Mar 3/97. Monday.
Small steps in the right direction. My mind blank recently, words scattering as I approach them. My mind's eye seeing better than my heart. My feelings remain distant, uncommunicative, even to me. So I sit quietly, waiting to find out....
Mar 5/97. Wednesday.
0710. It was a battle just to calm the beast within me and put it to bed last night. I woke at 0200 and haven't been able to fall back to sleep since. Calming the beast is not just a difficult task, on nights like this previous one, it's damn near impossible. It refuses to be. In my mind, I picture a gun in my hand, pressed into my temple, I imagine pulling the trigger, and the immediate darkness that will follow. Blessed darkness. Anything for that blessed darkness, anything to separate from that beast.
Who am I? What do I want? Questions and answers thrown back and forth. Is all of it worth fighting for? Can I hang on, long enough to reap the rewards? Will I? Will I work my butt off to make it to the very top, visit Disney World one more time and write a letter to the people who have put me here with a very simple aching question: You didn't think I'd make it this far did you?, and tell them how wrong they were, how much I wish it mattered now, but it didn't, and then finish killing myself? People would ask, why work so hard and then die when I've reached my goal? Because, people, the truth is, I have a void within me which I have unsuccessfully tried to fill with work, with play, with movies, with books, with numerous near fatal suicide attempts, with coffee, with running,....and yes, even with trying to surround myself with people that could possibly give a damn about me as a person. The truth is, this void is eating me up. It has eaten away at my successes, at my friends, at me in the central core of being. It has taken away every happiness that I could possibly feel with every victory, every small battle I have won. It has deleted all my faith and hope in a better life, a happy life. All I want to do now is to prove a point. I was born to be a better person than who I was brought up to be. That is an unfair statement. But I have to say it at least once.
Mar 6/97. Thursday.
1305. Goals. Targets. They are finally clearer to me now. Never before has it ever been even close to tangible. But with the goals and with the ambition of wanting to see it through, comes a darkness I did not expect. This darkness is both comforting and scary. I have spent a lot of time growing recently. I can say that I have been fortunate to have opportunities thrown my way. But the emptiness continues to grow like the cancer that it is.
Yesterday, even though psychically tired, the beast reared its ugly head and roared into the pit that was my mind. I immediately thought of pills. The phrase from one of Disney's animated feature soundtrack burst into my head.. "Kill the beast! Kill the beast!". I longed for that numbness which only those precious little brown pills could bring me. I even went running, in the hopes of distracting myself, in the hopes that I would come home worn out physically, and that the beast would eventually settle itself. It didn't. But I didn't resort to my little brown friends. Why? What does that matter? I needed a clear head today. But it's only a matter of time before I falter again. Just give me time, and I'll prove I am nothing but a weakened spirit.
Because that's what I am.
Monday. Mar 10/97. 1025.
Wallowed in a black prison all weekend. Didn't go running, didn't want to do anything. Just wanted time to pass, wanted to be forgetful. Wanted to erase my existence, even if it was only my own denial of my existence. Most of all I didn't want Monday to roll around, and I didn't want to face the grind.
I'm running out of creativity, out of life. And I don't mean a social life. I never wanted that. I mean a basic life of fullfillment, contentment. A self-sufficient one.
Chasing puppy tails and kitty cat whiskers. Every interaction with every human being who does not know me is like trying to run a machine which no longer has any fuel. I stare. They stare. I close in. They turn away. I cannot give what I do not have. What do you want of me?
Tuesday. Mar 11/97. 0850.
A new day or just another day?
Dawn breaks and now the darkness looms bigger. The quietness of my own feelings amaze me. I can find peace in that darkness, and every bone in my body knows this. But I can feel an ache in my chest and the tears are only a pulse away. I am frantically trying to hold off the concrete wall of a giant dam which is already leaking. Maybe I'll drown this time....
Thursday. Late.
I'm letting things slip. I'm forgetting things, appointments, I'm not caring enough to keep on top of my life. I've lost some control, and the emptiness in me still sits silently, as if watching me, as if waiting for one more good reason to die. Today I could stare out the window, at a blank wall, at a piece of paper,.... for hours... I could forget there is a life to lead, there is work to get done, meetings to attend. Or I could choose to attend those meetings and not be there psychically at all. I could listen to one sentence and make it into hundreds in my mind.
Or I could continue to shatter my mind even more and return to the safe world of sleep. And forget. Forget. And to always forget. And when the time comes to remember what is most important, what the lessons are, I will not recall even if I wanted to. All optimism seems to have dissipated. The energy which kept the beast awake and alive seems to have gone away. For how long, I do not know. The tiredness is no longer purely emotional. It is now physical as well. I have calmed the beast .
Even later...I feel so inexperienced, so stupidly naive.
So afraid to lose everything all at once.
Friday. Mar 14/97.
0905. One more day ahead before the weekend. I must go running tomorrow. I miss it, and meant to go last night, but fell asleep watching Friends. It was just as well, I suppose. I was really in no shape to go running last night anyway. Huh,...running... I don't think I'll ever be the way I used to be anymore. I've done too much damage to my body to ever hope I could run a road race and be placed among the top ten. I was thinking just the other day how great it would be to run a 10K this Spring and try to place top three for the cash prize. (do they give cash prizes for 10Ks here??). I sure could use it. I'm tired of counting spare change for meals. It's distressing when I think about it like this. I don't want to live like this the rest of my life. I'd rather die.
14:45.... In recovery today. Trying to salvage ideas suddenly captured by my deep black hole. There's no mistaking it this time. I feel too young and too raw. Too inexperienced. Because I AM, as well as too stupid to pretend otherwise. Does trying count? Not really. I don't think so. I wish I was worth more.
Oh god...there are more faults I can find right now than I care to find out. I should just go home now.....
Mar 16/97. Sunday.
1530. My will has weakened. Insecurities plague my soul. I'm very afraid. Of not succeeding, of not getting what I need, of not becoming safe, of not winning this battle. "Who am I" was a question I asked a few days ago. "No one special" is the answer I have found. On any other occasion, it would only confirm my cynicism. Today, it has found a way to the deepest caverns of my mind and laid its nest.
I am DONE for....
I retreated again this weekend. Maybe not quite so much as last weekend, but remained alone mostly.... to recover from the week. Did some running, both yesterday and today even though tired; read some; ate only when I remembered; slept early and too much. All of it a part of a downward spiral, a hole in the heart, a cycle of wretchedness. And what I want, what I need is some rest, quiet peaceful rest, not the nightmare invaded kind which tears my spirit apart and leaves me wounded to die.
Tuesday. 0850.
Gawd....last night was pretty hellish. Fought against insomnia like it was some monstrous creature unleashed by little goblin men. I only fell asleep hours later, after getting up and turning on the lights. Who knew the darkness in my heart thrived in literal darkness?
Undergoing another week. Slow steps, not much progress, and my own inadequacies continue to chew me up. Throbbing and pain in my head resonating into my heart and soul and spreading like a cancerous freak. I cannot... I cannot....
What do I say to DH tomorrow? How do I communicate this torturous
agony? I will not... I simply will not. I'd lie, put up a front,
fight to lie, even to myself that really, things can't get
any worse. Yeah, right, uh huh. I've become such a master of
facades. "Never cry or break down in front of people because
once you do, you've lost." These last couple of years, I've lost my touch
somewhat. Tears have come pouring out at the most inappropriate places
and time. I've weakened. I used to be strong,..still like to think I am.
When I was a kid, I used to have these god-awful fights with my mom. She
would yell, I would scream. She'd say anything to really Mar 20/97. Thursday.
16:50. Changes.... what a funny thing. I used to hate them. I used to
do anything to prevent changes. I would take anything but that. Does that
mean that my life was great and I was contented? Ha ha. What a laugh.
Changes were never good because they made things worse. Just when you get
used to being miserable a certain way, you don't like to be miserable another
way.
But now. Opportunity to grow bigger, feel better, maybe even put
aside my petty grudges of the past and renew relationships I have always been
too apathetic to care about. Possible? I doubt it... but the answer is no
longer a flat NO.
First day of Spring today. What a time to celebrate. Let me leave
reflections till later. After the celebration.
Friday. Mar 21/97.
08:15. Possibilities and doors open before me. I want to be alive, at
least for the near future, to experience things I have never experienced
before. This summer, I want to go camping, I want to hit the open road
and feel the freedom of it all.
Black dogs, go away, and STAY away. In the ecstatic phase, I should
only keep in mind the possible (inevitable??) plunge into darkness again.
Can't think of that now. Live in the moment.
Monday. Mar 24/97. 08:25.
The darkness circles the periphery of my vision. Just letting me know it's
there. Simply reminding me where I have crawled out from. I know. I know.
How can I possibly forget even if the Land of Oz becomes my reality?
Weekend was fine. I even tried to socialize a bit. Did a bit of running.
Considering a 5K ever more seriously, but now not so much to win, but more
to simply run with a bunch of people like me and to feel the accomplishment of
finishing a road race after all these years. This was so trivial two weeks
ago, but now it'll be fun just to collect those race T-shirts.....just like the
way I used to collect race numbers.
It's important to keep the momentum going. I don't want to plunge too
quickly, much less headlong, into despair and hopelessness again. There
is a little bit of pessimism in me still, but I can't afford to worry. I
can't afford to worry like the way I couldn't afford to worry if I was going
to be able to buy my next meal. Live in the moment should be my mantra, but
I'm afraid this mantra has gotten me into trouble before........
17:40. So soon. So quickly. The fall of the rain. In torrents.
Drowning me. Swept into the gale, the storm, the hurricane. No time
to escape. The high, the sun shining days over. Complete....devastating,
me left with the many many pieces.....
Tuesday. Mar 25/97. 17:00.
Devastation must come to all creative things. Sooner or later it happens,
and when it does not, we await for it to happen, we brace ourselves.
It's the best living things can do. I'm alright. At least I hope so. At
least I hope I prepared myself for it. Cycle of life. Yeah...right.
What a bogus set of rules.
I have calmed myself down somewhat. My head is veiled with a fuzziness
which I can live with for now. I had to. Now, I have to.
It's nice where I'm at. Peaceful, calm, all the things I cannot be.
Emotions no longer swirling, twirling all around me.
In the process of falling apart, when things burst at their seams, I
go fleeing into a dark corner of this world. It's always warmer, safer there.
This world is too unpredictable - I cannot live with that. It's not that
I simply refuse to accept it. I truly cannot. Not being
and not wanting, is different.
Wednesday. Mar 26/97. 08:24
Slept 11 hours last night. Pretty well rested now.
Thursday. Mar 27/97. 17:20
The end of a chrnologically short yet emotionally long week. I am left
emotionally drained, so I have slept some time away to compensate that vague
empty hollow feeling.
So the long weekend of bunnies and eggs is finally here.
More time for my recovery process. At this point, I guess it's a good thing.
Who knows what or who could have possibly come up with such a ridiculous
holiday which is symbolized by bunnies and eggs? Do bunnies lay eggs? Am
I missing something here????
Saturday. 14:00. Mar 29/97.
Fragments. This word appeared in my dream last night. I don't remember
the context... but it was disturbing. I woke around 02:00 and couldn't fall
back to sleep. My heart beating too fast, probably thanks to the Elavil. I
read a little, ended up finishing the current book I've been working on - Dean
Koontz's latest - "Tick Tock". Of all the times to run out of reading
material, and as if I usually do........
I watched X Files - which I'd taped earlier in the week, and a couple other
stuff that happened to be on it. Then I merely bounced off the walls until
dawn. I hit the Y as soon as it opened at 07:00. I ran outdoors a bit, but
it started to rain, so I went back indoors. Not just that, it was chilly.
Since when did I become a wimp?
Never mind.
Back to fragments..... why fragments? I was going to write about it.
Trying to maintain some equilibrium. Must find a middle ground. A
safe ground amidst this battlefield. Can't allow an outburst which will
result in ending up at the ICU again. I can no longer pick up after
myself. I refuse to. Yet, the moment of darkness always beckons.
Especially in the midst of a cold and lonely night when only silence
surrounds and nothing seems to care. Or matter. Except long and hollow
sleep.
What else is there? The frantic search for unconditional acceptance,
unconditional love. The frustrations and the temper tantrums which scare
even me, and unwitnessed by anyone. Well, maybe a select few.
They still do.
My rampage through the years I spent living in
residence at York University must have become quite memorable to those
who lived with me. They must have thought I seeked attention. Actually,
many did, and they probably still do. None of which matters now,
of course. Maybe it started out as a cry for help, but it slowly turned
against me and wielded its blackest artistry in my face. It turned my
resentments into hatred, my fears into hostility, and it used my passion for
crafting words into cheap anonymous threats to those who loved and lived so
contentedly. For a while I thrived on the power it gave me, then later,
and only later, did it abandon me and left me witless and drained.
It destroyed a part of me. It destroyed the part of me that thought
such power could fill the emptiness in me. It destroyed my belief
that a person was whole, that a person acted and behaved in sync with its
own rhythm. I found several pieces within me, some broken, some not, and
most of the time, they fought against each other in petty quarrels and
stormy wars.
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