Does Any of It Matter?

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Do you ever wonder if it all matters? I sure do. I try to be positive most of the time when I think about the things I do and whether they make a difference, but when I get depressed, the voices of doubt tend to get louder. They say some pretty mean things:

Are you just wasting your time writing and making art? Who really cares?

Why would anyone care what you have to say? Who do you think you are?

You try to support others, but do they even notice? Does it even help them?

You only focus so much on art and writing because you can’t keep a REAL job. 

Your own family never cared that much about you, why would anyone else?

If you died today, barely anyone would notice or care. Your funeral would be empty. 

You are selfish and everyone sees through you. 

You are a drain on your husband and society in general. 

I know these are very negative (some would even say abusive) thoughts, but when I am feeling low, they play in my head like a stuck record. By writing them out, I am hoping they will finally shut the hell up. Do any of these thoughts (or similar ones) ever haunt you?

 

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Symbolic Artwork for Depression, Anxiety, Bipolar, PTSD, and More

While cruising the internet, I recently came across some mental health related symbols and sigils someone had created. I thought these were pretty cool, so I did a little artistic version of my own for the subjects that pertain to my life, such as bipolar, depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, insomnia, and PTSD. They are very simple drawings, but I still like the way they turned out:

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If you enjoy my art, please consider supporting me by visiting my Ebay store!

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!

 

THIS is Bipolar Type 2

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I’ve been severely depressed for a week or two now and yesterday it kind of hit a boiling point. I decided to try to get out of the house and drive to a local park to do some journaling, but all that ended up doing was causing a breakdown. I cried on the drive over, I cried while at the park, I cried on the drive home, and when I got back home I collapsed into bed and sobbed for at least an hour straight. By the time it was over, my pillow was soaked clear through and I had a migraine coming on.

I did journal while I was at the park, but it sort of ended up turning into a mock suicide letter – I was that depressed. I didn’t have the intention to go through with any form of suicidal action, but I sure felt the desire to do so. I felt so low that I had almost convinced myself that even my husband would be better off without me and would probably be relieved to be rid of me. Depression is a masterful liar and can be very persuasive.

Today I’m not feeling a lot better. More numb than anything I suppose. My body feels extremely heavy, like I have put on several hundred pounds, although I know the real weight is internal, not external. I might try to force myself out of the house again, just to see if today might go better than yesterday, but right now, I can’t even drum up the energy to take a bath. The most depressing thing is that THIS is my life. THIS is what living with Bipolar type 2 is like. I’m stuck on a wheel that I can’t get off. I’m so sick of this cycle.

Fan Q&A: Favorite Musicians, Autism and Romance, Suicidal Thoughts

Hello! Today I’m sharing my most recent fan Q&A video from my YouTube vlog. In it I discuss my favorite musicians besides Michael Jackson and Nirvana, whether I believe having high-functioning autism makes it harder to have a romantic relationship, and exactly what kind of suicidal thoughts I have had in the past and why I hope people get help if they themselves are struggling with thoughts like that. If any of you have a question for me you would like answered in a future video, please ask in the comments section of this post or the video itself!

Depression & Suicidal Thoughts

I’ve been dealing with depression a lot lately, mostly due to unresolved childhood trauma I believe. Today I finally felt at least well enough to make a video talking about some of the things I am going through and wanted to share that in case it might help anyone else struggling. I am also going to share the written version of the poem I read in the video here:

Suicidal Ideations
Written by: Maranda Russell

If I only had a dollar
for every time
I have looked down
from a great height,
shook a full bottle of pills,
held my breath under water,
or inhaled exhaust fumes
while thinking

I could actually do it,
I could end it all –

I would have more
than enough
to pay for all the
therapy sessions
I obviously need.