Tag Archives: Depression

Moving

Image result for books

It feels like I’ve moved every year or two since 2012.

It’s been exhausting. Most of what I own is books– the books have moved with me every where I’ve gone. I don’t regret that– in my life books have always seemed more reliable than people. They provide emotional support and the stuff of humanity when I have been too isolated, vulnerable or frightened to interact with *real* humans. Books are kind.

Books are heavy, though.

I’m moving again.

I’m tired of living in the geographic dead space where the life I shared with my family used to be.

I’m tired of hiding where I live from them.

I’m tired of wondering if the neighbors are going to take exception to my existence again.

I’m tired of wondering if my mom was the one who sicced them on me.

I’m tired of wondering if my mom and her strategic gossip was the reason I lost all my clients, twice.

I’m tired of wondering if the jerk (co-worker) who harassed me at work (which incident the boss tried to make non-existent twice) is poisoning the ravenous-insecure fat front desk girls against me by flattering and flirting with them, and working them up against me.

This is important, because they’re the ones booking clients and making or *accidentally not* making confirmation calls and handling tips.

If I just only try to make friends with the girls at work, of course, this will be interpreted as flirting and flirting interpreted as some kind of sexy ultimate evil omen of doom that they can cluck about for weeks to make their shit boring lives seem exciting and important.

If I try to make friends with the boys, they, apparently, decide this means it’s open season to harass me.

And the girls militate against me as “competition”.

But the boys can flirt with them. Even creepy assholes. That’s totally cool.

And the gay dude throws me under the bus over his idiot straight boy crush on the little sociopath who flirts with him and then, as soon as he’s out of hearing, tries to turn the others against him.

I sort of hate people right now. All people. I know it’s not fair, but I’m so tired.

I laugh hysterically, deep down inside, when I overhear my boss wondering why he can’t keep therapists working at his clinic.

Books are good friends.

Books are lighter to carry than the weight of human indifference.

I’m moving again next week. Not between apartments.

Between cities. Between regions.

I will miss this area. I will miss the trees and the quiet water and the humble tangled groves and the wide sunrises and sunsets on ploughed fields. I will miss the past sewn into every angle of the ground and weather like blue stitches in a childhood quilt.

I will miss my home.

I won’t miss living here.

Wish me luck.

 

 

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if death is pushing daisies, desire is pulling off their petals.

I don’t think she’ll want me.

when she finds

my goddamn skull is a cave of Aladdin horrors and she

shuts

although she brightened while we met and left.

It was hard

when I was trapped in

a world I couldn’t fit.

Knowing I am the trap

I can’t get out of

is worse.

Open.

 

 

Directive.

crumble smooth plaster. Unveil

the tomb. breath into bones.

Resurrectionist anarchy bleaches the land into color.

 

Don’t leave one single dead

soul living

dead

 

 

tired beyond reason

20161101_073754

That picture doesn’t really have to do with anything.  I feel.

So, all this has been difficult to deal with.

I’ve been drinking a little more than usual, which is a thing, I think, that is bad.

Drawing is better than drinking. Dancing is better than pacing.  Writing is better than laying on the floor- sober- staring at the base of a book shelf for hours at a time.

So I’m going to try to write more.

I’ve been too tired to do anything lengthy or linear. Yeah! Who needed that shit?!

Thinking of all the things boiling under the surface of your life.  All the things that could go wrong. Trying to calculate how many of them are happening and how soon they could happen and what you can do to fend them off and where you could go if you can’t.

When it’s too much effort to lift your foot from the car to the ground after you’ve opened the car door. But you know it looks funny that you’re just sitting there with the door open.

I don’t feel like the sort of person who survives. Times like this. Things like this.

I found my new favorite quote today.

I have never once in my life consciously and deliberately listened to a song by Madonna. Lady Gaga, Yes. Madonna, No. I don’t know why.  I’m sure they must have drifted past me, in stores or lobbies or wherever.

“People say that I’m so controversial, but I think the most controversial thing I have ever done is to stick around” – Madonna

But who did Madonna turn to, when Madonna was depressed?!?

Among others- Maya Angelou.

 

And that sums up social progress in America.

***   ***   ***

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.