blogdeath – part one

and so that time rolls around again where I ponder killing the blog, for it’s inevitable decline is like a cocktail stick being repeatedly jabbed in my eye, very very slowly, i.e every few days when I remember that it exists and that I never post, and that I miss my blog friends, but really, truly no longer no how to communicate what is going on in my head these days.

Writing about everyday tedious crushing depression is easy. It goes like this ‘lalalala life sucks, I suck, there is no hope of life or me ever not sucking, what is the point of it all, oh the anguish, fuck it all I’m going to listen to some Sigur Ros and cry’…
A lot.

You’d think one would get bored of writing various versions of that essential nubbin, but really, not so much. I managed it for months, and never really seemed to tire of it. It was an outlet, I explained to the world at large my pains, there were some oohs and ahhhs, and I felt justified that my life was indeed a bit crap and there was no hope for anything other than a tortured disappointing half life.

Now, things are a little different – I feel I am actually on the path of ‘recovery'(as gabe terms it, but I prefer to think of it as learning how to manage the crap). I have a full time job, which I am actually managing to not only keep, but almost enjoy, and be involved with. Granted it is exhausting at times, but compared to how I was two years ago, it’s a minor miracle that I can keep going for 8 hours a day never mind doing it 5 days a week.
I have a partner, and am slowly learning how to not let my moods, anxieties, selfishnesses, and general craziness interfere TOOO much with the general enjoyment of the relationship, although I still manage to fuck things up royally from time to time, but you know, who doesn’t?

The problem is, I had built up a whole lexicon of suffering, a dictionary of despair – I knew how to eloquently express my vague sense of disatisfaction with the world, my angst, and my heartache. It rolled off me like so much miserable water.

I have no idea how to communicate what is going on in my life now, I don’t have the words, or the eloquence to effectively portray the more subtle rhythms of recovery. The small triumphs when I avoid anxiety ripping me down into depression, when I breathe deeply and tell myself I am being an idiot, and these thoughts are the result of insecurity and fear. It’s easy to describe the violence and power of a tornado, it’s more difficult to lay down a soliloquy of sanity.

Do I even want to, or need to keep a blog about how things are improving?
Should I start writing about my favourite recipes instead? Was I ever writing for anything other than to reach out to others? Or is it just for myself?

I don’t know. I am pondering it.


Imaginary computer people, you’ll never leave me will you?

(Where did you all go….)

I have abandoned the blogging for a while now…mostly too much time at work and then too much time with C when I’m not at work. It’s been mostly wonderful. I haven’t missed writing out my miseries in this sodding thing, although I have missed the comraderie of the melancholic brigade. We pour out our anxieties, our twisted silent screams, our failures to fit into this world that absolutely nobody fits into, even though most of the time it feels like everyone but us fits in. And there’s acceptance. Understanding.
Granted, mostly we accept and understand because we don’t have to spend any actual time in each others presence because then we’d no doubt just annoy the hell out of each other. Nonetheless, the acceptance and freedom to blurt out our pathetic fears without wreaking judgement and criticism is nice.

Tonight is not a good night. I am having a silent fight with C.

You know those?

I guess you either do or you don’t.

She was kind of manic when I got home – I was kind of tense after a day of reading intensely boring research and a way too stuffy office which made me feel like I was living in some kind of fever dream.
Seriously it was about 2 degrees C outside, I had the window wide open, and I was still slowly baking to death.
The radiators must be powered by some kind of top secret fusion reactor.

I digress. Probably because I don’t want to talk about this, but if I don’t get it out I will surely implode.

C gets kind of brusque and impatient when she is being a little manic. with me anyway. She generally manages to be very polite and charming with other people, but with me, its mostly the impatient, not a huge amount of consideration for our emotional ties, and my immense insecurities and emotional issues. My problem she would no doubt say. Maybe so.

Anyway. I was trying to explain to her what I had found out during my hours of tedious research, and she was being all terse and impatient, and I was getting all defensive, not in any way prepared for anything other than a warm and welcoming partner after a depressing day. I tried to say she was being all spiky, and she responded with saying it was all in my mind (which is pretty much guaranteed to annoy me, and by now she must know that), and that didnt go down well at all. I would be the first to admit that I am prone to emotional messiness, but when C gets manic, her mood changes, she gets slightly aggressive, curt, bullish and impatient. She tries to make out that I am the only person in the world who has ever witnessed this. That everyone else finds her charming and terribly efficient. She points this out in a way that is designed to make me feel confused about my own perceptions and that my opinions are ill informed and pretty worthless.

This of course is somewhat infuriating.

When C is manic, she doesnt seem to care much about the effect she has on me. Its just me and my inability to deal with the world and my insecurities. She is of course flawless.

I am too shaken by this to want to have a fight. I am already pretty depressed by a day of boredom. I spend the evening in agony at our seperateness, wondering why my feelings matter so little. She spends the evening chatting to a friend and playing a game online.
Obviously, I am the loser here. I end up more depressed and miserable. She is all dandy.

Often I find it impossible to talk to C about my depression, my anxieties and idiocies because she just pushes through such things, doesn’t ever have them in the first place or has techniques to deal with them. I don’t like listening to myself talking about stuff that she finds so easy to push aside, or feelings that are alien to her. Her way of dealing with my problems often leave me feeling worthless, more depressed, or worse, trigger deeper emotions that set off defensive anger, that she retaliates to with soul destroying effectiveness. I can’t fight with her, because I already feel worthless. I have lost before I begin.
If I can’t share my fears and insecurities with my lover without fearing it ending in feeling worse, or a fight, then what is going wrong there?

Pit of Evil

Facebook. It is pure evil.

I try to avoid these things, and have done for a long time. Not because I am snooty, and aloof (although I certainly am), but because I know me, and me is terrible, terrible at getting anything done when I am aware of such things, and they keep winking at me, with their messages and updates and ‘your friend has put on a new pair of socks’ notifications.
I am bad enough with blogs when I am online, checking the feeds every half an hour to see if anyone has posted or commented.
Facebook brings whole new realms of timewasting pointlessness. Now I can keep track of people who I havent even bothered talking to for 10 years. I am somehow titillated by the minutae of a total strangers existence.
Is it simply because I am feeling lazy and fuzzy this week, or am I just a layabout, plain and simple?

I managed to stay off myspace, although largely through my horror at the aesthetics of the place. I couldnt spend more than 5 minutes there without flipping into some hellish trauma over the 1995 web stylings and flashing pink wallpapers. No no no no. Make it stop.

Facebook is for grownups. People who take timewasting, and pointless chit chat and call it ‘networking’. Now we have a valid excuse for arsing around online all day. We are facilitating business liasons.

Anyone for facebook chess?