Tuesday, July 10, 2007

At 5 Kilorats

Despair is giving in absolutely to catatonia, immobility, infantilism, hopelessness, bowing down to the darkness, agreeing with the Devil.

In depression you experience the temptation to all these things but persevere in the face of them, acting as if, pretending to hope, believing one day you will be better.

My weeping spells generally occur around 11AM or 4PM or both. Today I was hit early, in the shower, around 10 AM. What triggered it? I was remembering my last hospitalization in January of 1996, when it took all the strength I had to get out of bed and get into the shower. I mean all my strength. Every last jot and tittle of my conscious will.

Afterwards I tried to tie my shoes. I couldn't remember how to tie my shoes. It was as if I had to re-think every step of the process, to learn all over again as if I had never done it before. It was extremely puzzling but I finally mastered it.

Likewise as I was showering today I was forgetting how to shower; in what order did I apply shampoo? Had I shampooed already? When to scrub my back? I burst into tears because I was reminded of trying to tie my shoes in '96.

When severely depressed you can't take any automatic behavior for granted, and it's a terrible thing to have to start every task from point zero, to have to look up your own phone number, to try to remember anything you've read. Depression is much harder on the memory than ECT; how I wish I had insurance and could afford ECT! So on with the drug trials.

You see, my present antidepressant is Cymbalta, which has a short half-life, which means the blood levels rise and fall quickly, much more quickly than Prozac, for instance. Therefore missing a day or taking a half dose for two days can completely undermine any progress. Thus I wonder if part of this roller coaster is because mornings my blood level is lower, and perhaps I have another drop in the late afternoon--then this is my usual pattern in depression of sadness seizures, so who knows?

I think it may be time to change my antidepressant. This one has me sputtering; it drops me like an eagle drops a fish back in a lake, where I wait for another eagle.

"Tears on my keyboard..."

Finished 26,000 words of novel revision. My how it sucks! Of course I think all my work sucks in this condition. I've been going through my unpublished poems and deleting liberally, poems that failed, poems I never want to see again.

I do feel better after I cry; numb, perhaps, but the tension is somewhat relieved. In my grief my infant self cries out for Daddy/Mommy/God. Pitiful, huh? But human, so human..

I don't know God. He may know me. Let him worry about me; I'm too sick to worry about him.

5 Kilorats,



  1. Purple Ash

    I burned
    all my journals
    the last few days.
    Fire. At last,
    real warmth.

    A surprise,
    the times they'd disappointed
    my desire screamed
    for revenge.
    I obliged.

    No note
    book begged
    a second chance.
    Each followed its brother,
    too cold to complain.


    Free, I started a new journal. On the third day I asked myself, "What the fuck are you doing?

    Haven't opened the thing since. Now that feels better, ya know?

  2. It's awful being a by-stander to depression, watching someone suffer and feel completely helpless - my mother is bipolar and my mother-in-law has chronic depression.
    Hope you climb out of this valley soon, pehaps you're right about a change of medication.

  3. I wish I could write something that would help. But I've been down in the damned pit more than a few times, and I know how worthless platitudes and "encouragement" would sound to you.

    This is not a platitude: You really do matter to those of us who visit this blog, and we wish you well. This may not seem like much, but it is real. Hold on to that.

  4. Anonymous3:49 PM PDT

    Oh, what production is your daughter in?
    Perhaps I can attend it myself.
    No, not KD.

    Here I found a few things for you the other day:


    Inside Out --- no so good but perhaps timely.


    The Fountain -- a bit more interesting - simple ending.


    "True teaching is always an epiphany
    sometimes a clap of thunder...
    but often only a whisper
    easily missed.

    if I knew of of a wiseman, or acre, i'd send you one or three...


  5. Anonymous3:53 PM PDT

    Oh, and the bad spelling in the result of fast typing and a slow brain ;)

    btw - i believe i've met your xwife.
    did you used to spend free time at the clinic?

  6. Thanks, all. Anon--no clue. Another spelling impaired anon said "Annie Get Your Gun," why I surmised wrongly. But why be coy? If you know me, just identify yourself.

    I put my guts on a plate here. What's there to be anon about?


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