Tuesday, March 24, 2015

WTF with the craziness part too: meet Bob

OK...back to our earlier episode, when my keyboard went tits up. Turns out it was the not the keyboard, its the ipad I use at the coffee shop was not cooperating. Now, the repalacement keyboard I got, while it works, is a piece of shit. I am using the apple keyboard that I was using for my desktop that I use to edit video on...so I have to wait for the keyboard I ordered for that to come in so I can turn the apple one back into my portable one....yeah, fucking first world white people problems for sure...

so what does all that have to do with mental health. it's these little issues that make me fucking nuts.
it just increases my anxiety to astronomical levels that cripple me and make me not want to get out of bed in the am...or brings to the forefront all the suicidal ideation that constantly lurks around in my brain and trys to turn it into a plan.

Here are my various diagnosis' as given to me over the past years as I have journied down the rabbit hole.

Chronic Depression: I have the kind that does not go away. It's not situational though situations make it significantly worse. I am generally just at a low ebb pretty much all of the time. Anhedonia is a good term that more or less describes my affect.

Anhedonia

I feel empty and bereft of any kind of feeling a lot of the time. I don't always look dire or dead in the eyes. I have developed the skill over the years of being able to fein interest and excitement. I desperately want to feel good and joyful about what I do and have found that if I force myself really engage, I do get some relief in the moment. The nasty side effect of this in my case is that post this positive  experience, I am dead exhausted and takes a long time to recover to my normally low level from the even lower level I launch downwards towards like a Texas dry well dig....this is called going down the rabbit hole. The deeper I get, the harder it is to get out. It's looking up towards the opening and watching the light at the entrance get smaller and smaller, the iris constricts, the light becomes a pinpoint, then disappears. I am so far down the hole now, I can't see to find my way out.


Oh  yeah, was supposed to introduce to the 3 people who read this worthless endeavor who Bob is:

Bob is named after Bob Dobbs, he of the Church of the Subgenius, the ultimate giver of slack.
The voices who speak to me that are not helpful, useful or valuable are collectively known as Bob. I use this thing called ACT: Acceptance and Commitment Therapy to talk to Bob.  But more on that laterr, I need to go to Radio Shack to return some useless crap they sold me recently. Not entirelyy their fault, partly mine but nonetheless,  need to deal with it plus the stupd I ppad is ffreaking out again as you can see....

More diagnosis later as well





for now, here iss Luuna siinging for the sick andd  injur:ed   

sorry foor the weird typso...the idad is possessed byy demons at the moment:










1 comment:

  1. i want to say i'm sorry
    i'm sorry i bothered you
    i'm sorry i taxed you
    you feigned interest
    and i needed someone to hear me
    and validate me
    and kno that i wasn't a complete fuckturdup that i felt like everyone else thought i was
    and you listened
    and politely struggled away as best you could
    sorry
    i just needed someone to listen
    and you did

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