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Everything posted by nocturne

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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!
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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...
  8. Thanks everybody, I really appreciate the replies. Maybe I'll be able to say more later when I'm not so tired.
  9. It probably seems like a pretty stupid entry....sorry.
  10. 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.
  11. ....or rather, nobody to GO WITH! Yes, I know, I sound like a broken record, and a sad pathetic one at that. It's 20 minutes to 10pm, I'm all dressed up in what I would wear if I were to go out clubbing. My hair is done. I'm looking my best, and I'm so restless to just go out and dance. But I can't face going alone. Going clubbing alone just seems inconceivable, and it's scary. I'm not sure that it isn't a really stupid idea. If there was a chance of meeting up with friends there or something, that would be different. But there is nobody for me to meet up with. If I go alone, I'll basically BE alone. This follows on directly from my last blog entry. I ended up contacting my sister-in-law to ask if she wanted to go to the music festival. That was a very scary thing for me to do, but my level of boredom and frustration overcame my fear. She wanted to go, and had in fact been discussing it with a friend....but couldn't afford it. I told her we'd have to make plans to go next year for sure. This was all through email, so I haven't yet had her reaction to that suggestion. The fact is, she never thought to mention it to me, never considered inviting me to go along with her and her friends. That's fine, I suppose I have only myself to blame. I did find out from her emails that she's visited my city several times with friends to go clubbing, and never contacted me to see if I wanted to go out with them, despite the fact that I've told her I'd love to go along. Whether it's because of me, or her friends or what, I guess in the end doesn't matter. I don't want somebody to invite me along out of obligation, only if they really want me to be there. I feel like I have to assume that she just didn't want me there, either out of dislike for me, or indifference. After the music festival idea was quashed, I was determined not to let it get me down. I used that momentum to do something I'd been thinking of doing for quite some time. I posted an introduction on and online group of local lesbians/bisexual women, some of whom get together for various social outings, pubs, clubs etc. I tried to just be honest about who I am, and actually after I posted it I started freaking out that maybe I'd been a little too honest, naievely revealed too much. Whether that's true or not, 3 or 4 women emailed me and welcomed me to the group and offered to get together for coffee or join them and friends any time for a night out. So here I am with these offers, and I can't see how I'll ever get up the courage to take them up on it. I'm so convinced I am either worthless or inept that I can't imagine being liked or wanted around. I can't imagine not being a horrible social failure. What if I meet these people an dI have nothing to say? Or I say way too much, or lots of stupid stuff. What if all my worst fears come true. I still feel like that old version of me that was able to be sociable and have friends is either dead or stunted. I don't think I'm capable of being real or comfortable with other people ever again. The thing is, I read this book today, its called Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland, and I highly recommend it. A really beautiful, heartbreaking and yet heart-warming story of a woman whose life has been passing her by in a perpetual state of lonliness for years until an event changes everything. I don't want to get to that point, but to be honest I'm already there. I identified with the character, her thoughts and her fears, so much. On the one hand it was a revelation to read, to know that what I am feeling is so human, and it did promise some hope for a way out....except the way out was through chance circumstances. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess the book make me really look at how my life is passing me by and made me really want to do something to change that, but at the same time making me wonder if there really is anything that can be "done" about it, whether the way out isn't something that I can necessary "make" to happen. I just don't know. Anyway, here I sit feeling stupid and frustrated in my club outfit. I don't know why I put these clothes on. I guess I hoped seeing myself dressed up would change something, give me some kind of courage to go out there and just do it. But reality is very different than the fantasy, and I'm well aware that if I go clubbing alone I will not have the experience I'm after.
  12. I don't know if anybody will read this or not, but I just felt I needed to write to get out what is in me. I'm asking for replies because I so feel like there's nobody, which in my real life is mostly true. I'm so sick of being alone inside my own head, never anybody to hear or discuss what's really going on inside. I had an odd day yesterday. At work it was awful. All day this angry, negative, despairing inner dialogue just went on and on in my head. I felt I couldn't get out of it, I didn't want to get out of it. I wanted to wallow and suffer, and so I did. So many hurts and fears and angers that somehow I just cannot get past. My job has become quite pathetic really, partly through my own fault and partly just because it is really really boring and monotonous. There's not much interaction with coworkers, there's really not much reason for it. Being an introvert who often finds interactions taxing, you would think I'd be satisifed with this state of affairs. On the one hand, I'm grateful because nobody bothers me, there's no pressure to interact. On the other hand, I feel like I'm invisible, that nothing I do makes one bit of difference. In fact there have been days when I barely did any work, and nobody cares or notices. I don't feel good about myself for that, and I know I shouldn't surf the net or work on puzzles or stare into space all day....but a lot of the time I am so depressed by how bored I am, the need to escape is very strong. The people I work with are all a lot older than me, several of them are my parents age, and I just feel like some kid (I'm 27!) They're nice, good people, but I'm just not feeling the vibe there at all. My last job was a very different environment, and this one just feels so lonely. At the same time, I know that I tend to create my own isolation. I do sometimes engage in small-talk, but I find it difficult and irrelevant and boring. One of my coworkers has a son my age and she's always comparing us in this kind of scolding fashion, giving me these little maternally condescending lectures that always take me off guard and I usually end up babbling some stupid spineless response just to get her to go away. The other day she came up and started asking me all these questions about my life "so, do you have any friends?!" almost like an accusation! I was totally taken aback, since actually I don't have any friends, but of course am deeply ashamed of that fact. I lied and made up some story about hanging out with people from my previous job and felt like a completely spineless loser. Aside from her, the rest of them are pretty decent....I smile, say hi, ask questions when I think to....but I still feel like I'm this island, isolated, deserted. I just don't know. Anyway, it's pretty depressing. But the money is good, and I honestly can't imagine a better situation for me right now....which is also pretty depressing! I don't feel I have what it takes to do any of the jobs that would really use my potential, particularly in terms of "people skills" which I don't believe I will ever really master. I am intelligent, I had such promise, but I'm basically a data-entry clerk/office-monkey with a university degree. I had plans to be so much more, but I just couldn't follow through on them. One way or another, this is what I chose. I chose "comfort zone" (more like prison) over real living, and I continue to choose this way, so there's nobody to blame but myself. This is another area of pain I won't even go into right now or I'd be here for hours..... Anyway, after yesterday's workday I expected the evening to be pretty crappy, but I perked up once I got home. I made myself a healthy dinner and even washed some of the huge pile of dirty dishes that have been accumulating for longer than I'm willing to admit here. I have binge eating disorder, and later in the evening the urge to binge became very strong. I binge almost every day, and have for years. It felt so ineveitable, but something made me stop. I've been battling with this for so long, I've pretty much given up the battle and just see the binges as inevitable. The pain I feel when I resist the urge to binge eventually becomes unbearable. But I had just finished watching a show on TV where an alcoholic teen had gotten through his first day of sobriety, and I just thought...it has to start somewhere....if he can do it, I can do it. I didn't binge. I made it through a day without bingeing and it felt great. At the same time I felt daunted by the prospect of ever achieving such a day again. Today, work wasn't quite as bad....but tonight I binged. I knew I would before I even left work. In fact I planned the binge in detail before I left work, and took a different bus home so I could go to the grocery store to get my "supplies." I don't know why I had it in me to resist last night, and yet today I didn't. So, I suppose I should talk about what feelings lead me to want to binge, what was so unbearable painful that I just HAD TO stuff myself with food until I was numb. Well, my good old friend loneliness, of course. My constant companion. This weekend is a long-weekend, and there's an outdoor music festival I really would like to attend. Last year I wanted to go, and it was the same situation....nobody to go with. I vowed last year that by this time I would have some friend, somebody to go with. But here I am, a year later and nothing has changed. If anything, I'm more alone now than I was then. The only person I could think of is my brother's girlfriend, particularly because I know we both share a love of this kind of music and this kind of event, but then all I can think of is all the reasons that wouldn't work. For one thing, asking her to go with me would be an admission that I have no friends. She would surely be wondering "why is she asking me, doesn't she have any friends?" Because I live in the city an hour away from my family, they don't see my daily life. Most of them assume I have a life. I am to ashamed to admit, even indirectly that I do not. I also don't even know if my brother's girlfriend likes me. I've really lost touch with them, partly because of distance, partly because of depression, and partly because of some issues that I have with my brother (another source of pain). When she and I first met, I thought we would be friends, but I rarely see her. When I do, she's always preoccupied, and I sometimes get the feeling she'd rather I not be around on the rare occasions that I am. We started out with her asking me to come visit a lot, offering for me to crash on their couch whenever, to us rarely ever even contact each other. Maybe it's my fault for isolating myself, or maybe she just realized she didn't like me all that much. I just at some point got the impression that her desire to be my friend went away. I worry that if I call her up now and ask her to do this it would just be plain rude, like I'm only getting in touch with her because I need something. Here I don't call for months, and suddenly I come back into her life just because I need a companion? That would be right, it wouldn't be fair to her. She'd always be friendly, she's much too nice to ever be nasty to me. And that's the other thing....how do I know she doesn't already have plans to attend this festival with her friends? If that's the case, and I call her up and ask her to go, she'd feel obligated to invite me along even if she didn't really want me there. The thought of being that unwanted third wheel is very painful. I've been there before. So, I spend the day surfing the website for the music festival, dreaming about what it would be like to dance under the stars and knowing there's pretty much no way it's going to happen. And it's not just this one event, this is my whole life now. By the end of the day these thoughts were hurting me so much, all I cared about was stuffing myself and getting numb. So, that's what I did. One day binge free, then back to the same old same old. *sigh* I guess that's enough for tonight. If you're here, thanks for reading. Good night.
  13. I just got back from my great-grandmother's funeral. She passed away this weekend at the age of 93. She told my grandfather (her son) that she was ready to go, and she passed away surrounded by her children, grandchildren and other family members...the hospital staff were amazed at how many people showed up to be at her bedside in her final hours. I myself wasn't there, but my mother was there in the final day. It was pretty amazing at the funeral all of her descendents gathered outside the church so we could make a procession in....there must have been at least 100 of us....many of them I didn't know, but just to think here we all were with that tiny lady as our common link. We didn't know each other all that well, I was just one of many many great-grandchildren, and I think she often had trouble remembering who was who, but she always had a cookie and a hug for us when we would visit her in the tiny three-room house that she lived in right up into her eighties. Even into her eighties she regularly went out dancing. I was pretty nervous about going to the funeral, this is only the second funeral I've ever attended. I really felt I didn't know what was expected, if it was ok to laugh, smile, joke. I was very worried about unknowingly saying something extremely inappropriate....which I did at the last funeral I attended, and I still feel bad about it to this day. I was/am also aware how selfish I was being thinking about myself and my awkwardness. I don't know if I really was there for my mother at all. I have a hard time with emotional displays when it comes to my family, and I worry that I came accross as cold-hearted. I tried to give lots of hugs, and told my grandfather I love him, which isn't something we usually say (though of course we both know it's true.) Still I didn't shed a tear, and I don't know what that means about me. She really wasn't a big part of my life, in fact I only saw her a handful of times in the past ten years, and by this time she had no idea who I was. For this reason, it's hard to really feel her absence. And she had lived a long and full life and was ready to go, so it just doesn't seem right to be sad for her. I really do feel for my grandfather, as he was really close to his Mum, took care of her for years and then was a loyal visitor once she went into the nursing home. Seeing my mother cry was also hard, but I really just don't know how to comfort people in that situation. I felt very inadequate....but again, I feel guilty for even worrying about my own inadequacies in this situation. Then just to make me feel even more selfish, I realized I was having car trouble. My car is leaking gas. My mechanic just happens to be the brother of my grandfather, and I certainly didn't want to be bothering him with this on the day of his mother's funeral! Then my aunt brought it up, so I had to tell him about it, but I felt really awful talking about it at this difficult time. I'm worried, because I don't know what to do about the car. I was worried about driving it back home, but I had to get home somehow. I don't know how long I should wait to call my great-uncle about the car, but it looks like I'm going to need repairs. I really can't afford it, and I'm wondering if it's going to be time to scrap the car altogether, sell it. The thought really saddens me, because I love that car so much and it really gives me freedom. At the same time, I really don't NEED it...I live in the city where there is adequate (though sometimes inconvenient) public transit, I usually just use my car for out of town trips, as there is practically no transportation options outside of the city. Problem is, all my family live out of town, so if I have to get rid of the car I'll never get to see them. And being a transplanted country girl, sometimes I just have to get out of the city for my sanity. I'm trying not to worry, but I feel very stressed about this. The only chance I have of keeping this car is getting discounted repairs from my great-uncle, but given the circumstances I don't think this is the time to hit him up for the job. City mechanics would charge three times what he would charge me. I guess the car is probably going to be sitting in the yard for a few days until I can figure out what to do. I increased my citalopram to 20 mg a few days ago, and I've been experiencing a lot of drowsiness. I had to force myself to stay up until 10pm last night, which is insane for me! Usually I find it hard to go to bed before midnight, and even then I'll usually lie awake for at least an hour. I was in bed promptly at 10 last night, though I felt exhausted I still laid awake for almost two hours, interspersed with a huge sobbing session which came about after thinking about my great-grandmother and the nature of life and my family relationships and all my disappointments in life. I'm feeling the same heavy drowsiness tonight, so wish me better luck sleeping tonight. Well, I guess that's enough of a ramble for tonight. Thanks for reading. Cheers.
  14. I just thought I'd give an update on how things are going. It's now Day #5 on 10mg citalopram, and so far so good. I had some nausea the first day, and I've had varying degrees of drowsiness, though for the most part it hasn't been serious. I have noticed some increase in anxiety, in that I've found myself feeling panicky for no apparent reason, but it's bearable. All in all I feel relatively normal, at least physically. My depression isn't overwhelming, but it's still there. There is a bit of good news, in that I think my sex drive may be coming back! It pretty much disappeared starting with the first dose of Prozac, but two days ago I actually felt extremely turned on (I'll spare you the graphic details of my fantasy life ), something I hadn't felt AT ALL since before I started the Prozac. I'm hoping this is a sign that the sex drive will be ok on citalopram. (please, please, please!!!!!)
  15. I'm really tired and having a hard time keeping my eyes open (please, please, let this mean that I'll sleep tonight!) but I felt the need to do a quick entry. Well, after all the angst of my last entry, I actually ended up going to the Priscilla event. After I got all that out of me I started thinking about how I might as well just go. Despite all my dire predictions about how agonizing it was going to be, I realized that to stay home would be just the same old crap, and that if I went at least there would be a chance of it not being hell. It wasn't hell. It was actually quite enjoyable. It's kind of hard for me to admit that, I guess because I don't want to make too much out of a small happiness when it really doesn't erase all those big problems that are plaguing me. My issues with my sexuality remain. All my other issues remain. But still, I went out and had a pretty good time and I felt better about myself for doing it. I didn't really talk to anybody there, but it still felt good to be out there with a group. I wasn't the only person there alone. I wasn't the only person who appeared nervous. But in the end, it was just a fun movie in a really beautiful setting with a bunch of seemingly-decent people out to enjoy themselves. I think it helped to see the range of people there, from drag queens and leather men to average janes and joes. I was glad that I went, and left feeling more positive about attending more events throughout the week. In fact I went to another film tonight. Yes, I'm a film buff, so the film-festival portion of Pride really appeals to me. I've got plans to attend at least two more films this week, and my big goal is to go clubbing Saturday night. I'm going to have to make an effort not to be too hard on myself if I don't do it, though. It's a very daunting prospect, going into a club all alone, but I just really want to go dancing and be a part of the celebration. But I am very scared about it, so we'll see. I'll definitely be attending the parade and after-parade concert Saturday afternoon. It would be great if I got up the courage to actually talk to somebody at some point during Pride, but I know that if I pressure myself too hard I just end up hating myself when I don't live up to expectations. I'm also now on citalopram, day #2 on 10mg. So far the med switch is going fairly smoothly. I started to feel a resurgence of those feelings in my tongue and throat that were part of the reason I had to stop the Prozac, and I started to get fearful that the citalopram might be causing it to come back, but so far it's very mild and totally bearable. Praying that it passes and doesn't get any worse. Otherwise the only other thing I'm feeling is a drowsy/drugged feeling. Paradoxically, last night I couldn't sleep, though the intense heat in my apartment might have contributed to that. Emotionally I'm beginning to come to terms with the fact that I've had to switch meds, and feeling more laid back about it than before. Send positive thoughts my way for a smooth ride on citalopram. Well, eyelids still drooping, so I'd better take advantage of this sedation and try and get some sleep. G'nite all.
  16. Not to be a stickler or anything...but Celexa is the US/Canada brand name, Cipramil is the brand name in the UK. Citalopram is the generic name for the drug in all three countries. Don't know about other countries.....Just thought I'd put this in for clarification, as I've lived in both Canada and UK and taken the drug on both sides of the pond now.
  17. I know Pride festivities are over and done with in a lot of locations, but where I am Pride week starts today, and I bet its still going on other places. Anybody else find Pride a hard time for them? Anyway, I just wrote an entry in my blog (on this site) which talks about this. Anybody else want to share?
  18. What the hell. Might was well write about it, even if I don't believe it will do me any good. Even though I feel like a total leech because I hardly ever read or reply to other people's blogs because I either don't know what to say, can't stand knowing other people are feeling such pain, or that I'm simply too wrapped up in my own misery to open my mind to somebody else's suffering. But anyway.... Gay pride events start today, lasting through the week and culminating next weekend with the parade, concert and big night-club parties. Me? I'm sitting her bawling my eyes out yet again. There's an outdoor festival showing of Priscilla Queen of the Desert tonight, right up my alley. Except, I have nobody to go with. There's not one person I could call. NOBODY. There are no friends, there is nobody in my life at all. The thought of going by myself and sitting there alone amongst all the people there enjoying themselves with friends and lovers is just too much to handle. I've been telling myself for three days I'll just go anyway, I'll make myself go and I won't care that I'm alone. But I know I will care, and now I've realized I'm better off staying home. It's too late anyway because instead of doing laundry so I'd have clothes to wear in public I sat around all day reading and crying. Not to mention that I'm physically sick anyway. But these are excuses. I could have got the laundry done with minimal effort, and if I had people to go with this stupid chronic sinus infection wouldn't be stopping me (as painful as it is!) But that's not the situation. The situation is I am a total loner and I can't bear the though of attending this event alone, so I won't. I guess that's my choice, so I really have nothing to cry or complain about. Pride Week is supposed to be a celebration. For me, it is a torture. Another reminder of how alone I am, how closeted I am, how much of a loser I am, and how I'll never fit into the gay OR straight communities EVER so what's the point, how all I've ever had with a woman is unrequited love and at age 27 it's just a huge embarassment. I'll never be able to get to know a gay woman, I'm too ashamed and scared to reveal myself. I am the much maligned bisexual. I don't despise men, often I'm even attracted to them. But I am very strongly drawn to women, I envision relationships with women, not men. It could happen with a man too, and because I can't/won't swear off men for all eternity I am a pariah. I cant' say never. If I find love, I'm going to go with it, male or female. I can't put myself into the "lesbian" box, even though that's the closest description of who/what I am, it still doesn't tell the whole story. It cuts off parts of who I am, and I can't do that just be be accepted. Because of this I don't feel I will ever be understood, and lesbian women will always see me as an experimenter who will leave them in the lurch at the first sign of a penis, which couldn't be farthest from the truth. But what kind of loser has been single for 8 years, and only had sex with two people (both men!) despite being fully aware of the attraction to women since the age of 14? Pathetic. My one kiss with another girl was a disaster which has left me traumatized to this day. She pulled away from me and said with a note of ridicule/distaste/exasperation "You don't do this very much, do you?" I wanted to cry, I wanted to disappear. I pretended it didn't bother me and pulled her to me and said "Well, let's try again, then." And we did and it felt horrible. The feeling of inadequacy, the fear that I'll never be able to have a "real" lesbian kiss/relationship/sex/whatever is so overpowering. And yet the undeniabe fact is that I have been head over heels in love with several female friends, and I dream about finding a woman to love and be my partner. The fact is, they ones I wanted were always straight. No lesbian has ever shown the slightest interest in me at all, which I guess isn't surprising since I've hardly ever known any. No pride for me. I don't belong there at all. I did attend the parade last year...alone, of course. I was glad I went, but it was very lonely being on my own surrounded by people in groups of friends. I forced myself to stick around, go to the after-parade concert, but after a while the feeling of isolation just became too much and I left on the verge of tears. An online Live Journal friend congratulated me on attending the parade, told me this was just a first step and she was sure that by next year I'd have at least one person to talk to or hang out with. Well, here it is...next year....still utterly alone. I will attend the rest of the film festvial, the conventional events in dark theatres where being on your own is more bearable and acceptable. I'm very used to doing things on my own, and going to the movies by myself isn't something that bothers me too much, often I enjoy it. For a long time I just forced myself to do stuff, wheter I had a companion or not. I got frustrated waiting around for friends to come into my life and felt like everything was passing me by. So I forced myself to do the things that I felt I was missing out on. Except I came to realize I was still missing out, because it wasn't necessarily the activities themselves but the sharing of them with friends that was missing. So now I've become very disheartened again, feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place. Certain activities I can enjoy alone, others only highlight the aloneness even more, draining the activity/event of any enjoyment. So really I guess you could look at it like I'm really not missing anything by staying home tonight. I could go to the event and feel sad, or stay home and feel sad. Same diff. It's not like I've never seen the movie before. Hell, I've even watched it with friends before, back when I had them, a time in my life I now find impossible to comprehend. The only thing I'll be missing is a fantasy that just isn't going to come true. The fantasy of calling up a pal and saying "hey, let's go out to the Priscilla screening tonight!" And getting together with a bunch of people to laugh and chat and sing and enjoy the experience together. Whether I go or stay, that fantasy will remain unfulfilled.
  19. Yeah, I've hugged my pillows plenty of times. It does help, but still feels lonely and it's just not enough.
  20. Thanks for reading. I've read a lot of your recent entries too, and though I don't really have any comments to add other than I also can relate to how your feeling, if not your exact situation.
  21. Thank you for reading and letting me know you're here. You know, a part of me really wants to hear those platitudes and reassurances and encouragements, really wants to believe that they are true. I really want them to be true, but my experience keeps telling me that it just isn't so.
  22. I am so filled with pain, and for the most part I always have been. My problems are so many, so huge, so pervasive and at times incomprehensible.....how can there possibly be a real way out of it? My whole being is dysfunctional, and the one thing I'll never be able to escape is myself. Meds provide a way to survive it, but nothing is solved. Don't tell me it's just the depression talking. These problems are real, they're not fictions of my depressed imagination, and I don't know how to fix them. Therapy has never provided much, and believe me I've pursued my share of therapy sessions over the years. Why do I feel such deep pain? How is it possible to feel such grief, such wrenching loneliness for so long? I just don't understand. There were those in my old eating disorder support forum who basically told me I was creating this chaos of pain out of some need to be unique, as a way to avoid really living. They would tell me that the reason therapy hasn't worked is because I haven't been willing to work it. But I can't just blindly implement strategies that don't make sense to me. I can't just blindly follow and accept what a therapist (or anybody!) tells me if it doesn't ring true in my heart. It does seem to me that I feel things much more deeply than normal, that things that roll off other's backs leave me paralyzed by grief or sorrow for years of my life. I'm not saying I'm somehow special, that other people don't feel pain or don't have these same problems, that I'm this uniquely tortured person. Even though I often feel this way I know I'm not the only one. But the pain is real. The alienation is real. This is not a normal way to feel. If it is, I truly grieve for humanity. All day at work I compose long tortured blog entries in my head, pouring out my sorrow, and yet when I get home in front of the keyboard it all seems pointless....and not only pointless, just too.....HUGE to even begin tackling. And what am I looking for here anyway? Reassurance? Sympathy? What good are they? Nobody can make me happy just by telling me there is hope and that they understand. All the advice in the world is useless if I can't get myself to believe in it or to follow it. The biggest problem is loneliness. But just the word "loneliness" doesn't seem adequate to really express what I mean. It's not just being alone, I actually enjoy my alone time, need it to recharge my batteries, in that sense I am a true introvert. But even introverts need human interaction, need human intimacy. Superficial interactions just don't cut it. It's not just socializing or small-talk I'm talking about, I mean real relationships.....god I'm so far from that possiblity it's almost laughable. Joing a club! Volunteer! Go out into the world! Do people not understand the concept of being utterly lonely even when surrounded by people? That's what I'm talking about. I've done these things and it doesn't change the loneliness that is my constant companion, except for a precious few times....times that occurred much more by chance circumstances than those that I an re-create now. That's what I've always felt my whole life. Always craved intimacy, companionship, a few precious times I found it, but that hasn't happened for a long time. I have come to believe that other people do not crave the same kinds of connnections that I do. Other adults don't seem to need or want to connect to each other the way I do. The world just seems so indifferent to everything that feels vitally important in my heart. I also need physical intimacy so badly. I don't understand how I can live so long without touching or being touched. And I'm not talking about a hug from my Mum! I am a very sensual sexual person underneath this repressed 300lb exterior, though I can't imagine who would ever guess it. I'm not just talking about being fat. Fat women are sexy too...being attracted to large women myself I can understand that. It's not really about that at all, but part of me has made it about that as a way to hide from the other things that are blocking me from getting close to anyone ever. I know the blocks are there, in some cases I even know what the blocks are, but for the life of me I don't know how to remove them! The things I've said here are just the tip of a gigantic hidden ice-berg. I feel like I could write all night and still just barely be scratching the surface. And the thing is, it's all been said before over and over in so many different ways. Every time I drag it all out and write about it or talk about it I have this hope that this time I will get to the bottom of it, this time I will make a breakthrough, this time I will somehow heal....and it never happens. Then like always I end up angry with myself for thinking this time will be different from the 100 other times I poured out the same old pain.
  23. Well, here I am. Just filled a prescription for citalopram. I've been taking Prozac for over a month, it was helping and I was doing well, and then suddenly after being at 20 mg for almost three weeks I developed some side-effects that I were intolerable (constant severe jaw clenching, tension, twitching, spasms, tremors, sever dry-mouth). It was terrifying. We reduced the dose to 10mg which took care of those side-effects, but 10mg isn't enough to take care of my depression. I'm very disappointed as I had taken Prozac for a year about 7 years ago and did really well on it, really turned things around for me back then. I had convinced myself that Prozac could once again be the solution for me, and these side-effects shattered my hopes. I resisted going back on meds for a long time due to a disastrous experience with Effexor, just for these reasons. The "med merry-go-round" as I like to call it. The thing is, I need to be on something, so when I talked to my doctor today about switching I suggested citalopram. I took citalopram for a 4-month period about 4 years ago. I don't remember much about it, but I do believe it helped me at the time. (I stopped taking it for stupid reasons and ended up in the worst state of my life a few months later) I'm very nervous about how this is going to turn out. Coming to the realization that I was going to have to give up on Prozac and try something else pretty much brought me to the breaking point. My doctor is not very attentive, knowledgable or approachable, so I pretty much feel on my own with this. In fact she didn't believe me at all about the Prozac side-effects, and I get the feeling she's just humouring me with this med switch. Last week I burst into tears during my appointment because she was so dismissive, and this week she didn't even remember who I was! It's a very scary feeling, not having any support in this. I'm waiting on a psychiatrist referral, but that could take months (it's already been over a month.) I'm so afraid citalopram will turn out to be another disaster, or maybe even cause worse or scarier side-effects. I feel like I'm playing russian roulette with these meds, risking my mind and body, but at the same time what choice do I have? I really really want this to work, but I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it if things go wrong again. I guess I'd like to hear from anybody who has any advice, warnings, words of encouragement etc. Anybody who switched from Prozac (or other SSRI) to citalopram? I'm also curious to hear about anybody taking citalopram for OCD, as I have that also and need a med that will address the OCD as well as the depression and generalized anxiety. I know it's only approved for the treatment of depression, but I've heard that it's also used for OCD since it is an SSRI. I still have a few more days of tapering down the Prozac and then I start on 10mg citalopram for a week before upping to 20mg. I'm hoping so hard for a smooth ride with this one.
  24. Good luck with the doctor appointment. I go tomorrow morning to see mine. I've been there with trying to get off a med (Effexor) due to scary side-effects, and I had a really horrible time of it, so I know where you're coming from.
  25. Yes things did get better. I've been on Prozac for over a month and it helped me. Now I develop these problems, and I don't know what to think. I had start-up side effects, and those subsided fairly quickly....now this. I just don't know what to do.
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