what would give you joy?
what causes you stress?
why do you insist on predicting the future?
today, following my own advice in my previous post, i took my wellbutrin in the morning. it did give me an extra burst of energy and made the fact that i forgot my breakfast endurable but after lunch with dean and a ride home in full afternoon sun, i felt drained. i resisted all plans, all goals and napped. i lack ambition and focus on an alarming level. i used to be able to sit and do work for so long, with so much drive and interest. now everything seems so futile that it’s to the point that tasks aren’t even on my radar. there’s only blips from: Self-Pity, Predicting the Future, Self Disgust, Anxiety.
I napped until the afternoon retreated. I dreamt that lil boy was a kitten and got caught by a kite flying by and flew away. I jumped up and caught him though. he was silent as a snail.
i saw the other side of dean’s house today and it is only one block away from the old house on Banks. It’s nice and a great deal but the way the sunlight comes in, I hate it. and I don’t know, who am I kidding, I can’t be that close to the house. On the walk back, I saw a cat on the street and thought “it’d be good to live around here bc maybe I’ll find LB!” and had to remind myself that he was burned. they found his body. he is gone.
i can’t lie: I don’t believe it.
I keep telling myself that this is a hard time that I will recover from. I’ve recovered from a lot of things and there a lot of things I have now that I take for granted:
- my physical health
- my financial sorta stability
- my awesome job
- my freedom from family and relationship obligations
i want to go back to the house while i can, but also i can’t. maybe i need to? no, i shouldn’t.
after my nap i laid on the bayou for sunset and drank a kombucha. the concrete felt warm like it’d been placed in a heater. went for a short run up the jeff davis overpass. it really feels like dying but also like getting clean.
what gives you pleasure and what matters? i spent a long day doing nothing really. tagging along on errands, birthdays, parent dinners of friends. “just hanging out” – j says she’s concerned bc she doesn’t have a thing anymore. she just hangs out. but isn’t that valuable? isn’t all we are our compassion, presence, care?
id be sunburnt if not for spf 50 mist over an spf 30 lotion and hiding from the raw light of mid-afternoon. depression comes roiling after me most desperately in the afternoon light. it doesn’t make any sense but it is so real and, if i doubt it, it’s proven to me again in less than 24 hours. that’s how days work. the earth and sun moving and all that.
i have a vision of an art performance piece of a person mentioning terrible predictions and also massive gratitude and then reflexively looking around to knock on wood but they are in a tiny room and everything is made of plastic. and god sits above and laughs laughs laughs.
i am in bed with graybie who is distracted by a moth. how can cute things murder? i like that cute things murder. the paradox is calming.
my therapist mostly talks about herself during our sessions but there is one piece of “advice” she gave me
aka “tool in your toolbox”
a sack that is a collection of items
that are words.
my therapy co-opted by buzzwords
anyway – she said when you feel stressed or triggered you just say “It’s may 6 2018 i’m in new orleans, la and I’m safe”
i was like well that kinda sounds like garbage but honestly it is a good way to stay present. i spend all this time, so much time, feeling bits of my past wash up, like chunks of almost-vomit you get when you deep-throat or try a headstand after eating. bile memories of sensate experiences. carpet textures roll under my fingers. smell of someone else’s saliva lingering on my lips, the dry crumble of cake finding a place to be in my insides. the metallic smell of scalp, the loneliness without an ex from long ago. the exhilaration of freedom from them.
but anyway, here we are, it’s may 6 2018. everything feels so harsh and difficult, i sleep roughly. i never sleep without drugs. i hate everything about my life. i am unable to access joy.
i am terrified of summer.
i thought for a while that if i came off my medication that i would be able to feel more present, more relaxed. but i exist on a high strung level of pure stress. the string plucks and vibrates gently as i hop along, sighing deeply with relief as i get to another day. another morning, with everything feeling annoying and difficult.
i did quit the wellbutrin. maybe i should try that again.