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  • Birthday 02/29/1988

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    United States of Dysthymia

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  1. Sorry I've been MIA lately. I missed this thread and all the people who have posted such great stuff... I was just in a really dark place for awhile there. Started taking Prozac recently. I avoided antidepressants for a long time out of pride I guess. Finally accepted I can't handle all this on my own. Only been on it a week but its been... kinda weird. It makes me incredibly tired all day... but I guess it's kinda quieting my head a bit. I'm not sure how I feel about it. This song is sort of about that. It rhymes less than my usual work but it just fit better that way. THE FIRST PLACE Swallow it down Selling salvation by the pound Now it comes in tiny milligram bottles So tell me What made you so damn proud in the first place? Call me in the morning When you’re done with the mourning Over all the things that you were denied You’re crying But they were never yours in the first place So when the hell will you grow up? Tell me When the hell will you grow up? (x2) It’s just an imbalance Of your chemical allowance You’re a dollar late and a day short again It wasn't enough For you to buy a little peace in the first place It’s fogging your vision Trying to bridge the division Between you and all the rest of us But then again You were just misfit toy in the first place So when the hell will you grow up? Tell me When the hell will you grow up? (x2) Just keep talking out loud Just keep running your mouth Yeah, someone’s sure to hear you now But I wonder Did you have anything to say in the first place? It’s all ringing empty I would help if you let me But you’re an island unto yourself If you don’t wanna get better Just what the f*** was wrong in the first place? Yeah, just what the f*** was wrong in the first place?
  2. I watched this as a kid when it came out in theaters and I totally remember going to get a "Phantom Ring" from 7-11 or wherever it was that was doing the cross promotional stuff for it. I rocked that ring for like a year, haha.
  3. The Babadook. The first half of the movie was good... like, really good. Great set up, believable conflict, paranormal stuff was creepy as hell... and then, right around the half way point of the film... it just sort of took a giant misstep. All the terror kinda vanished and by the end of the movie I was snickering at the "scary stuff". The ending was kinda convoluted as well... really a shame as it was shaping up to be a truly terrifying movie for a bit there. Kinda reminded me of "The Village" in that regard. Great premise, crappy payoff.
  4. I've been suffering from dysthymia for well over a decade now. After years of fighting I decided I probably couldn't do it on my own anymore I went to see the doctor. They prescribed me Fluoxetine. I literally just started taking it yesterday so I'm not sure I can provide much insight on whether it works or not for probably another 4-6 weeks... but I'll be sure to update when I can with what I can. For what it's worth the first day of taking it I felt kinda perky (may have been a placebo effect since I doubt it'd kick in on the first day). Today (second day) I feel pretty foggy. Not sure if that's just me being tired or the Prozac but I'll keep an eye on my progress. I know the first few weeks probably won't produce too many results.
  5. Wrote this one today. I guess the song is about telling someone to give up on you. That you're too sick to be saved and the ending is inevitable... best for them not to waste their time on a lost cause. SICK These angels won’t pray for me No they won’t waste their sympathy No their voices don’t sing to me Won’t waste time on futility They don’t sing to me My nausea is sickly sweet My heart pumps to this ghostly beat Feel the bones in my broken feet Lick my wounds as the poisons seep It’s so sickly sweet Now I’m in the fever grips Rend my soul like apocalypse Hide my face as the facade slips Tears moisten my cracking lips In these fever grips But baby don’t wait on me Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick And now I’m just waiting around to die These demons I beckon in Grab my throat when I let them in Made me choke on your medicine Left me writhing and bed ridden And I let them in Growing drunk on my apathy Every sip now is k*lling me Yes this sickness is filling me And each breath now is agony And it’s k*lling me This weakened and shambling husk Its existence superfluous Mercy k*ll it for both of us Lest we’re swallowed in endless dusk It’s for both of us But baby don’t wait on me Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick Cause I’m Sick And now I’m just waiting around to die Even vultures won’t pick my bones All my thoughts come in haunting tones In this cage where I’ve made my home Bound together by skin and bones In such haunting tones And now I’m just waiting around to die And now we’re just waiting around to die
  6. When I'm at my lowest of lows I'm usually too twisted up to be creative... but I've also noticed I don't feel overly compelled to be creative when I'm doing "good" (well, as close to good as I get anyway). It always seems like the creativity comes to me when I'm straddling the space between those two points. Hope you can find your creative place again.
  7. Damn man, this story was really heavy... the imagery was beautiful but the whole thing just held so much pain in it. I identified with it more than I probably felt comfortable with... it was eerily similar how I've always kinda envisioned things going if I ever thought I was gonna call it quits. Peaceful and serene, far enough away not to trouble anyone with my passing. But I digress, really great work man.
  8. I came up with an idea I liked for a song as I was drifting off to sleep the other night... and foolishly convinced myself I'd remember it in the morning so I didn't have to get up to go write it down. Needless to say I awoke and couldn't remember a damn thing... haha. Hoping I can come up with inspiration for another sometime soon. Whatever the case I just wanted to say that there has been some solid work posted lately. Keep it coming people!
  9. I read that the rush to judgement against atheists may be because, in the context of society, religion (even if you have differing religions) is kinda like a secret handshake of sorts. You bump into someone with the same religion as you and it's like you both did the same handshake. You immediately feel like you know that person on some level and their ability to demonstrate the proper handshake displays comradery which leads to a baseline of trust. If you bump into someone with a differing religion it's like they did a different handshake, but displayed a handshake to you none the less. The handshake they displayed gives you a bit of information about them and, in the mere act of the handshake, suggests that they at least "get" comradery... even if it's not your specific type. But when a religious person bumps into an atheist it's like they're refusing to shake hands. This comes across as a deceitful gesture and the only information you receive about the person is that you don't know anything about them. By not "participating" in the handshake you've told them you don't believe or understand comradery and there is no baseline level of trust. Worse than not participating in the handshake, you've told them that you don't believe in handshakes... so by proxy they may feel that you're telling them they're "wrong" for participating in handshakes. But also, when someone tells you they're an atheist, it implies that they think you're going to die and rot in the ground rather than live on in the afterlife... and I feel like that plays at least a small part in the rush to judgement. Death is a scary subject for a lot of people and I think some religious individuals take the implication that you don't think they're gonna live forever as a personal afront they find insulting... which is kind of a bummer since when someone tells me they're religious it's usually implied that I'm going to hell. I don't hold it against them, I just don't think they're right... I know not all religious people are like this... but it seems like sound reasoning to explain why those who DO rush to judgement against atheists may feel compelled to do so.
  10. “Devil Like Me” – Rainbow Kitten Surprise My heart and soul were never mine to own, What you care to die for? What you care to die for? We die alone, we'll all die young, What you care to die for? What you care to die for? Snow, snow glistens on the ledge, wh*skey on the bed, shake it out and light a cigarette Miss me when you, you wish you weren't right. Shake me all out if I'm wrong, for you, for you. Shake it all out when I'm gone, I, for you. Is the devil so bad if he cries in his sleep, while the earth turns, and his kids learn to say, "f**k you" they don't, love you. Does the devil get scared if she dies in her dreams, where the earth burns, she cries 'cause she's nothing like you, is she like you? What'ch you want from a devil like me, devil like me? You see the devil don't mean to be evil, he just regrettably forgets to exceed expectation. Holes riddled in your head, little bit of lead, shake it out and line a silhouette Miss me when you, you wish weren't kind of glad. Shake me all out when you're done, for you, for you Shake it all out when I'm gone, I, you. Is the devil so bad if he cries in his sleep, while the earth turns And his kids learn to say, "f**k you" they don't love you. Does the devil get scared if she dies in her dreams, where the earth burns, she cries 'cause she's nothing like you, is she like you? what do you want from a devil like me? am I like you?
  11. I'm not sure where this will go or why... I think I just need to get it out. Put it into words. So many wounds that you feel like just don't heal right. I'm sorry in advance if this runs to an excessive length. When I was about 12 my parents split up. It wasn't a bad divorce. No fighting or yelling that I can recall. No excessive pettiness... but it did completely change my home life. My dad became functionally MIA (he'd come over about once a week only to sit on his laptop and play online poker all evening) and my mom became a non-parent. The divorce crushed her. She would come home from work and hole herself up in her room with a bottle of alcohol most every night. I'll never forget the evening when I went in to ask her about dinner (something that was becoming a rarity in our house post divorce) and found her sitting on the floor. She was crumpled into a heap, sobbing uncontrollably... her alcohol glass tipped over on the carpet. I went and held her while she cried, repeating to her over and over "it's gonna be ok, everything is gonna be ok". That still stands out as one of the scariest moments of my entire life. As I said "it's gonna be ok" little 12 year old me realized something... nothing was ok. As a child you're supposed to feel like your parents are god. They're strong, they don't get scared, they don't get hurt, there's nothing they can't protect you from. But sitting there, holding my weeping mother, I knew that all of that was a lie. I could kinda feel my whole world come crashing down around me. I knew they weren't strong, I knew they couldn't protect me anymore than I could protect them... and I knew the world was coming to eat me alive. Whatever sense of security I had vanished in that moment. After that, I viewed everything differently. I knew that nobody around me was strong and somehow I felt like it was my job to fix it. I started doing the dishes because I knew they wouldn't get done otherwise. I started making dinner for me and my sisters because I knew we wouldn't eat otherwise. I started checking their homework because I knew it wouldn't be otherwise. I started to become to emotional support for everyone in my house... my sisters felt like they couldn't talk to my mom and dad... my mom couldn't talk to them... I became the channel through which all concerns, fears and stress would flow through. I had to tell everyone that things would be alright, to take their burdens from them and carry whatever I could. I had become the step-dad to my own family. During this time I learned to condition myself not to bother anyone with my problems... I mean, I knew how bad all of their problems were... how could I, in good conscience, let any of them deal with my problems? So I didn't. I didn't talk about the bullying. I didn't talk about the sadness or the anger or anything. It all came to a head for me one evening while washing the dishes. The sink, rancid smelling from a good week or two of neglect, was piled so much that it spilled over onto the counters. I'll never forget holding a moldy pan... staring at my reflection in the window... and just having the urge to start screaming. I wanted nothing more than to start screaming at the top of my lungs and to use that damn pan to shatter every window in the kitchen. I felt my chest grow tight, my eyes burn... I felt like I couldn't breathe. "No!" I scolded myself inside. My inner adult, as malformed as it was at age 12, barked at me. "This isn't useful, this doesn't help. People need you to do things and having a tantrum isn't one of them." My inner child tried to fight back with an emotional plea. "But it's wrong! This isn't fair, it isn't right! We shouldn't be doing this!" it cried out. "It doesn't matter. It just is what it is. I have no time or place for this." the pretend adult said. And then I hit the switch... I just turned it all off. I entered what I eventually referred to as "my comfortable numb". I would feel slow and tired... but I didn't feel anything else. I found I was now able to summon up a sort of "robot mode" when I needed it. I felt like my emotions and problems weren't important... and now I could just turn them off. My life went on like that for a long time. My mom eventually came back to parenting part time but I was still the primary parent in the house. My mom and sisters never stopped leaning on me and I never stopped feeling like I was of better use to them being a beast of burden... I would carry their heavy loads and I would do the work that was required of me. Day in and day out. Years later I went to therapy. I'd realized that I'd probably been depressed from around the time I was 12-13 but it had only recently become bad enough in my 20s to recognize that something was wrong. We talked about my childhood, all the "blah blah blah" I just went through above... things I would agree "sucked" but I was usually quick to dismiss as "Well, that's just how things were... everyone did what they could with what they had. I was just born with broad shoulders I guess." But I'll never forget what she said to me. "This might be hard to hear, but you need to hear it. Your parents... failed you. They failed at raising you, they failed as supporting you. You were failed". It was sort of a surreal moment... I didn't want to agree with her because, who really wants to think that about their parents? But at the same time I knew she wasn't wrong. It didn't really change how a viewed my parents as much as how I viewed my childhood. It was a big moment... as I finally started to understand all the things I had to do were wrong. Now the problems I'm left with... are how do I move past the aftermath? So much of who I am is tied to those 6+ years of being a parent to my sisters... to being a stand in spouse for my mother... it's like I'm still fighting to stop feeling like that scared little kid who had to pretend everything was alright. I'm getting better at it but I still don't feel like my emotions are valid. I don't feel like my problems have merit to exist anywhere but inside my own head... I'm terrified of disappointing people or letting them down... I still feel like a 12 year old kid trying to fake being an adult (even now as I'm pushing close to 30). I guess that last one is pretty common for parentified children, they call it Imposter Syndrome. I feel like I'm constantly waiting for someone to pull my mask off and scream "Liar!" But worst of all I feel like I was robbed of something... like my childhood ended at 12 and all of a sudden I had to pretend to be an adult. At some point everyone grows up... and when you do, life starts taking from you... and I feel like life started in on me 6 years before I was due... and I want to know, how do I get that time back? Where is the time that was owed to me? Obviously, it's gone now... but I'm not sure if I can let the resentment over that fact go. I feel like I locked that little kid up all those years ago to protect him... but all I really did was deny him the chance to grow up. And now I'm stuck here with the aftermath. To anyone who actually read all this... thank you for sitting through my rambling wall of text. Also, why on earth didn't you find anything better to do with all that time?! Haha.
  12. I'm sorry you're having a hard time in therapy. For what it's worth I hated therapy for probably the first 6+ months of doing it... and I was someone who opened up. For a long time it just felt like I was paying someone to listen to me complain about stuff I already knew I hated... but at some point, it started helping. There wasn't really a big epiphany or break through moment, I just noticed that I'd kinda made peace with some of the stuff we talked about... or came to a better understanding on some of them. It wasn't too hard for me to open up to my therapist because I treated it like work. "I've hired you to listen to me, so I'm going to talk about stuff". I figured if I was going to be there I might as well throw whatever I had at it so I wasn't wasting my time and money. That being said, I can understand how hard it can be to talk about certain things to certain people. Maybe it would help if you wrote down the things you wanted to talk about each week before you came in? That way you could follow along to some bullet points, read a prepared statement, or even just hand the letter to your therapist. Anyway, my two cents on the subject. I hope you find a way to communicate the things you need to and I hope your therapist is a good fit for you. Wishing you all the best.
  13. Dog


    It might just be a personal idiosyncrasy. For example: I can kinda tell when it's my own voice in my head as opposed to depression's voice based on how the thought addresses me. When it's my own voice I address myself with "I" statements. I can tell when it's depression because it addresses me with "you" statements. I didn't notice it for a long time and then it just kinda clicked that there was a difference in my thoughts. I've noticed it helps me keep them in order and it's easier to figure out which set of thoughts to ignore.
  14. Dog


    I think it only becomes a problem if you obsess over them. Otherwise, most people (including myself) have thoughts from time to time that they find troubling or disturbing. I ripped this straight from a description of intrusive thoughts, hope it helps a bit. Intrusive Thoughts: Many people experience the type of bad or unwanted thoughts that people with more troubling intrusive thoughts have, but most people can dismiss these thoughts. Psychologist Stanley Rachman presented a questionnaire to healthy college students and found that virtually all said they had these thoughts from time to time, including thoughts of sexual violence, sexual punishment, "unnatural" sex acts, painful sexual practices, blasphemous or obscene images, thoughts of harming elderly people or someone close to them, violence against animals or towards children, and impulsive or abusive outbursts or utterances. Such bad thoughts are universal among humans, and have "almost certainly always been a part of the human condition".
  15. This is a great line. I liked the whole piece but this line in particular jumped out at me.
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