anxiety

How to be depressed

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

For all people not knowing what happens or goes on in the mind and life of a depressed person: here’s the 101..

First things first. You start off by sleeping at 6 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon. Get up raising your eyebrows in a welcoming gesture to the dark clouds that surround you and the suffocating fog that occupies your mind. Don’t get out to get fresh air. If you must, limit yourself only to go buy alcohol and cigarettes*, and occasionally a loaf of bread and some cheese which you’ll then live from the rest of the week. Oh and noodles, also do the job. Spasm out every once in a while to spend excessive portions of money on healthy and exclusive foods to then cook yourself a luscious and elaborate dinner, which you will stuff yourself so full with, so that the rest of the week you will punish yourself for feeling fat by eating just grilled cheese sandwiches again.

Lash out at everyone you love, to then cry yourself asleep, realizing how you’re all alone in the world and have nothing to live for, because you don’t deserve to exist.

Don’t finish anything you ever start, whether it’s a formal obligation like school or passionate ambition like writing a book. Make sure to satisfy the necessity to confirm that you’re an all time failure at all things you attempt.

*{editor’s note: wrote this 5 years ago, I don’t smoke anymore}

 

Disclamer: This is of course not an actual guide on how to be depressed. Please note that you may choose however you want to be about it. I wrote this purely from my own experiences with depression. Yes, I am that open about it. No, I don’t care what anyone thinks of it.
Advertisement

Life line.

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

All she wanted was a hug
A kiss, a warm consoling hand
On any part of her skin
When she told you she longs to no longer live
All she wanted was a few seconds of your time
Not hours, like you assumed
And yes you gave hours of your day to her
Spending time together, having fun
Watching videos, cuddling on the couch

But in this moment
She lost all of herself like the fleeting reflection of a moons full cycle into the new

She knew it would return, but right now there was nothing
Not even a speck of light
And all

She needed was a hug, a kiss
A warm consoling hand
On any part of her skin

But you said you had to work
You don’t have time for this right now
She asked you if she could die
You said no, but you showed her yes
By dismissing her pain, dismissing her clear call for your positive attention
You had to work cause your deadline wouldn’t wait

Wasting all week for the last moment to never make it in time to keep your promises anyway
Maybe she’ll jump your dead line some day
That used to be a life line but you pulled it away.

“My man”

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

Somebody called you “my man” today… doesn’t seem like much special, but I caught myself in the act. I can’t believe, that after over 3 years of being in an exclusive, passionate, insane, magical and committed relationship, with healthy -and unhealthy- doses of attachment, obsession and infatuation, when someone refers to you, today, as “my man”… I still get the uncontrollable urgent tendency to say: “I don’t have a man”…

How is this even possible? When all I clearly, obviously want is to be yours & you mine. But see, that’s the thing… No I don’t know what the thing is, but there’s a thing.

I think I’ve never come to terms, or reconciliation, or agreement even, with myself that this, that you… that this with you is real.
Somehow it always stayed lingering, simmering, marinade-ing on ‘fairy tale’ level. Maybe this clarifies a little of my mechanisms surrounding you and your behavior and disappointments related to you.

I can just so easily write you out the story. At least I think I can, but evidently I really can’t. If it’s surreal, like a dream, then I am lucid enough to control what happens. Except with you, I’m never in control. Not over you, which I shouldn’t even have to want (if you would only behave), not over any situation with or regarding you either, because you’re equally if not slightly more stubborn and prideful than me.
A constant power struggle, and the mindful positivists tell the people of worries (like I am) that if controlling the situation is impossible… it’s OKAY, because at the very least you can control yourself and how you deal or react. NOPE!! not me, not this one, I can’t. Not with you, ohh irony, “my man”.
Maybe that’s exactly what really does make you “my man” and this struggle won’t end until I realize and more importantly, embrace you as you are,
MY MAN.

but what if you
put me to shame?
what if you make
me look like a
fool? what if you
betray & play &
I’ll never know
… control …
… anxiety …
who ever has any reason to trust anyone?

Stop looking.

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

He kept showing my only each and all of the reasons why I broke up with him in the first place. Every time we’d interact, he’d whip out another classic example of his asshole self, his selfish behaviors, his grave lack of responsibility, his inability to care, try, reflect or understand, his stubborn stuck up spoiled blown up ego and pride that he continued to hide behind.

So I had to stop looking. I had to look away and stop feeding the person that I hated he’d become with my attention and frustration. I realized only now that this person he was becoming, thrived on my anxiety and my attempts to bring out the best of him gave him fuel to desperately keep holding on control over himself.
My obsessiveness, I shall admit, must’ve enabled him to retreat from willingness to arrogance.
Yet he truly was convinced he was evolving as a person. But growth and evolution are a one way direction. You can’t grow into a littler man. He was becoming less of himself by trying to be free, while he already was.

Still, his life so his choice, his prerogative. But I wasn’t willing to stand idly by and let that happen to the man I love. I tried my everything to make him see and realize what he was doing and what he was letting happen, but there is only so much one person can do for another until it crosses outside of your jurisdiction. It wasn’t up to me.

So I’m not looking anymore. I’m walking away. My hands clean. My conscience clear. My heart emptied of dead weight. My soul cleansed from all the hurt and sorrow. No more of his drama in my tomorrow.

Although I might’ve been the cause and reason of all of this. I arrived in his life, shook it up and down, put pressure and pushed him, had extensive needs and expectations. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Whether I did this, or he. I don’t want it anymore. It’s holding me back from being myself, from my own journey, my growth, my evolution, my becoming of my self.

I will have to learn to fabricate a future for myself that doesn’t include him. Give up all my plans and dreams. Start all over, again.
Point the direction of my hope on myself again. Put my thoughts and feelings on a path surrounding myself. Pray for my own happy ending. By myself. Alone, as I’ve always been. With whomever I was.

Survival is selfish.

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

My neighbors might think I run a bdsm dungeon, because at times I scream and cry so loud that it sounds like I’m being tortured.

Which, essentially, I am.

I have episodes of depression and anxiety attacks that are so severe. When every fiber in my body is conspiring together to hurt myself.
In the pure desperation to overpower myself, I have no sense of control.

By any means necessary, I have to protect and save myself.
From myself, by myself.. that struggle not many will understand.

I can’t rationalize myself out of it, there is no logic or reason.
There’s only survival.
Calming myself down could actually turn out to be more dangerous.

Every episode asks for its own individual approach. One time, a cigarette might suffice. The next day a walk could ease my nerves. Another moment I will collapse in the weakness of my flesh and dissolve in the saltiness of my tears.

There is no way to prepare or prevent these attacks from happening or coming at me.
There’s no way to know in advance how to deal with that particular anxiety that’s going to infect me next.

Once I’m in it, I’ll fight with all I have to reach through and make it out alive and unharmed.

By any means necessary, I won’t apologize for how. Survival is selfish.

The danger of a lone being.

~ Gita ~ 5 Comments

The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness

The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness.

It’s the forceful necessity to have only yourself to count on and deal with, in every situation, through every cognition and emotion, during every smile or teardrop, and every breath that falls too heavily.

While part of you suffers from urges to end all existence & an equally desperate part is looking anxiously to find purpose, still. Those being only two minor examples of the thousands and thousands of scattered pieces of self that constantly reflect and contradict one another.

It’s easy to get lost inside the mazes of your own heart and mind intertwined, when your soul feels trapped and the only way out is out of or through yourself. But what if there’s nothing, no one, outside of yourself to reach out to? Nobody you can truly trust, nobody to have meaningful interaction, nobody to share or exchange ideas and thoughts with, nobody to empathize or care with you.

I don’t claim to need anyone, but I don’t believe any person is capable of carrying their entire life by themselves one hundred percent of the time.
Of course, essentially, in all beginning and ending as well as most of the time in between, we are just ourselves by ourselves. But what becomes of this self, if it is only that connection you have… for days, becoming weeks, turning into months, building up to years. How does one grow out of themselves if all they have as reference, is their self, their own, alone, always…?

How dangerous can you become, by yourself, before interference becomes obvious? Who is to draw the line, but yourself, turning the whole thing into pure rhetorical irony?

To take it a little further, because why not? Or actually, because why not.
Who will then, when the line is drawn and interference becomes inevitable, be the one to step in between and flip the switch? Which switch would flipping become to have the mostly preferred result? What is this result supposed to be looking alike?

Who decides all this, or anything, the self that chose to become dangerous just because its possibility was an endless option, or the one who found cautiousness significant enough to inquire for change, or any of the other infinite varieties of self that have potential to be puzzled together from all the scattered pieces alone?

Breaker of all my hearts

~ Gita ~ Leave a comment

Breaker of all my hearts
You forced me to live in confinements of hurt
You suffocated me in stress and drowned me in my own depression
You strangled me with anxiety and throttled me with insecurity
You cut my skin with neglect and abandonment
You never understood me and you never cared to try
You’ll never understand me and I’ll never know why

You pretended to love me
While you intended to kill me
By giving me all of you
Building me up with all you have
Letting me shine with light I borrowed from you
But it was never mine to have
I belong to the darkness
And you could never respect that
So you decided to break off every piece of what you gave me
Until bit by bit I crumbled back to nothingness
Hoping I would mean less to you
Expecting me to choke in my own worthlessness

Now here we are, it’s all over, there’s nothing left
How does it feel? Are you satisfied? Can we be done now? Done with the hurt and the anger, the unforgiving misunderstanding, the unwillingness, the pride and ego…you broke me to build yourself, because you were afraid I’d break you like I broke myself. Because you think I’m stronger than you. That’s why you don’t love me, truly. You fear me.