Journal Writings from a Severe Depressive Episode

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Once in a while I share intimate writings from my journal, from times when I was severely depressed. I don’t do this to get sympathy, but because I hope to educate people who haven’t experienced depression themselves to get even a glimpse of the mental torture you undergo when extremely depressed. I hope sharing might help reduce the stigma and the judgmental attitudes that persist in the face of major depression. So, here goes:

“Why is it that I am screaming on the inside, and yet my voice is mute? Not a peep must pass these lips. I am invisible, even as I am seen.”

“I had to get out. I had to leave. Repeating “I’m ok”, over and over to myself, wasn’t working. I couldn’t breathe, or maybe I didn’t want to any longer. My entire body shook, even as I threw on clothes and grabbed the car keys. I’m still shaking now.”

“I’ve lost it. My composure, my hope, my perception of living. I no longer know if I even exist. No one else seems to see me either.”

“As I walk down the road, tears streaming down my face, a ribbon dangles from my journal, suspended not by wind but by movement. I should tuck it in, but I want to look unkempt. Let the outside, even my props, match the inner disarray.”

“The question asks itself, am I sad or just spoiled? Do I put this on? Is it a show? Do I want to appear unhinged? Is this for attention, and if so, why do I fail so miserably even at that, as it is made clear that nobody sees me?”

*You might notice a pattern in many of these writings, a feeling of invisibility, of not being seen, and not feeling like I matter. As the last quote shows, I even wonder if I am crying out for the attention that I don’t know how to get. Perhaps this aspect is tied to the social limitations of being autistic and suffering from severe social anxiety disorder? I wondered if others who are not autistic or socially anxious feel these same things when depressed, or if it is just me?

By the way, BetterHelp has some great resources on depression as well, so check them out!

 

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Poetic Art #3 – We All Fall Down

I’m not feeling too well right now due to one of my wisdom teeth hurting pretty bad, but I wanted to share another of my recent art/poetry drawings. Lately I’ve had an uptick of sales on my art and I truly appreciate it! Thank you so much to all those who support me that way!

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“I once had a name,
had a home, had a life.
But the winds swept thru
like they always do,
and I lost it all
at that trumpet call.
And their voices sound,
spinning round and round,
till we all fall down.”

You can find this drawing and other artworks of mine for sale at my Ebay store!

Late Night, Can’t Sleep Thoughts

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The following is a journal entry of random thoughts and feelings I wrote down one night when I couldn’t sleep. As you can probably tell, I wasn’t in the best mood when I wrote it:

“Lately I’ve been deeply struggling with so many dark thoughts. Not necessarily dark thoughts about myself, but about the world and humanity in general.

I feel like I have lost all sense of personal ethics and could do anything if pushed far enough. Lie. Steal. Kill. Betray. I don’t feel guilty about this though, because I think it is a universal human weakness. I’m not sure that ethics and morality even exist once you push a human being past rational thought.

One thought resounds through my consciousness, that much of humanity isn’t worth the breath that is wasted on them. The twisted side of me wants to see the world burn, even if I burn with it. I am often confronted with the very real possibility that the world would be better off if humans went extinct.”

*By the way, if you are struggling with feelings like these, BetterHelp offers some great advice about online therapy options!

 

New Original Art Drawings! Feeling Creative Again!

I’ve been feeling artistic and creative again lately, which is an awesome feeling. Honestly, when I don’t feel creative at all, I don’t feel like myself. That in itself can add to my depression and anxiety. Sometimes I wonder if some of the meds I take don’t affect my creative output. It is a common belief among many artists that antidepressants and other mental health medications can dim or even entirely restrict the creative impulse. I’m not sure if that is entirely true, but I do feel there is at least a grain of truth in it. Perhaps, because anything that numbs you or tries to restrict emotions (even bad ones) can’t help but dull the creative spirit, which relies so much on the ability to feel deeply and be sensitive.

Anyhow, last night I made a couple new drawings and thought I would share them! There’s no particular theme with these two, I just went with whatever came out.

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If you like my artwork, check out my Ebay store to see what I have for sale!

 

Feeling Like Shit Art

I’ve been feeling like shit for a few days now (honestly, it has been longer than that, but the last few days were especially bad). So, my creative side has definitely been expressing that. I decided to make a couple ACEO sticker collages, and as you can see below, my mood comes across loud and clear with my black graffiti scrawls on the colorful backgrounds. I wouldn’t exactly call it “good art”, but it is expressive.

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I am an Emotional Writer

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I am an emotional writer. I write from whatever my current point of view and mood dictates. Often my writing may be entirely contradictory or may not even represent my general consensus on a given subject, but is instead a snapshot of a moment in time.

Reading through my journal entries and blog posts may appear to be a debate between various personalities – and in a sense, perhaps it is. No, I do not suffer from some sort of multiple personality disorder, but I use writing to discover and decipher my own jumbled thoughts and feelings. When I start writing, I often don’t know exactly where it is going to go, what the end result will be, or what I will learn along the way, but that is part of the magic of the creative process.

Please keep in mind when reading this blog, that what is being presented is often unfiltered, barely edited, stream-of-consciousness prose that represents only a momentary glimpse of my overall experience of life. If you dislike what I write today, stick around, because you just might love what I write tomorrow!

The Real Problem with the World

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The problem isn’t me. Not really. The problem is the world. The gossips. The bullies. The abusers. The narcissists. The shallow. The cruel. The snobs. The judgmental. The callous. The ignorant. The rude. The contentious. The angry. The passive aggressive. The sadistic. The jealous. The violent.

Is it any wonder I fear humanity? Is it any wonder I fear humiliation, rejection, and being misunderstood?

My experiences have taught me that life is harsh, and that is what I’ve come to expect. Not long ago, my psychiatrist warned me about the danger of “expecting everyone to treat me the way my abusers did”, but how easy is that to accomplish when so many others HAVE turned out to treat me that way? I often feel like a wounded gazelle surrounded by lions. I look for empathy, but instead I find savagery.