Just call me Ms Dragon

This past New Year's I did what millions of other people did, I made a resolution. I resolved to get out of bed and stop hiding, stop bingeing on junk food, watch less tv, exercise even a little bit every week, and make something of my sad hopeless life. The only part I've managed to keep is the junk food part, for the most part I've been eating healthy reasonably sized meals. Otherwise I've completely failed.

Now I realize that setting goals and making changes based on the rolling over of the calendar is a purely psychological trigger, but I tend to be a black-and-white-thinking fatalist and had settled into the belief that since the first 21 days of 2012 were a depressing failure the rest of the year was a hopeless write-off so why bother. I understand this is a gross overreaction, but it was what my serotonin starved, bedridden brain had decided. Until I read an article this morning on the Chinese New Year and the year of the dragon. It dawned on me that I have another shot at "new year new me" and it gave me hope on this dreary morning. And as I've stated before, hope is a rare commodity in my life so I try to embrace anything that triggers it. So instead of a fabulous me in 2012 I am now going to work on a fantastic me in the year of the dragon. Completely arbitrary, totally psychological as it doesn't actually take a new year to start making a new you, but like I said anything that triggers hope in my dark world gets my attention.

Now i am not at all spiritual or superstitious, in fact I think astrology is ridiculous hokum, so colour me a hypocrite and let's continue. For it wasn't just the fact that tomorrow is the start of a new lunar year, but what I read about the year of the dragon that inspired me. The dragon is considered to be the most powerful of all the Chinese zodiac symbols, and is associated with high energy, prosperity, and superior control. When I read this I realized that that was basically what I was shooting for with my original resolutions. The dragon is seen as a good symbol that brings with it a change from bad to good. How perfect? That's exactly what I need. I further discovered that this past year was the year of the rabbit, a symbol associated with instability, and unstable is a very apt description of this past year. I took this as a sign that I need to try again, and take advantage of "the change from bad to good" whether I'm superstitious or not.

I also learned that when creating the dragon totem ancient Chinese tribes combined totems of the Phoenix, tiger, lion, and scorpion so the dragon is considered to be "everything". If you're a dragon you're everything. And that is what I want, to be everything I've ever dreamed of. Strong, courageous, successful, innovative, hard working, and happy. It seems like I've been side tracked forever because of this illness, but this is the year of the water dragon. A year that only comes around once every sixty. So maybe this my year, my rare unique year to finally conquer. To make a change and succeed instead of fail.

It's completely superstitious and ridiculous, but so what? Nothing else has worked so why not give it a try? It has given me hope that maybe this year will not be a total write off so I'm gonna run with it. First step, actually get out of bed tomorrow and accomplish something other than 10 hours of tv watching and a nap. Wish me luck.

Call me Ms Dragon. I am everything.

Why would I help someone I hate?

I can't seem to get inspired to write. To be honest, I can't seem to get inspired to do much of anything. I know that it's wrong and unhealthy to use the word "useless" in reference to myself but that is how I truly feel. I have zero energy and no amount of sleep, healthy food, or stimulants seems to change that. I have zero motivation, no resilience, no resolve. I have turned into a sedentary, lazy, do nothing lump. I know what needs to be done and what I should be doing, but I am physically and mentally unable to do anything other than sit or lay here and manage to breathe. I walk past my dirty kitchen, think about cleaning it, start to cry, then lay back down and turn on the tv. I sit in bed for hours on end thinking "wow I am so bored I wish I could be doing...." but I don't move, I don't change, I don't do anything. I feel hopeless, frustrated, scared, and alone. Fear has paralyzed me to the point that I have just stopped trying. I don't think I even know how to try anymore. I have given up so much that the only thing I am capable of right now is sitting here and not dying. I can manage to keep myself alive, but that's about it. I don't trust myself, I don't believe in myself, and I don't love myself. And when that is the case what's the point of even trying? I feel like such a failure and I hate myself for it. And why would I ever help someone I hate???

You all just made me cry....

I can't believe anyone actually read what I wrote.

Most of the time I feel like a babbling fool.

I don't consider myself important or interesting, so to come back to this blog after nearly a year's absence and find that people had not only read it, but taken the time to comment... wow. I'm touched, honoured, and humbled. I promise to write more as soon as I have something real to say. (right now I'm still wiping the tears from my eyes)

To anyone who's ever read anything I've written, or is reading this now, thank you. Though I will never know you in real life you have touched my life more than you will ever know. For this morning I don't feel nearly as alone. And that gives me hope, the rarest of any emotion I know.

today was a bad day

yesterday was a bad day

this week has been bad

last week was really bad

in fact, this whole month has been really, really bad....

as i sit here alone, as usual, drinking wine and listening to depressing powerful music I contemplate for the 12th time today taking a handful of pills and praying for sleep. i think i wanna die, but i'm too scared to pull the trigger. i don't believe in heaven, i don't believe in God so if I did die I'd never know it, I'd just cease to be and the world would go on. My family would be sad I'm sure, but not much else would change in the world. It doesn't make any rational sense to be afraid of nothingness, yet silly me somehow I am. There's also the guilt of making people cry, or hurting them by leaving even though I know for a fact their lives will go on much better without me.

So mostly I contemplate ways to sleep. And pass the days. And try to find ways to make myself sick, or slowly poison myself so it quite such an obvious suicide and the guilt will be less. I hope to somehow get cancer. It's sick, I know. But if there was a way to take one useful happy cancer patient and trade places with them I would. I would take their disease and the the death sentence and let them live so that I may die. At least that disease is accepted, is somehow dignified and worthy of sympathy, pity and understanding while my disease remains stigmatized, misunderstood, judged, and mocked. At least the fatal nature of cancer is accepted while the fatal pain and horrendous nature of my disease is looked down upon and judged in the most negative light.

I give up. I wanna give up so bad. It hurts. I hurts every day.

I'm scared

I'm lonely

I'm hurting

I'm crying

I'm tired

I'm just so tired of it all.....

I need help, but don't really want it

I'm so lost.....

"sometimes I feel down. believe me it's worse than it sounds." desert radio 'down'

so much worse

Did I really just say that outloud?????

"get on the scale maybe you'll have a good day." is what I said to myself and then sat there stunned and a little afraid. Is this what I've become? 3 digits (preferably 2) on a digital scale, letting this heartless souless machine that doesn't even know what the numbers mean decide my destiny for the day and put a smile on my face or tears in my eyes. You see I've always just thought of myself as someone with bipolar 2 and body image "issues", but lately these issues have been morphing into full on taking over my life and thoughts. There has to be a way to take back my life.... I just haven't figured it out yet.

my identity

i spend most days not knowing who i am. or what i want. or where i'm headed. i hav said thousands of times that i really really don't know who i am.

but that's not true

not even close

the truth is i know exactly who i am. i'm the sick one. i'm the weak, fragile, delicate one who's not doing anything because she's sick.

i'm too sick to work. i'm too sick to maintain a normal schedule. i'm too sick to have my children live with me. i'm too sick to maintain relationships. i'm too sick to be responsible, or accountable , or dependable. i'm too sick to have direction, or purpose, or goals.

so i stand still. or sit still. in all actuality most days i lay still. and do nothing. my life has been on pause for nearly 10 years because i'm the sick one. i'm that person in my own eyes, and in the eyes of everyone who knows me. failure is the norm. giving up is expected. and i am accountable to no one. not myself, not my parents, not my friends, not society, no one. but it's ok because i'm sick.

i don't wish to downplay mental illness. i do have an illness. it is real, and at times those with this illness really are too sick to function. but not for nearly 10 years. not me for nearly 10 years.

all i see is the illness. all i feel is the weakness. all i know is failure. all i can do is hide.

i don't know how to break this cycle, this pattern, this trap. they say it takes 21 days to form a new habit. how long must it take to break a 10 year long one? one that is so ingrained in the core of my being any attempt at change brings on panic, fear, and a total loss of rationality.

my confidence is below zero. my energy, will, strength and drive are non-existent. in my conscious mind i want more, but in my heart and subconscious i find it impossible and give up before i even start trying. the lows are getting lower, the highs have nearly disappeared, and i have given up on myself mentally, emotionally and physically.

i don't know where to start. even starting to think about starting brings on unbearable uncomfortableness.

i have become my illness. i am not a person living with, or fighting mental illness. i am mental illness. its who i am. right now its all i am. its all i know.

i am the sick one...

something's gotta giv

haven't posted in a long time, but not all that much has changed.

a month and a half ago i moved into a great apartment in a great new city, but i am still my not great self. i wanted to start fresh in a new environment, new surroundings, with a new plan. so far no fresh start and not one bit of sticking to the plan. after a month and a half i am not even close to finished unpacking. there is still a room completely full of boxes, a dresser in the hallway, and i have yet to commit to the arrangement of my living room furniture after 12 different tries so that too is a disaster area. i planned to go to bed at a decent time, wake up early, and most importantly get out of bed every day. FAIL. i planned to stop wavering between starvation and overeating and eat a whole food, healthy, energy boosting diet. FAIL. i planned to start school and make friends and learn a craft and build a future. FAIL. i planned to get a job, meet people, gain experience and confidence, and feel useful. FAIL. i planned to find a roommate to help with rent, start budgeting, start saving, and get control of my impulse buying and wasteful spending. FAIL.

in reality i spend most days in bed watching tv on my computer and bingeing on sugary, salty, fatty, carb loaded food to try and fill the giant void inside of me that i thought i could run away from. i moved halfway across the country to escape the pain and the emptiness but it didn't work, pain and emptiness followed me. or more truthfully pain and emptiness are inside of me, so much a part of me that i cannot escape them and they just moved right along with me. I barely clean anything in the house. I'm not even taking care of myself. Showering is such a chore that sometimes I goes days (several days) between them. I neglect my face, my teeth, everything. I am gross and disgusting. I am a mess. And I don't care. But yet I do.

See here's the thing. I am tired of being poor and worrying about money, yet I spend money I don't have on things I don't need and waste money on binge food (1/2 of which usually gets thrown out) like crazy, i am not motivated to find work, find a room mate, or find my passion in life so that i can actually focus on a real career. I hate being fat, chubby, and out of shape and want to be thin and fit yet I binge eat constantly, don't eat regular meals, don't eat healthy foods, and don't exercise at all. I am lonely and want friends and a boyfriend yet I don't try to go out anywhere, in fact i rarely leave my apartment. I don't actively put myself in situations where i could meet people and even if I did I would be too shy and lack the confidence to speak to anyone or put myself out there anyway. I want to not be broken and sick anymore yet I don't take my meds, don't see a counsellor, and haven't even tried to find a Dr out here yet who may be able to help.

I want so many things yet I am doing nothing to get them. I want so much change, but I do not have the energy, motivation, drive or inclination to work for any of it. I am exhausted and feel like I have nothing left. I feel empty and useless all the time. I feel broken and not good enough so what is the point? I feel like it will never, can never change so why bother. I feel like sick and weak is all I know how to be anymore. I am so afraid to fail that I am afraid to even try. My confidence is so low that I assume total and complete failure at EVERYTHING from furniture arranging, to school, to diet, to friendship and so I refuse to try. I sabotage myself at every step before I even begin because quitting has become easier to take than failure. Being stuck and immobile and frozen and not caring not trying is better than failing. As long as I don't fail. I can't deal with anymore proof that I'm not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, talented enough, or anything enough. I can be a useless nothing easier than risking proof of my failure.

So here I sit. Fatter than when I moved here. More exhausted, stuck, broken, and depressed than when I got here. And not showing any signs that the pattern will change. At this rate within a year I will be a 180lb slob who is completely broke, on the brink of homelessness, living in a disgusting mess of an apartment, and showering 3 times a month. I will spend every, not just most, days in bed and leave the house once every two weeks or so. It sounds horrible. It is not what I want, but it is where I am headed. And I don't seem to have it in me to do the things necessary to change the downward slide.

I want and need change. I want and need a life. I'm just too lazy and useless to do anything about it. I have become so entrenched in my sick, weak, victim role that it's become impossible to break free and be anything else. I'm letting my depression, eating disorder, bipolar, and borderline completely take over and ruin my life even more than they all ready have. I'm letting them take over to the point where it's soon going to be too late. I've wasted so much time, and just keep wasting it. Days, weeks, months gone.

Yet here I sit. Doing absolutely nothing about it.

Most days I just want it to all be over, but I'm too lazy even to do that.