the word “mom.”  Even when I say it out loud it sounds foreign and awkward.  How could I ever be that which I do not truly understand.  I find jealousy at how easily “mom” rolls off the tongue for everyone else.

I hate that my sister gets to use it with such frequent consistency. It never felt right to call my stepmom anything but her first name.

I live in a world full of moms, and daughters, and because of my past I don’t feel like I fit in at times.  I wish I could conquer this void.

It recently came to my attention how Disney movies often run a program in their scripts that kills off the mother figure leading the main characters to be highly vulnerable to influences of say, a witch in disguise.  And I wonder if I run in manic directions because I don’t have a mom to run to.

I am well aware of the benefits of a good hug, the oxytocin and the bonding, but I don’t hug or touch anyone very often because it too, feels foreign.

My grandma use to hold me and comb her fingers through my hair, but now she is frail, and when I do hug her, I feel that I may break her.  This breaks my heart a little more each time.

Love to me is synonymous with sadness and loss, and I am not sure how to remedy that physical and mental reaction.  I enjoy being alone because most people just don’t understand how deep this program runs.  I can tell disappointment in others when I don’t say “I love you” in return.

I am not close with my mothers brothers, I don’t really know anyone she grew up with.  And in that I fear that when my grandma passes that I will have little to validate my existence outside of my own creations.  This sadness is so strong lately that I don’t want to create much, mostly because I don’t feel like I have many people to share it with.

It all feels sort of pointless.  And since I am not out for fame or fortune, I wonder for who does any of this benefit?

Recently because of Robin Williams death, people have been more vocal about their depression and sadness.  And I believe it’s a great topic for discussion, but I find that when people realize how depressed a person is, they find a conflict of caring and repulsion.  No one likes hanging out with a Debbie Downer all the time.

This is another reason I am reclusive at times.  I just don’t have the energy to be happy or funny all the time.  I don’t enjoy how worn out I can feel from pretending.

So I don’t pretend.  But is taking its toll on me, and it saddens my grandma, which turns into a cycle of us throwing sadness back and forth.

This is no way to live, and no way to die.  I wish I knew a way out of this cycle.

Ah, Memories

Sometimes, I think it is possible that we hold things in for too long, yep, even I am guilty of holding a fart  in  for too long… But I am talking deeper than gas. “Deeper?” you ask.  Yeah.  Deeper.

Honestly, I want to be proud of myself for handling death so well in my life.

YAY! High five, Mandie!

Errrrr, what?!?!

Yeah, I want to say, “YOU know what? I have had tremendous loss in my life, and it’s OKAY, it’s FINE.  I TOTALLY DEAL WITH IT, I have a different sort of relationship to death…” and then I walk away with a crazy look in my eye.

The fact is, I usually deliver those exact  lines with a very sweet tone, and walk off with a little bit of superiority over those who couldn’t possibly fathom  what it is to loose people close to you.

Great, I am using loss as a way to be self righteous… just as I was thinking I might be humble.

The fact is, I am going to call my family out, hell I am going to call out any of you who don’t discuss it… WE MISS PEOPLE BEING THERE IN PHYSICALITY.

We miss seeing people age, and grow, and evolve.  We miss late night conversations on the phone, advice, the sound of their voice.  Some of us just miss what we never really knew to begin with, and then we based our imaginative relations off of what was observed in the lives of others.  Some of my observations of YOU and your lives at times has sparked with in me jealousy… Oh yes, even you….

Tonight, I was thinking about my brother, who is now gone, and earlier I was thinking of the mother I lost.

And I was thinking about how pissed I am on one sense; that my brother left me in this awkward situation that almost feels like divorce where the kids split with each parent.  Kevin and my mom got to transition to, you know… some other plane of reality, and I got to stay here with my dad… on Earth? (Come  on kids you know I am a big thinker who wants people  to be Organically Super Human…)

I love my dad to all ends of the Universe and back, but it’s like Kevin got some other end of the deal… like all that missing and wanting I had for my mother, he somehow got to fulfill for himself.. before ME!….I feel it was a bit, preemptive.

I am the oldest, in all conventional thought; which I have not yet purged obviously, says: the oldest dies first.

That happens to be the struggle of any parent who lost a child.

My grandparents lost my mom when she was 26.

My brother was gone months before he turned 24.

No wonder no one wants to talk about it… Parents don’t like to discuss the sad fates of their children… and let’s  give my dad a double whammy for losing his wife at 26 and then going another  round with young death again 23 years down the road with off spring of his dead bride…

This may be tough to read, but it’s all true, and it’s been bothering me for a while.  Perhaps you understand?

I have a half sister, but I am what remains of the interaction that was my birth mother and my father’s DNA.  At 30, I have out lived them both.

My step mother and half sister, will never really understand how awkward this life has been, (for me.)  They have each other to talk to. They have their relationship that has a physical beginning and continuing evolution…

Perhaps a point of jealousy in my life, I use to commiserate with my brother about…

This stuff sucks to write “out loud” but it’s part of what has happened that makes me feel this overwhelming urge to cry, but really, I can’t.  It feels contrived, and fake.

I guess, really I just have to say it out loud.  It lurks at the back of the mind and the corner of the heart and festers.

It saddens me, but  only in the most conventional of ways.  I wonder if I would be making late night phone calls to guy friends with girlfriends, if maybe I had a brother, or maybe even a mother to call.

I don’t know.  Again I ask why it is, they got to leave?

Why is it that even in my darkest times, when I wished life away, still, here I stay, in physicality.

Why at times does it feel so lonely?

I have my own answers and I will continue to spread joy, but loss…. oh that loss of those loved, still lingers in the painful heart strings embedded in muscle, deep in my memory.

It is not an excuse to be a victim, or superior, rather it is the reminder to cherish  all that is in the moment, and those who share it with you.

I do have a different relationship to death, than many do.

However evolved or different it may be, does not restrict me from feeling that occasional tug at my heart and mind, that longing of companionship linked in blood and experience.

Hell, that’s why the “Reunion” is so popular. the gathering of shared experience and the sprinkle of time spent apart changing.

Enjoy one another, be blessed with each others presence.  Physicality is a special, and yet very temporary experience.

We will meet again, another time; another place, in some other form.  But this experience is; in a sense, one in a billion.

The light and the dark are each beautiful because each of you dance between those worlds bound in your physical body.  Bound to learn how limitless you actually are.

That is death; limitless, expansive energy. Reconnected to Source, and yet still present.

Music; memories, pictures, lessons learned and given are the remnants of physicality.

The Eternal Soul, is just that.  Conscious Energy going back into a system of Co-Creative Learning , leaving material signs along the way.  A sort of ethereal scribbling on the bathroom wall “I WAS HERE.”

My brother and mother inspire me, every day.  I did not know them “all the way.”  But their influence and muse runs in my blood and through my pen, or paint, or speech.  They were creative people with short lives… I am a creative being who still has life…

May I be blessed then, with the talent of all of us, THREE!  Responsibility for the art that was left un-manifest, but lingering in the imagination!

May nothing be wasted.

Blessings to you!