When you feel nothing
why does it always end up
I’ve been having suicidal thoughts the past couple days. I’ve been horribly depressed, feeling alienated and isolated, and wondering what in the hell I’m doing with my life. So pretty much, same old, same old – at least for a deeply depressed state.
Although I often have suicidal thoughts in this state, they are not accompanied with an actual plan and the will to act on them – at least not yet. I think my life would have to be in full free-fall for me to actually consider acting on these feelings. To this day, although I have fantasized and thought about my own death many, many times, I have never actually attempted suicide.
One doctor said these were passive suicidal thoughts, and I agree. In this mood, I think of all kinds of ways I could die – both accidental and otherwise, but I don’t take it further.
So now that I’ve explained where I’m at…the question. Should suicidal thoughts of this nature be shared? I do share them with my therapist, at least if I remember to at the next session, but I struggle with rather to share them with my husband for instance.
He knows I’m depressed. He knows I have struggled off and on with suicidal thoughts, but should I make him aware of when I’m actually having them or would that just needlessly worry and stress him out since I don’t intend to act on them?
I normally don’t hide much of anything I’m feeling emotionally from my husband (he can usually tell anyway), but is it better to not give specific details sometimes? Is the relief I might get from talking about them worth the concern it would cause him? What do you think?
Been feeling stressed. I don’t know if it is because I am autistic or just part of my personality, but even the smallest changes to my routine tend to throw me off and cause a lot of anxiety…and the holidays seem to be filled with those kinds of routine manglers.
For instance, tonight I have a friend’s Yule party to go to and tomorrow I am supposed to meet my mom for an early Christmas dinner/present exchange. Part of me is looking forward to these events and even wants to go, but part of me is stressed out and just wants to go back to bed and hide under the covers until the weekend is over.
All the anxiety takes a physical toll too. It turns my tummy into a wreck and brings on headaches that can easily slip into migraines if I’m not careful. The anxiety last night about the events this weekend was so bad that it did give me a migraine, so I had to take my migraine prescription. Hoping that won’t happen again.
I often tend to think depression is worse than anxiety because its symptoms are more obvious and immediate, but I think I underestimate the compounding ability of high anxiety.
My baby kitty Spyder is dying. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’ve ruled out pretty much everything but cancer or autoimmune disease, with cancer looking most likely. He hasn’t eaten for 3 days now and is getting weaker and weaker. We’ve tried everything we know. Spent well over $1,000 to try to get him well in the past month.
He is around 14 years old, so at least he has lived a good length of life for a cat, but my heart is breaking. About 3 days ago it is almost as if he suddenly decided it was time to prepare to die. Since then, he has refused to eat, wants to hide away and sleep, and gets weaker every day. He does not seem to be in pain, except when he has to go to the bathroom and try to get stool out. Luckily, that isn’t happening often as he has very little to expel.
Our only other options at this point would be a feeding tube, and if he does indeed have cancer, I don’t want to just prolong his suffering and death. I know we couldn’t afford all the treatment that would require, nor would I want to put him through all that. Spyder is a quiet, shy cat and I know he would rather go at home quietly. He is one of the sweetest cats I have ever known. Knowing him has been an honor.
Spyder got his name from a dream of mine. Right before he showed up in our lives, I had a dream that I had a baby of my own and named it Spyder for some reason. So, when we got this kitty soon after, I figured it was fate and gave him the name from my dream. He indeed became my baby. The kitty that I was closest to. The one who pulled my heartstrings hardest for some reason. I am hurting.
Been really fighting off a depression slump again, and I’m losing. Today I slept in until after noon – that is often one of the first signs that the depression is getting real. The longer and later I sleep in often correlates directly to a diminishing mood.
You may ask if there is something triggering this slump. The holidays often seem to be related to the issue. Last night I had a dream about revisiting the house my dad died in when I was 12, I’m sure that might have something to do with it – approaching the holidays and thinking of all the family losses again.
My cat, Spyder, really has me down too. He has been sick for over a month now. We’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money on 3 vet visits, 3 rounds of antibiotics, special diet foods, and medical tests – all to be no closer to a real answer about what is wrong and with him not getting any better, at least not for long. He’ll get a little better on the antibiotics, but once they stop, he quickly gets sick again. Yesterday and today he hasn’t even been eating and just sleeps all day.
Feeling pretty low and hopeless at the moment.
I fear I may be
the unfortunate reincarnation
of Sylvia Plath.
Born fifty years to the day
from her initial entrance,
I draw the parallels
between our lives –
lines that connect
far more than astrology.
Both of us poets,
living through our literary confessions.
Desperate to be taken seriously –
a gift freely granted
to the masculine,
but almost impossible to achieve
with a soft voice and gentle hands.
Both with daddy complexes
due to the abandonment
of an early death,
we seek that missing link
in other men
(some more worthwhile
Our final connection results
in a morbidly strengthened bond –
a certain disregard
for our own lives.
We dream of being free
from this earthly game,
but lack the forbearance
for a lengthy battle.
Instead, we choose to dream of release –
and in our darker moments,
even plan it.
Yesterday I had my regular neurologist visit to follow up about my migraines and while there I was also diagnosed with Essential Tremor, a genetic condition that is often confused with Parkinson’s from the symptoms. It most commonly affects the hands, head, and voice, but can affect any body part. It can also affect balance, mood, and possibly memory.
My balance, hands and voice are already affected pretty bad at times which scares me since it can be a degenerative condition and it can eventually become hard to speak, eat, write, or in my case, make art, since I am an artist.
My tremors started out in both hands a few years ago and have definitely worsened. At first, I only noticed that I could never take a good picture because I couldn’t keep the camera steady enough to take one. It has worsened since then and affects more daily activities, such as writing, typing, pouring/drinking liquids, dropping almost everything, etc. I noticed the voice tremors starting probably a year or two after the hands.
My balance has noticeably worsened to the point that I often start to fall over while just walking around the house or even standing still. It isn’t unusual for my husband to push me back up as I start to fall over like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
For a long time I tried to dismiss it because I didn’t want to think something might really be wrong. I tried to blame it on anxiety or weird medicine side effects. I am glad that I don’t have MS or Parkinson’s which I feared sometimes. What finally made me bring it up with the neurologist is that the geneticist I saw for my Ehlers Danlos testing a few months ago seemed concerned by how much my hands shook.
The last thing I want to do is take yet more prescription medicines, but I am considering it in hopes that it might slow down the progression and alleviate the symptoms a bit. The only bad thing is that all the meds they use to treat this condition can worsen my depression, so the neurologist wants me to get the ok from my psychiatrist before we decide on a med to try.