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Some of you 12-Steppers - newbz, alums and drop-outs, alike - might relate…

I am powerless.
I’m surrendering.

I have nothing left.

I’ve tried (or burned down) every house on the street.

Rock bottom?
Could be.
Not sure.
Thought I’d done the whole “rock-bottom” thing a few years ago.

Apparently, there’s more than one level of “bottom”.

I’m so low that I’ve run out of air and light and the energy it takes to brow-beat myself for another day.

Peter said:

”It sounds like you’re giving up on life.”

when I spoke to him about it for the 4th time in an HOUR.

I can’t stop thinking, talking, writing about it.

It’s the PINNACLE OF NARCISSISM!

(Something I DESPISE in others - ohai, others… thanks for being such great MIRRORS OF MY OWN BULLSHIT-UGH.)

BEGIN SIDEBAR:

Peter is such a patient and polite person.
He TRIES to understand.
He’s worried about me because I’m suicidal, he says.
He doesn’t want me to give up on life.
He reminds me that we’re ”getting through it together” just like we always have.
Plus, he will stop what he’s doing - mid-task - to indulge me in a middle-of-the-day snuggle in bed or make me a waffle or do all the dishes and lately, because I’m crippled, all the shopping and laundry and some of the cooking.

Isn’t he dreamy?

Plus, he gives me orgasms that I need to be peeled off the ceiling from [is that a sentence? ::frets::].

:END SIDEBAR

So’s I tolds him, I sez to him:

”No, no, no… it’s more like ‘surrendering’ - like in AA. Remember the first time you got sober?”

(Ed’s note: Peter has been through three treatment programs and has been sober or ”mostly-sober” for two-to-five-years-long stretches at a time over the course of our 26 years together. He knows what “surrender” means.)

So, I likened it to that and not as some big negative-give-up-on-life scenario.

(d00d. Buzzkill.)

I’m surrendering these things, in particular:

• I literally can’t do one. more. thing. to “help myself” - in terms of accessing mental healthcare. It’s been a year. I’ve seen four psychiatrists, a social worker, a crisis-counselor, a psych-nurse, my family doctor. I’ve taken meds, I’ve gone to “group” I’ve used the “listening service” [shorthand for SUICIDE PREVENTION LINE, ohnoes!], I did NINE-FUCKING-WEEKS of Repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, I. have. stood. on. my. fuckin’. HEAD. Plus, I’ve done a shitload of physical tests (x-rays, mammogram, lady parts-stuff, ultrasound, etc. I’m a professional waiting-room specialist.) that have worn me the fuck OUT. Not complaining - I was overdue these basics due to self-neglect.

• My one really-important-to-me thing: my walking and running, is no longer an option because: broken knee.
  The thing that has helped more than any anti-depressant or therapy-session or self-help book or 12-Step meeting or even a ”good night’s sleep” has been EXERCISE. WHO KNEW?, shrieked the fatgirl. I literally cannot walk sometimes. And I literally can’t do anything about that current FACT. Wishing it was different and feeling INFURIATED by it and sorry for myself does what? Adds to my already-feeling-pretty-shitty mood. SO! I’m surrendering to it. THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT.

• Plus, I just feel like I don’t have what’s required to be a wife, mother or friend - to anyone. (#donttakeitpersonally) It’s mentally and emotionally impossible for me to be present and accounted for to MYSELF, on a good day. I have zero reserves for other people - even if I love you with all of my heart, I’m sitting this round out. I can barely connect the image I see of myself in the mirror every morning - to the actual physical, living, breathing, blood-pumping SELF. (Plus: who, exactly, is “self”, anyhow!? The almost-44-years-long mystery continues to absolutely refuse to unravel, godDAMmit.) But, that old annoying trope rings true, suddenly!!! ”How can you love anyone else if you don’t love yourself first?” Attachment-disordered me has always-always been baffled by this idea. How does someone actually go about loving themselves? I always wondered. When it comes to that, I gots nuthin’, yo.

SEE?!? SURRENDERING IS NOT DEFEAT!!!

So, I’m basically sitting around, doing nothing.

Wait…

I did start a new art project with Drew.

(Fucking edit: HOLY FUCKING-FUCK!!! WHY IS IT SO FUCKING COMPLICATED TO POST A FUCKING PICTURE ON THIS FUCKING SITE?!?!)

And I am nurturing four houseplants to sexy-robust-ness because I put a shelf over the living room radiator and it’s THE best spot for morning light! I even hung up my crystals and they just explode the whole room with rainbow prisms.

I have been reading about science and space and the brain and atheism and medical marijuana for mood disorders, PTSD and chronic pain management.

(I’ve ALSO been looking at some seriously hot porn. I turn my back for a few years and jesus! You people are ANIMALS!)

I’ve also managed to sleep-in these last few mornings (might be the increase of meds - my suddenly-much-less-of-a-fuckin’-bitch doctor wrote me a ‘script for Elavil [amitriptyline - an old-skool tricyclic anti-depressant] as a low-dose, off-label deal for all-kindsa-different-flavoured pain like: fibromyalgia, osteo/regular arthritis, neuropathic, muscle-skeleton pain, etc. FINALLY. Is it working? Not sure yet.) and lemme tellya, I’ll take it. Sleep deprivation has always been an issue for me.

Picture it (you dirty pervs):

ME, still in bed…
at TEN O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING?!??! WHAT!?!?!?

I have managed to hobble-about and get out to the parks. Put me around, next-to or better yet, under a massive tree and I’m good. Montreal has some big-ass Maples and Oaks and Elms. I feel instantly physically more peaceful.

AND! I’m about to try my krazybrainz at meditating. My atheist neuroscientist boyfriend, Sam Harris, has studied the real-empirical-evidence on it - none of that-there woo-woo bullshit for me an’ my boyfriend, Sam. Hellz no. Meditation has been SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN to:

”… modulate pain, mitigate anxiety and depression, improve cognitive function, and even produce changes in gray matter density in regions of the brain related to learning and memory, emotional regulation, and self awareness.”

Educate yourselves, bitches.

Uhhhh, yeah.

Okay… I need to eat.
Later.

Last updated September 05, 2014