tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post5949491523513906549..comments2024-03-18T20:41:39.140-07:00Comments on C. E. Chaffin's Blog: Sonnet Sunday; Picture of KilobunnyC. E. Chaffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02639448512282317750noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-44457557430607534672006-11-20T11:20:00.000-08:002006-11-20T11:20:00.000-08:00Thanks, all, and especially LKD for baring her sou...Thanks, all, and especially LKD for baring her soul. In deep depression you no longer have a soul to bare. You are bare all the time, constantly raw, a snail without a shell--which I suppose, deservedly makes us depressives into slugs.<br /><br />Norm, I do remember my Becker, and whatever it is within us that feels a failure constantly can be named a number of things. I put it simply: I have chronic self-esteem problems, and that covers most of it.<br /><br />Thanks for commenting, all.<br /><br />CEC. E. Chaffinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02639448512282317750noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-8621786896345932872006-11-20T09:55:00.000-08:002006-11-20T09:55:00.000-08:00CE:
I think your dual-vantage as a clinician and ...CE:<br /><br />I think your dual-vantage as a clinician and depressive is immensely instructive to many. <br /><br />You should compile this stuff as a self-help book.<br /><br />normAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-6245312339025412352006-11-20T08:12:00.000-08:002006-11-20T08:12:00.000-08:00Dear Craig Erick,
Well, I think you ought to be c...Dear Craig Erick,<br /><br />Well, I think you ought to be counting your blessings. Some people confuse the blues with decade old panic attacks, which are closely related to the primal fight or flight syndrome. And there’s no cure for that, not without extracting the adrenal gland, which is vital to something or other, probably life itself – that’s what my Vet said, anyway.<br /><br />And some people get into the lorry, don’t know where they are headed or where they’ve come from; when they arrive at their destination, they don’t know whether to fly, swim or die but they choose to return whence they came anyway and pot black prevails.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />CoralCoralPoetryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11562277129959477435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-12260275243359321872006-11-20T00:59:00.000-08:002006-11-20T00:59:00.000-08:00of course we're angry at you, a grown man wallowin...of course we're angry at you, a grown man wallowing in self pity etc etc <br />snap out of it!<br /><br />is that what you really expect someone to say?<br /><br />Silly man, I'm sure if you could snap out of it, you would.<br />I personally recommend you just survive, not sure why, no one's given me a good reason for that yet, and i've only found a few personal reasons, but yes, you get one life, use it, however you want, but use it all, lick the plate clean!<br /><br />Well, so much for my attempts at positivity....<br />I've sat staring at this for 10mins now, and still don't know wether to post it or not...Inconsequentialhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03543390380268105131noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-11805640753926142682006-11-19T18:13:00.000-08:002006-11-19T18:13:00.000-08:00Hi CE:
Remember your Becker. Sin and neurosis are...Hi CE:<br /><br />Remember your Becker. Sin and neurosis are the same. Kierkegaard vs Freud. Different lexicon, that's all.<br /><br />Yes, this is no solace I suppose,<br />NormAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14879983.post-59778350663622497262006-11-19T14:59:00.000-08:002006-11-19T14:59:00.000-08:00First, that photo of the bunny is a hoot. I wonde...First, that photo of the bunny is a hoot. I wonder if Bob would mind if I dressed him up in frilly pink dress and put a bow on his head. Hmmmm.<br /><br />It took me a long time to accept that actuality, CE, that my depressive nature/tendency was not an indication of a failure on my part. Love, happiness, depression, it's all about brain chemicals.<br /><br />I think I'm alive because I run. That's how I keep my head above the waves. That single hour every day during which I move my body through time and space is the only time I feel really free of it. I feel happy. Or at least, it's how I iimagine happiness feels. Don't get me wrong. I'm not down and out. You measure your mood in bunnies and rats, me, I'm more a color girl. This isn't blackness, thank god. Maybe not even blue. Just an almost unendurable greyness. A flatness, an apathy, a disconnection that if I can't shake except for that hour a day when I move my body.<br /><br />I fake it every day. I fake normalcy. I smile and nod and make small talk. But I always feel like I'm a million miles away. And I wonder if people can tell I'm faking it. And I wonder how disappointed friends and family are that I'm withdrawn, that I'm constantly withdrawing further and further from them.<br /><br />I felt okay today. The Browns played the Steeelers today. The Browns played with alot of heart...and lost. <br /><br /> I exercised hard with a lot of heart....and maybe won. <br /><br />For an hour.<br /><br /><br /><br />(smile)<br /><br />Thanks for this post, sir.LKDhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02171027823523187126noreply@blogger.com