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About nocturne

  • Birthday 02/27/1979

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  1. Hope you are having a great birthday with lots of cake!

  2. I hope you had a fantastic day :)

  3. I hope you have a fantastic day :)

  4. Happy Birthday :)

  5. happy birthday!! :-)

  6. Hi everybody. Not sure if anybody remembers me, it's been a while since I've been around. One of the reasons for that is that my depression and anxiety have improved a great deal, and I guess I've just not needed the support. However, I did want to drop in and give a little update on how things have gone with me, since I know it's so important to hear some encouraging stories around here. Quite frankly I was a total mess a few months ago, barely clinging to sanity...it seems like a long time ago now, hard to even imagine how bad things were then. I started off on Prozac, which I'd taken before with good results, but this time it did a number on me with side-effects that I just could not ride out. Reluctantly I switched to Citalopram and decided to give it a chance. Well, it did the job. I can't tell you what a relief it is not to have the constant anxiety, the constant paranoia, bleak and suicidal thoughts. I rarely think of suicide anymore, and if I do it's very fleeting and easily dismissed. I still get sad, I've still got issues to deal with, particularly in terms of relationships and social life, but I'm functioning! I feel sane, I can sleep, I feel motivated to make positive changes and actually do things. Before I was stuck in a deep black hole, and felt likeI was going to crack at any moment. I felt that way for so long, and now it's gone. Things aren't perfect (when is life ever?) but they're sure a whole hell of a lot better than they were. Side effects have been minimal, and even the sexual side-effects have eased up...not entirely, but it's worth it. I've been a little superstitous about talking about how well things have gone...scared the minute I say it's going well I'll be cosmically punished with a relapse. However, enough time has passed that I really can see the difference, believe in it, and accept it in the moment. I just thought I'd come by and share.
  7. Once again, I'm here typing when I really need to be sleeping. I've always had lifelong sleep issues, but things have changed since I started up meds again. As soon as my head hits the pillow my mind starts dredging up and reliving in vivid detail various events from my past. These aren't flashbacks per se, nor are they necessarily "bad memories" in most cases they're actually good memories....or memories that should be good, but because they are a reminder of happier times that are now lost, they are very bittersweet. I honestly don't know if this is some kind of necessary healing process, or simply a side-effect of the meds. When it first started, it was a revelation. It was like my memory, mind and feelings were coming out of a long fog. Like I had been trying so hard to just forget the good and the bad, and my mind was suddenly getting the message that it was ok to remember. I started remembering all kinds of things in great detail. Not that these were things I had necessarily forgotten (I'm not talking about repressed memories, or anything) but just suddenly my memory started going into overdrive. I remember details of the paving stones on streets I walked down in foreign cities. The smell of my old friend's apartment. Whole conversations in detail that I had forgotten I even had. Parties I went to, people I met, places I visited, lived and loved. Lying in bed wide awake for hours every night means I'm not getting enough sleep. Somehow I manage on what sleep I do get, and I'm definitely relieved that I'm not plagued by anxiety and hypnagogic hallucinations like I have been in the past. However, these life reviews aren't pain-free, often quite the opposite. I feel like somehow my mind is churning through all this stuff, like it needs to relive this stuff until it's out of my system or something. Is it a blessing or a curse? I guess this remains to be seen. When the memories hurt, maybe this is pain that I need to feel, face, and some how process? I get scared, though, because I know I have a tendancy to get really stuck in the past. It seems to take me so long to get over things. I try not to dwell, but it seems like I'm just built that way emotionally. I don't know if normal adults lie in bed reliving their past this way. Is it a sign of trouble that tonight I was reliving some high-school experiences and mulling over their meaning? Is it normal to imagine entire conversations with people you have been out of touch with, or mentally compose letters that never get sent, hashing out details of events that happened year ago, and which the other person sure wouldn't even remember, but which affected me profoundly? Some of these were transformative, others were very emotional and painful experiences, and though they aren't something I think about on a daily basis, they are still there in the back of my mind. But I get the feeling if anybody else went through similar experiences they would have long ago stopped thinking about them. Am I stuck back there? Am I stuck back in Edinburgh? In many ways the answer is yes. I'm trying to figure out a way to deal with this state of affairs. Sometimes the memories (good and bad) paralyze me, but at the same time I want to hold on to them. I don't want to discard and forget pivotal moments, special experiences and sepcial people. At the same time, I need to find a balance. I need to find a way to live with my past without letting it overwhelm the present. It's something I find very difficult to do. I've been struggling to do so for so long, I wonder if I had somehow cut myself off emotionally from memories, and now that things are changing with the meds I am more free to allow the memories to come up? I'm really figuring things out here--trying to figure them out, I should say.
  8. Ok, it's the day after, and I'm feeling a bit better about things. Cautiously optimistic even, and already contemplating contacting the group and a few individuals again. As much as I hate to say this, I think alcohol could have been partly responsible for my depressed feelings last night. I only had 3 beers over the course of the evening, and it sooooo helps me to loosen up in a nervous situation, but I do think it was in part responsible for the bad feelings. That's not to say it was the only cause. Yes, this whole thing really is scary. I've been isolating myself for a long time, and stepping out of that does feel overwhelming. My self esteem issues complicate matters. I'm really trying hard not to beat myself up over my inadequacies, but the urge to dissect and harshly condemn everything I said and did over the course of the evening is really hard to put down. I wish I could just cut myself some slack and not worry so much over how well I "performed", but this has always been a huge problem for me. Change is scary, but the point is I'm doing it. Perhaps not perfectly, or as quickly as I would like, but I need to work on accepting the slow, imperfect (realistic?) method. Sheepwoman, you know, I could hold a garage sale too with all my stuff, but I decided against it. I figured if I did that I'd be too overwhelmed by the task and nothing would ever get done. I made an executive decision that I was going to just throw stuff out (and donate the still-useful items to charity). I'm filling up the trunk of my car with donations, and once it's full I take a trip to the drop-off site. Only more expensive smaller items will be sold off, and that will be done via eBay. I think I'm ready to tackle some more cleaning today, and I really am enjoying that one clean room! As chevere says, it's a big pick me up each time I walk in there and realize "hey, it's clean!" Looking forward to having one more room to make me feel good, and throwing out more stuff. As my mother says, it's great therapy, and somehow that's true!
  9. Well, I did it. I walked through the door. I spent 4 hours there and had a pretty good time, and yet I felt horrible after I left. I don't know if I can explain why. I guess I didn't really "click" with anybody there. That's not to say I didn't like them, and that they weren't nice people. It's me that's off. I just don't know if I'm capable of having friends anymore, no matter how badly I want them. I don't know what is wrong with me, why I feel this way. I just don't know if I have it in me. I do feel I didn't talk enough, and that when I did the things I said were somehow wrong or not good enough. Why can't I just be myself, and why can't "myself" just be something acceptable? I don't know....I'm pretty sure we'll get together again, and we made some tentative plans for other events....still, somehow I felt like I was a subtle outsider, even though we were pretty much all strangers to begin with. I can't even say why I feel that way really. It's not like I was excluded or anything like that. I wish I could explain. I wish I could just be happy that I went out and met some people and had a little fun. Why do I still feel sad? I certainly don't regret going, it's not that. I'm glad I went, and I'm glad I met these people, but I'm also terrified because I don't think I can do this friendship and social life thing, no matter how bad I think I want it. I just don't know how to explain what I'm feeling right now. It's not good. I certainly didn't expect the evening to end with tears, and I'm angry with myself for being this way.
  10. Wah! I'm so all over the place right now. 3.5 hours until I'm supposed to meet up with these girls, and my stomach is reeling! I didn't go to work today, though that had more to do with feeling like crap when I woke up (most probably from lack of sleep, yes I was on her making a blog post at 2:30am!) then nerves about this outing. I've pretty much made it impossible for me to chicken out without lying, and I hate lying. I've comitted myself to going, and encouraged others who were expressing nervousness to be brave along with me. I've posted my photo to the group so people will recognize me when I show up. It's gonna happen, but I still can't quite see myself walking through that door! I feel like I'm in a state of mind right now where I don't know what is smart and what is stupid. Staying home from work, for example. Should I have forced myself to go in, or was it ok for me to take the day, even though I don't get paid sick time and this will put a bit of a dent in my budget? Also, I decided not to take my medication today so I'd be able to have some drinks tonight. I'm not wanting to get drunk or anything, and I don't even know if the med holiday thing works, especially given the half-life of citalopram. Am I being smart or stupid? I just don't know. Anyway, last night posting here instead of heading for the drive-thru was an achievement, but I did binge after posting. I bingeed on foods I already had on hand, and it was a "healthier" binge than a bunch of fatty burgers, but still, no binge is truly healthy. Also working out true hunger from cravings is something I find very difficult, given how ingrained theseeating habits have become, it's hard for me to tell the difference. It's all so confusing. Anyway, I've really got to get dressed and groomed and have something to eat to hopefully settle my stomach before making this huge leap into the unknown. Thanks for the replies so far, they mean a lot to me.
  11. It's 2:24am. Before I know it, my alarm will be going off and it will be time for me to go to work, and yet I still cannot sleep. I lie awake tortured by thoughts of she who is no longer in my life. I miss her so much at times it hurts physically, and the knowledge that we will most likely never again be friends makes it all the more definite. Separated by oceans and continents and time. I remember every detail of her. The husk of her voice, her accent, the way she pronounced certain words, the laid-back drama of her speech. I can hear her voice as if it was just yesterday. Her very Greek gestures. The way she rustled around the flat in floor-length skirts, and how I never saw her feet. Lemon and beans and fish. Always making soup. The way she held a cigarette, inhaled and exhaled the smoke. The cigarette dangling out the side of her mouth, bobbing up and down, animating the rising and falling intensity of her speach. Her slightly crooked smile. Her secrets. The days and nights spent talking and laughing and learning. The other night an obscure movie (a genre we shared a love for) came on television, and I was instantly drawn back to that afternoon when she and I trundled over to the film festival to see it's UK premier. She was entranced, and so was I. It was one of those preciously beautiful shared experiences. I can see her shining face clearly in my mind declaring "I love it" so solemnly as we exited the cinema. Too many details to list, all burned in my memory forever. It's been a few years now. She wasn't there to see me off, and I still wonder why. I couldn't ask why at the time, because part of me feared it was my fault. Due to my unchecked mental illness at the time, it's quite possible that it was. Things were so odd during the last few months, before I had to move away. Several months later she moved too. Her theory is that long-distance friendships don't work, and I wonder if that is why she pulled away towards the end. I know she had other stuff going on too, things I only later learned about by chance, feeling hurt that she never confided in me, and yet knowing that it was her perogative to keep matters private. I just wish she were here, to share tea and conversation and friendship. I wish email could sustain the friendship, but that ship sailed a long time ago. She never replied to my last email and that was over a year ago. I never told her I was in love with her, though I strongly suspect that she knew anyway. She did know that her coming into my life altered it profoundly at the time, I did let her know that much. Circumstances being what they were, there was really no reason to make a big confession of love. She was married (though not living together), we were friends. Her friendship was enough for me, but I still loved her. Though I'm sure we've both changed a lot over the past few years, I think I will always be in love with her, or at least her as she was then. She was the last person I was in love with, and the last person I was close with, and years have gone by. It hurts to know that I don't have that anymore, nothing even close. She's not the only one who haunts my memories, but she's there often and vividly. I would like to know why my brain chooses bed-time to go through these gut-wrenching life reviews. Sleep is needed, and yet part of me revels in the bittersweet beauty of the memories.
  12. I just wanted to say thanks to all who replied to my last thread. I wasn't necessarily in the frame of mind at the time to accept much of anything beyond negativity and despair, but just knowing I had been heard was something of a relief valve. This whole mental-health/life thing really is an ongoing battle. I realize I'm going to have to work and work and work, take numerous leaps of faith, all very frightening and overwhelming prospects. Still, something in me is beginning to at least be able to fight. What scares me is not knowing how much fight I have in me, how much strength I'll be able to maintain. Even when I make progress it still seems like a pretty shaking house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest wind. So, yesterday was...good. Progress was made. I've become very fed up with the state of my apartment, which looks like a crack den due to the fact that I haven't washed dishes in ages, and have just let clutter and dirt pile up around me. I've realized I've been living with blinders on and that I can never really relax in such surroundings. Even if I had friends, I certainly couldn't have them over. The filth and mess is really getting to me, and as I come out of my depression (ever so slightly) I just can't live like this anymore. The problem is, cleaning up is a major job. I'm estimating a total of 35 hours hard work to get things livable again. Overwhelming. Even breaking it up into more manageable chunks, it still looks overwhelming. And yet, yesterday I managed to tackle and complete the first chunk I had set for myself. Six hours of hot sweaty work and one room is entirely clean. Cleaner than the day I moved in, and I threw out a ton of junk too. I'll tell you, getting rid of objects is very liberating, especially when it's clutter that's been weighing your life down! I felt so pumped on my achivement, that I was sure I'd be able to tackle tonight's chunk of housework with equal success. I was wrong. Tonight I failed. I feel I've lost my momentum and let myself down. It's a setback, and another reminder of just how much I have left to accomplish to get this apartment back into shape. Why did I procrastinate? Why didn't I just put myself to the task and get it done? I worked hard last night, exhausted myself, and I really wanted a break. I wanted to relax for the evening. I know that's not wrong, but under the circumstances I feel I really need to forgo relaxation for a few days and just get this place cleaned up so I can REALLY relax and enjoy my home! Anyway, what's done is done, and it's too late now to get my cleaning done tonight. Which brings us to the other battle I'm fighting currently. I won't be able to do any cleaning tomorrow night, because I actually have plans! That group I mentioned in my blog entry...well, a bunch of us have decided to meet up for drinks tomorrow evening. I have never done anything like this before, and I'm terrified. On the one hand I know I need to get some friends and come out of isolation. On the other hand....well, the list of fears is endless really! Walking up to a group of total strangers, introducing myself and then joining them and actually having to make conversation?!!!! Scary. The thing is, I'm really worried that I'm going to chicken out. I intend to show up, but what if I can't make myself walk through that door? And then there are the darker feelings....about myself, about how I'm really nobody anyone would want to know, how deep down there are big things wrong with me and therefore I don't deserve to have friends or be happy, that I'll never be able to be real and open around people ever. I also feel like I'm somewhat at a loss, as this really is my first venture out into the "lesbian community." What if I don't fit? What if I don't know things that everybody else knows. I feel vulnerable because I've already revealed some things about myself to these people. In a sense, although I've been "out" to myself for a long time, being "out" to others is fairly new. Old habits of closing myself off, sensoring what I reveal, I don't think those will be easy to drop even among other gay people. So....all these worries, all this anxiety and tension eating at me. At the same time there are positive feelings. I'm excited that I'm taking steps toward meeting people, and I'm excited that I made a significant dent in my cleaning. I'm feeling very cautiously positive, but still the tension and fears are there. I've been sitting her for hours on the verge of a binge. Debating in my head whether I really want to do this or not. I came to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore, and I threw on some clothes, got my keys and headed for the car....the thought of McDonalds drive-thru consuming my entire soul. I got outside my door, had the key in the lock ready to lock it behind me, but somehow I stopped. I thought, I wrestled. Only somebody who has been in this kind of addiction will know the battle that raged inside of me. I stood there with my key in the door fighting with myself, knowing that all I wanted to do was get that food and stuff myself and make the pain go away....and yet also knowing that somewhere inside I knew this was the road to destruction. Somehow I made myself turn around. I came back in, took off my shoes and sat down to write this entry. I still want to binge, badly. I want this horrible empty and afraid feeling to be filled. I've been here so many times. I know I'm slowly destroying my body with these binges, I can feel it and I can see it. It scares me, but it also scares me to think that so many times when I enter into this battle the dark side of me wins. I dont' want to die, but I'm scared to really live. For now, I turned back. I'm here, I'm not in the drive-thru. I'm afraid I still might go, because there's this other voice inside me that's angry at me for continually chosing the self-destructive option. So, that's where I sit at the moment. Things are changing in my life for sure. I guess it has to be the meds at work. There is more fight in me, but I still feel like I need a lot more. Theres is starting to be some hope in me, but it so often looks incredibly tiny next to all the obstacles in the way. Is life a perpetual effort? Am I looking for a state of being that realistically doesn't exist? So many questions...
  13. Thanks everybody, I really appreciate the replies. Maybe I'll be able to say more later when I'm not so tired.
  14. It probably seems like a pretty stupid entry....sorry.
  15. I'm lonely. I'm feeling down. I've wasted my weekend, and I'd had such plans and energy and actual desire to be with people, but the obstacles are so many. I wrote a blog entry last night and I'm pretty sure nobody has even read it. I feel stupid for sitting here refreshing the screen every half hour just to see if my blog entry has been viewed or commented on. There's nobody to talk to, and I've never been one for chat-rooms, I find them disorienting. I don't know, I guess I'll go to bed. I feel bad about making this post because it's so selfish, and yet here I am doing it anyway. I think loneliness has to be the worst state of mind known to humanity. It hurts so much, not just mentally but even physically. This morning I had to hug my pillows it hurt so bad in my chest and my stomach. I binged badly yesterday and today. If you knew the amount and type of food I've consumed over the past two days I'm sure you would be shocked. It shocks me, and I've been living this way for most of the past 8 years, so I really should be used to it by now. But at least I've never lost the awareness that what I'm doing is severely bad for me and NOT in any way normal eating pattern. Well, this has been quite a ramble. Ironically, I have to say I think the citalopram has actually started to kick in. Anxiety and paranoia is much reduced. Though my sadness, despair and loneliness are still very much there, I'm starting to feel strong desires to get out of the situations. I'm actually feeling driven towards improvements or positive actions, the ideas are at least entering my head, though I'm still finding myself mostly unable to implement them. Not sure what this means, except that it's almost increased my frustration level in a way. Previously I was miserable, and pretty much accepted that I was going to be miserable and that there was no way out. Now I'm starting to feel strongly that there might be a way out, I'm starting to strongly desire good experiences, but I still find I'm unable to get there. I guess the big change is that I'm no longer as resigned to my fate as before, but I still fear I'll be unable to do what needs to be done, and this weekend could certainly be seen as proof that this might be true. Anyway, this is all about me, more like a blog entry than anything, but I just couldn't face putting another blog entry out there to be met only with silence. Of course this thread could be met with silence as well, and it wouldn't surprise me either way. If you're here, thanks for reading. Take care.
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