It's not lung cancer so it's totes cool right? Clinical depression is real. Nothing like having 14 gauge tubing shoved through your nostril while you're wide awake gagging shoving it down your throat. Suicide attempts are nothing like the movies make it seem to be. There's nothing beautiful or artistic about being put in a steel room with panic buttons every 6 feet on the wall, being monitored by your own personal security guard while you have explosive diarrhea from being pumped full of charcoal, on a cold steel toilet. Over and over and over again, until every time they sucks the contents of your abdomen out they don't find anymore pieces of little white pills.
It was years ago. But also yesterday at the same time. My horrific childhood memories include sitting in my room after being a kleptomaniac at the local mall and then taking scissors to my arms. No one ever noticed. If they did they didn't care.
I was recently asked to fill out a bio about myself, one of the questions was what was one of your happiest childhood memories. I had none. None. Everyone in the room was gushing about their answers to every question and I being an introvert anyways, skipped the question and kept to myself.
Should I have included being raped repeatedly? Beaten with special paddles broken over our asses? Being thrown upstairs in the summer because it was bedtime at 8' o'clock so the adults visiting could get high?
Life stuck in that moment.
ADHD as an adult is a bitch to live with anyway. Imagine never sleeping, over analyzing, wondering about something you said 20 weeks ago and if it's going to come back up again 30 years from now and loosing your keys looking in the same place over and over and over and over and over again.
Now throw in a bleeding heart. Vegetarian. Abused, clinically depressed person that loves the world too much...
How my brain operates on a daily basis: Melissa don't get out of bed, don't do it, just don't, the world is going to hurt you, people are going to be mean, you're going to say the wrong thing, no body likes you don't get out of bed. Also...sleep, please sleep, just sleep because sleep is good, oh but you can't sleep, keep trying, try to sleep, you can do it sleep. Its 5 am if you fall asleep now then you can at least have an hour. Why God, why God, why God, just let me sleep. Melissa it's time to get up, take your meds, holy shit you hurt today, Also where did you put that? Your everything is lost. Wallet, keys, mind.
I don't want to say I live a lonely life, but I do. Almost all of my friends have dissipated over time. Loves lost. I wake up, do nothing, do some more nothing in case my kid gets in trouble at school I can rush to listen to what happened. Sit in my hammock. Put makeup on and go to work.. Pretend everything's okay. And do it again. Also talking to my pets as if they were human and understand me. Although my dog isn't a registered ESA, when I have panic attacks she'll lay across my chest and nibble my fingers to keep me awake and lick my face until I slow my breathing down. I find that kind of innate empathy admiring.
I often wonder what it feels like to feel normal? To not be so scared that humanity is gone.
I stopped smoking for a long time. I only for the last month or so have picked it back up. A gift life has given me to not be mature enough to handle my life problems without a coping mechanisms.
Cervical Cancer. Mother nature decided she hated me so much she wanted me to rot from the inside out. Highly interesting. I have had two children. Please Lord keep them alive during this time of puberty. One of each gender. But I didn't want anymore, but I didn't want the right to be stripped away. I do have a biological clock that ticks. That enjoys the smell of babies.
But I also can't wait till they are grown and I can jump train cars.. And wonder. And adventure.
But I've known it has been back for awhile before being diagnosed. I avoided the doctor like the plague. I laugh but it's been 2 years. It's the third time... being more of me taken away each time until what's left? Nothing? I'm part Native American, So I'm pretty sure they have to let me keep my organ. How cool of a Halloween decoration would that be??...
There is a Buddhist belief that in Dharma, that says life is to suffer.
That's kinda simple and kinda fucking beautiful at the same time.
Avoiding my cancer because I'm morbid wasn't just because I have a secret death wish, but because when I know I'm dying a little bit, it really makes me feel like living. And no amount of antidepressants has this effect. I've jumped out of a plane now. I'm going to go to an open mic and do some poetry slam. I want to live like I'm dying. But if you're not everyone believes you should buckle down and be responsible.
*This thought has been brought to you by a masochist.
I'm not going to lie, it's true. It's not that I don't understand I have a family. But
attaching yourself to things of the earth is actually faulty because in death they are attached. Don't you want to go to every possible astronomical plane possible?
And don't get me wrong, this giant stupid, stupid, stupid heart of mine, wants to against all odds find the same soul to die with in every lifetime. To reincarnate together, and perhaps that's my Nirvana. To wake up everyday next to the same person.To dream a dream, of a passionate understanding and acceptance of another human. To believe Love, Love with one person can survive, not just now, but all of eternity, because not even death can do us part. God knows I want that.
But over half our carbon emissions are caused by the meat industry. Everyone wants to kill the planet. People care nothing of love and only about greed. They draw a line on souls. They don't accept looks. You know to be honest, I've been big and I've been little, and I'm mostly in between right now, but frankly I've always wanted to love me while I was fat just so I knew they loved me.
So Instead.... back on subject... I like to feel like I'm dying a bit, to remind me to live. I like to break into the beach after it's closed to feel the sand and water. It's only illegal if you get caught. I talk to the waves as if they were my best friend. When they rage I rage. The moon and I and the entire universe, feeling, loving, being perpetually sad. Gasping for air, and contemplating gulping the sea. This is what it's like to live with clinical depression. To believe and suffer for it at the same time.
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