Pride

I'd like to try and address pride today. Now, this is not going to be your normal, everyday discussion on pride but then what is there on this blog that you have read that IS normal?

I was thinking the other day. Really, I was feeling rather hypocritical. I think I have mentioned before that I have much more patience with others as far as their feelings (be they negative or positive), problems, and the like are concerned. I can more easily accept and even encourage the feelings and the expression of those feelings in others than with myself. When it comes to my own feelings, especially those that I deem to be 'negative' (ie anger, sadness, depression) I often tell myself that I am reacting inappropriatly; that I am being unreasonable or melodramatic; that I have no business feeling that way. It's funny because I know that such thoughts themselves are unreasonable. Can I stop them? No. Would I like to? Mmm, I think so, yes.

How does this all relate to pride you ask? Well to start I have come to the conclusion that many sins can be linked back to pride if you really look hard enough. Are such impatient thoughts and feelings toward myself sins? I don't think so, not really. And what about these thoughts makes me hypocritical? Well, I'll tell you.

I have the distinct impression that a lot of my problem is that for some reason I do not believe I should feel this way. I do not think I should get angry, and more imprtantly I do not think I should be so easily saddened, that I should be depressed. I try and tell myself that it is because I believe I have no reason to be depressed, that I am causing it or making it worse. And yet, I wonder... Is my problem more of a pride issue? Could I be thinking that I shouldn't be depressed because, for some reason I can not even begin to come up with, I believe that I just SHOULDN'T feel that way; that it is beneath me? I don't know. I very much hope not. And yet...

I do not like the way my thoughts have turned regarding this. I do not like the idea that I could possibly feel 'better' than depression. Intellectually I know that is not the case. Yet I shudder to think that the rest of me does not. That once again the disconnect that exists between my head and my heart is rearing its ugly head and causing problems yet again.

Just another thing to be frusterated with myself about I suppose... *sigh*

C'est la vie.

I Don't Want It

My family recently learned about my cutting. It wasn't entierly an accident. My younger cousin recently wound up in the hospital with a concussion, a neck injury, and a host of other problems from over dosing while she was huffing keyboard cleaner. In an attempt to make a point to a couple of my other younger cousins I told them about my cutting. My Aunt later asked one of the girls what I had said and while she tried not to tell one thing lead to another and my Aunt learned of my secreat shame.

I am actually not sure who all knows. The girls, my Aunt, my mom... It doesn't matter, it is too many. And the concern, the worry, the nagging that comes with it...

I know it sounds unreasonable, stupid even, but I don't want any of it. People talking about my 'hurting' makes me want to roll my eyes and gag. People believing they can help when they can't, thinking that I even want their help in the first place. I don't want their concern, their worry, their help, their comfort. I don't want their pitty and I don't want to be taken care of.

Sound a bit strange? I think it is confusing for those of my family involved too, don't worry. To be honest I don't have a good reason for you. I just don't remember a time I ever really liked any of that.

I'm not a hug person. Now most folks who know me would be suprised to hear that, and they deffinatly wouldn't agree. Let me explain what I am talking about.
I love people. Sometimes I'd like to smack some of them upside the head, but I love people. I want them to feel comfortable, wanted, stuff like that. And I have a tendancy to be very expressive in this pursuite. I will hug and throw my arm around someones sholder in order to draw them out or make them feel better. I think this has caused some confusion on the part of others because I tend to get hugged and draped all over the same way. I can't stand it. I have to work to not stiffen at their touch and not let them know I'd rather they weren't touching me, hugging me, whatever. I don't appreciate a hand on my back as someone talks to me (if you're letting me know you're passing behind me that's ok).

This goes double when I am feeling lousy. I don't want a hug when I am crying or otherwise feeling bad. If I do I will ask for one. I remember one time I was upset, a friend had just died. My mom reached behind her to where I was sitting in the back of the car and rubbed my knee. I wanted to tell her to just leave me alone. In fact I was disgusted with the touch.

I have come to the conclusion that as long as I am the one to initiate the touch I'm OK with it. Otherwise, I'd just as soon be left alone.

It's the same way with concern, comfort, and the like. I don't want to be taken care of and I don't want unsolicited comfort.

lol I'm going to stop now as I seem to be repeating myself.

My point: I just want to be left alone, for heaven sake.

There, that is my unreasonableness for the day lol

Good Video, Life House "Everything"

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My Child, My Beloved

I wrote this last night. To be honest, God and I are OK but we aren't speaking all that much. Not because I'm mad at Him or anything, it just kind of happened. We aren't all that close at the moment, I don't feel connected. So this didn't come from that. *shrug*

It's not very good either, as poems go. Then again, I've never really cared about that any way so no worries...

Here it is:

My Child, My Beloved

My Child, My Beloved
Daily I have watched you
I have heard your laughter
And seen your beautiful smile
I have heard your singing
And witnessed your kindness
I have basked in the glow of your happiness
And treasured the joy you have shown in My creation
I have watched you grow
And delighted in the treasure I made in you

But with the joy and laughter
Have come sorrows

Dear Child, My Beloved
I have watched you hurt
And witnessed your anguish
I have longed to gather you in My arms
And hold you as you weep
I have whispered My love to you
And cried as you have cried
My heart has ached
And My own tears have fallen
As you once again reach for the Blade
Praying the relief will last
Knowing that it will not
And once again you do not cry out
For the healing and comfort I long to give

My child, My Beloved
Know this
I Am your Rescuer
I Am your Redeemer
I Am your Comfort
I Am your Peace
I Am your Father
And I will always love you

Over Dosing

My younger cousin was in the hospital about three days this past weekend. Apparently she and her older sister, along with their respective boyfriends, have been into pot, huffing, and who knows what else for some years now. This time she over dosed and wound up in the hospital.

Stupid... right..?

I'm in a bit of a spot at the moment in regards to this. I definitely believe that this drug use is stupid. These kids are going to have a long road ahead of them if they sincerely want to stop as they have claimed. My entire family is concerned. I am concerned. I'm also feeling a bit hypocritical...

You see... I've over dosed. Four times as a matter of fact (one fairly recent). Unlike the kids, I don't do it for the high. As a matter of fact I tend to do it before I go to bed, so the only time I feel it's effect is when I wake for a brief period of time during the night. Why do I do it? I'm not entirely sure. It's something to do... something that is not cutting. I know how much I am taking, approximately how much I need to take to reach toxicity, approximately how much it takes to kill myself. I haven't been attempting suicide, y'all can breath again. Would I mind if it killed me? Honestly? Not really. And when you think about it that makes sense logically. I mean, when you're dead you tend to not care about much of anything anymore. People like to say 'Well but there is so much you will miss'... um, you're dead, you aren't missing anything. *shrug*

Anyway, back to my spot... I'm just not entirely sure if it's kosher for me to be upset with the kids for doing something that I do myself. I don't do it as often, mind you. And, if it's possible, I do it more responsibly. But there really is nothing responsible about it...

Is it the same..? I just don't know...

Forever Lost

It has been too long
Too long since I was able to identify feelings
Too long since I could fully explain thoughts
Too long since I knew myself
And I am
Forever Lost

Yeah, not that great, not that long... and yet speaks volumes...

Nothing

Have you ever experienced Nothing? No? Then let me describe how Nothing is for me.

Nothing. Wow. Come to think of it Nothing is rather hard for me to explain. lol if I could describe me experience of Nothing I think I might make my counselor the happiest man on earth, at least for the 50 minute session ;-)

Nothing. I suppose actually a good way to start describing it is to let you know how exactly indescribable Nothing is. Nothing is also Empty. Not the all-consuming Emptieness that I talked about in the last post. This one is more Numb. And yet, not the same asthe Numbness that I have felt in the past. It's just... Nothing. I know nothing, I feel (for the most part) nothing, I don't even think much at all... again... almost nothing. It's just... Nothing.


Nothing doesn't usually show up alone. He often brings a friend or two, usually Teary. I wish, sometimes that he would bring Tears with him, but that rarely happens... I get stuck with a second cousin , a cheap, unsatisfying immitation :-s.

Hmmm. I'm sorry, I don't seem to be able to describe it to you any more fully than this.

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

I was walking to the library from a class today, listening to my ipod (another Between the Trees song, A Time for Yohe) and... not exactly marveling, that denotes some awe, something good about it... anyway, thinking about how, watching me stride across campus, no one would be able to tell how awful I am feeling. I appear purposeful and confident. Not depressed and defeated. Watching me interact with others wouldn't give much of a clue either. As a matter of fact I saw a friend whom I hadn't seen for a while and I am willing to bet she didn't even notice. And that's fine. It says nothing bad about her. And it was good to see her.

Sometimes I think I wish I could appear on the outside the way I feel on the inside. But I don't think that would be very productive. I have a very good idea that should I behave the way I actually feel I'd get nothing done. I wouldn't go any where... I wouldn't do anything except for lie in bed and stare vacantly up at the ceiling, hoping for a way out of this Pit of Despair and back to the Dysthymic Haze on the Plateau that I normally exist on. Searching for a Light in the impenetrable Darkness that threatens to swallow me whole, to smother me... Intellectually I know it exists. Intellectually I know there is a Light, a way back, a way out. But that's just Head Knowledge. My Heart knows nothing but an all-consuming Emptiness, a deep penetrating Sadness...

Thoughts on Suicide and Death

Alright, it sounds morbid... and it probably is. No worries y'all, I'm not currently suicidal. But I was thinking about it and I'd like to share.

So, in some states it is illegal to attempt suicide. It's grounds for immediate involuntary commitment in all of them (or pretty much all I think). As a society we tend to believe that killing yourself is wrong, that it is bad. But I got to thinking (one time when I WAS suicidal)... Why is it wrong? Why is it bad? Who is it wrong for? Who is it bad for? Not for the person committing it. They're dead, what do they care. I think it's cultural. When it comes right down to it the laws against it, the laws that are there to try and help prevent it are not in place for the person considering it but for the people who will be affected by that persons suicide. In reality it is there to spare THOSE people the pain that the suicide of a loved one would cause.

Now it's pretty much a guarantee that just about everyone who has thought about suicide, shared those thoughts with others, or attempted it has heard how selfish it is. But I wonder... is it just as selfish for those who care about the person to stop them from killing themselves just so they won't feel the pain that comes with the loss? I mean, come on, when I've been suicidal, when I have thought seriously of killing myself, when I have longed for it and regretted the fact that I was unable to actually act on that overwhelming desire to find some sort of peace because of thoughts of what my suicide would do to those who care about me... I was miserable... you couldn't get to the bottom of a deeper hole than I was at. I felt stuck... trapped in a miserable, hopeless existence because I was once again thinking of others first... almost as if it were THEY who had me trapped. And, in a way it was. If not for them I probably wouldn't be here to write this blog. If not for what it would have done to those who love me, I'd more than likely be six feet underground by now (or however deep they bury folks). Am I sad that I am still around? Right now, not really. But then I was miserable. Then I would have given anything to be able to get rid of those feelings of hopelessness, emptiness and depression that made me feel like suicide was the only way out. I can remember at least one time almost crying (almost because I am usually incapable of crying when I feel the need) because cutting hadn't worked and suicide was the only way I could think to stop feeling so damn awful... and I couldn't do it because of what it would do to others...

So before you throw the 'Suicide is selfish' defense at someone who is considering it... think about how they might be feeling about it... Is it selfish of you to ask that person to continue in a miserable existence so that you will not feel the pain of losing them?

What Self Harm Isn't...

After an interesting conversation I had with a complete stranger (really rather ignorant, this one) on youtube (don't ask, long story and I'm not all that proud of how I behaved) I would like to tell y'all what self harm is not. Now I realize that what I am about to say will not apply to every one who self harms... for some self harm might be all these things. For others self harm may be some of these things and not others. However, it has been shown, that for most people who self harm these stereotypical ideas about self harm do not apply.

So, without further a due…

What Self Harm Is Not

Self harm (in and of itself) is not a suicidal act:Rather, studies have found that often, self harm is a means of AVOIDING suicide (I myself have used it as such). Those who self harm may also feel that it is a way of temporarily relieving intense feelings (perhaps feelings they can not identify), pressure, or anxiety, being real, live, or just feeling SOMETHING, of experiencing the pain on the inside on the outside, a means of controlling and managing pain (where as the pain experienced on the inside may feel uncontrollable), or way breaking an emotional numbness (that feeling of complete and utter numbness... of nothing... of being more dead than alive).

Self harm is not an attention seeking behavior:Most individuals who self harm go to great lengths to hide their SH from others. Wearing long sleeves or pants when it is hot out is one way that those who self harm will try and hide it from others. Self harm is, more often than not, a private act. Because it is so taboo in our culture our shame is often what causes us to hide it.

Self harm is not is not a manipulative tactic:Self harm is not done for manipulation purposes. Self harm is a coping mechanism that some individuals have developed when nothing else has worked.

Self harm is not just a teenage girl problem:While the average age that individuals start to self harm is in their early teens, self harm can start at any time in a persons life regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, or religion. I started cutting in my early 20's. I know men who self harm. It is a problem that can affect anyone.

More when I find/come up with it :-)

Between The Trees: The Way She Feels

To The Outside World

To the outside world I may seem lazy, unmotivated, and indifferent
To the outside world I may appear uncaring, calloused, and unfeeling
To the outside world it may appear like I've turned my back on what was once important to me
That my priorities are not what they should be
To the outside worldI have changed

In realityIn reality I struggle to function, I feel lifeless and drained
In reality I care TOO much about what others think, my heart bears open wounds, and my feelings often elude my grasp
In reality I long for what is STILL important to me, and pray for the strength to once again find my priorities
In reality, I HAVE changed
And it kills me

Another Poem: The Masks I Wear

This one's actually on the older side... the first few I have on here were written in '07, this one was written in '04 when I realized that I no longer knew myself any more... what was real and what wasn't...

The Masks I Wear

I play so many roles
Can you tell
Can you see
What is real

So many in one day
So many people fooled
Then one day I look to find
I've played my part so well
That I am lost

No more can I identify
The feelings that I have
Am I truly happy
Or is it all an act
Do I really laugh
Or am I crying
Beneath this facade

No one can truly know me
Those closest to me
Like others
Are fooled
My true self remains hidden
In the depths
Where even nowI am crying
For I am lost

Hope

A friend and I were discussing Hope the other day. I'll admit I am a bit fuzzy as to what we actually talked about but I wanted to share what I CAN remember:

His take on Hope... first of all that it does exist and is something desirable. Second, that it has value. After all, if it didn't exist, if it didn't have SOME value, then what are we living for? Why do we get up in the morning if not for the hope that there is something worthwhile to accomplish? What keeps people going if not for the hope that their goals, their wishes, will be accomplished, will come true?

My take on it... I don't really believe that Hope has any inherent value... that Hope, like everything else only has value if a person chooses to value it. Another friend I was talking about this with gave me a good word... Hope is not tangible, rather it is something (and these are my thoughts now, not hers) a vague idea that people have. Hope is nothing more than the expectation of something desirable... as a matter of fact the sign (as I learned it, remember that sign language is regional and so there are different signs for the same word depending on where you go) for Hope is the same as the sign for Expect.

But here' a question: if I don't value something... does it exist? I don't feel hope... Sure, there are things I would like to happen but I don't HOPE for them, I don't feel hope... I wonder... is Hope a feeling?

Does Hope exist? Or is it something that we made up, something cultural, something that is only understood through the construct of our culture and language..?

I want to leave y'all with a question, a quote from Phoebe in Wonderland:

"Are you always supposed to feel hope?"

Heath Ledger OR How Suicide Hits Me

I know everyone is weighing in on this today (and yesterday, and tomorrow...) but I wanted to put my two cents in. Not necessarily because I am overcome with sadness at his passing in particular (though I will admit to some sort of feeling of loss... good movies, VERY handsome... and it's always tragic when someone dies so suddenly). Rather what struck me the most, what latched onto me yesterday afternoon with such an iron fisted grip that as I think about it even now I am overcome with some feeling which I can not name but most certainly would prefer to not feel... accidental overdose..? Or suicide? They're not sure. The preliminary autopsy was inconclusive... the full autopsy and the battery of tests that go with will not be completed for another ten days.

Suicide.

The word hits me with more force now than it did in the past. Perhaps because I've been there. Because I have felt the hopelessness, the emptiness that rolls over you like an ocean wave threatening to drown you... and what's worse... at times drowning in it seemed preferable to fighting it... fighting the hollow feelings, the feelings of despair, feelings that, no matter how many people there are in your life, you are, in fact, alone.

The truth is y'all... we are not alone. I know it's easy to say... but remember what I just said? I've been there. And I'll tell, you there have been a couple times that, looking back on those times when I came so close to giving up, I find myself very glad that I didn't... that I fought against the pull of that ocean wave of despair... and, for now at least, I won.

If your interested you should check out this site 'To Write Love On Her Arms' (www.twloha.com). It's goal is to bring more awareness to things like self injury, addiction, depression, and suicide. They're also on myspace too (I think you can find a link to their myspace page on their site)... Jamies recent blog is really amazing...

Take care all and please remember... it really does get better.

A Glimps into a Major Depressive Episode as I experience it...

Just thought it would be interesting... I was berating myself last night for not preparing for the GRE (Graduate Record Exam... basically the SATs on steroids and usually required to get into Grad School) and so not being able to apply for Grad school for the fall... which means that I have to figure out what to do the year in between... and I'm scared... worried... apprehensive... and slightly tearful when I think about the fact that I have absolutely no idea what I am going to do.

Anyway, while giving myself a good mental kick in the butt I had to also remind myself that I had a very good reason for not being prepared to take the exam... that I had basically not been functional for the past seven or so months.

Why did I have to remind myself of this? Because I have found that, especially after a really bad episode, once I am again out of the Pit and dwelling on the plane where exists my Dysthymic Haze... I find it very easy to become impatient with myself... to tell myself that if I had just tried a little harder, if I had just put more effort into functioning, that I could have done it... That the anxiety I am feeling about my future is the direct result of my irresponsibility and not of a real and terrible disorder (sounds melodramatic but wait till I describe it for you) that took hold of me yet again... that consumed me... that held me in darkness.

I've had two episodes that were particularly unsettling in my life... were they the only times I found myself in a major depressive episode? Probably not. They were, however, the worst... times that, if I didn't know I had experienced them... if I did not have proof in the form of journal entries that they really WERE that bad... I could easily convince myself that they didn't happen, or that the problems they cause, the disruption that took place in my life, was of my own making... was my fault.

The first was a few years ago and I was actually surprisingly functional, at least I appeared that way to all save my room mate. I went to classes, went to work, did my homework, went to church and followed through on all my responsibilities there (I played in the worship band, lead worship for our college group, went to leadership meetings). And then I went home. I slept a lot. I closed myself in my room and watched movies in the dark all the time. Everything seemed to take so much effort, so much energy. Taking a shower drained me so much that I would make my way back to bed and lay there until I had enough energy to do... well, anything. Sometimes it would lead to a nap. I ate next to nothing... not because I was restricting my calorie intake on purpose but because I just wasn't hungry... and when I was it took too much effort to go to the dining hall and get something to eat... hell, it took too much effort to grab something off the shelf or out of the freezer and prepare it... I just couldn't be bothered. None of this sounds all that bad right? (though if you know anything about depression you know that all the sleeping, lack of energy, and lack of apatite are some of the signs) That's because that's not the worst part of it. The worst part was the emptiness that came with it... Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be dead? I've experienced it and it's almost inexplicable... it is hollow, vacant, nonexistent... it is nothing. You won't understand it unless you've experienced it (and I pray to God that you never do)... it's just an all-consuming emptiness, one that you are fully aware. If you look you might notice it in someone’s eyes. I was SURE others couldn't help but notice it there, through the windows to my soul, and was surprised when no one did...

The second started sometime late spring of this last year (2007) and I think is more easily pictured. I came to a point where I just wasn't functional. I went to work and begged to be the one sent home early every day (keep in mind I only worked two eight hour days most of the summer) where I could be alone. I spent most of my free time laying in bed staring vacantly at the ceiling or the wall or hiding under my pillow, so close to the wall that I almost became one with it. Sometimes I went down stairs... can you guess what I did there? Yep, 90% of the time I lay on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, or at the side of the cabinet next to me, thinking nothing, feeling nothing except the hollow , experience of death while still alive (gosh I hope none of you experience that). I stopped communicating with friends and family unless it was absolutely necessary... I cut a lot... sometimes I burned (not my preferred method)... I dropped a required class knowing full well that I would have to take it some time... that dropping it would put me below the required credits I needed for my financial aid which meant that I would be on financial aid probation... I rarely attended the classes I had left, sometimes sleeping in my car (when it was warm) in the parking lot during a class and before work (this lead to two poor grades taking me below the required GPA for the term meaning I am also on academic probation this term)... I was suicidal many times during that approximate seven month period (the thought of what it would do to friends and family was sometimes the only thing that kept me around... sometimes I don't know why I stuck around as I wasn't even concerned for them any more, I just wanted it to end)... it was a dark place, a dark time...

So why did I share this with you all? Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. Part of me just wanted to describe it for SOMEONE. What I have found is that it is basically indescribable... that the words on this page do not do the experiences justice... that they barely come close to what actually happened, to what it actually felt like. Another part of me thinks that I wanted to give you a look into my experience. I would wager a guess that it is rather similar to that of others who have experienced a major depressive episode... maybe worse, maybe not as bad...

Any way I hope this was a learning experience for you...

Understanding Anothers Experience

This is actually something I wrote for my blog on myspace...
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I'm wondering... is it truly possible to fully understand another’s experience? I have, in the past, informed others that though they might have great knowledge of something I am experiencing they will never be able to TRUELY understand it until they have experienced it, not through their reading or the experience of others they have known, but through their own experience. This observation is followed closely by the hope that we never will share that experience...

What has brought me to this discussion today? Honestly? The need to be understood. Not to have my experience understood by others (for that is something that I believe cannot happen, not TRUELY). To have others believe me, in my experiences, even if they can not understand it themselves.

I saw my family this past week. No surprises there, after all, it was Thanksgiving just this past Thursday. To be honest... I dreaded it. Why? Family events are supposed to be enjoyable, and usually, for me, they are. However, recently I haven't wanted to be with anyone. I've been rather uncommunicative, to the point of neglecting my friends and family (even those hurting who I should be caring for). Neglecting my school work, my spiritual life, and other responsibilities (of which I have tried to have few this school year because I knew I would be worthless). Sound like depression to any of you? Who is surprised? I bet many that know me (assuming you didn't already know of my past struggles with depression) are pretty shocked. In the past (I've lived with this for many years folks) I have prided myself in my ability to hide it. To be able to take care of others and make them feel that everything is alright as far as I am concerned...even when I am empty...hurting. Don't feel bad. No worries. That was the idea.

But I digress...

It's never been this bad...never been... uncontrollable before. However recently, I've lost control of it...and it's taken control. And so... I do nothing, or as close to nothing as I can get.

Why am I telling you all this? The other day, my sister (who is the only one in my family that really knows about my depression, the meds I am taking, counseling, all that good stuff ) and I were talking about it. It came about during a discussion of grad school. See, I've decided to take a year off after I graduate. I can't do it now. I just can't. I can't study for the GRE, I can't do well on the GRE, and I can't get into grad school. And so I thought I might take time and hopefully get a handle on all this again (though at this point I'm not sure that's possible). When I told her my plans she told me I should drop some extracurricular so that I COULD study for the GRE and go to grad school in the fall. And so I told her. That I'm barely making it to my classes. That I RARELY get studying done for those I am taking now (only two). And that even my extracurricular (of which there are few) are suffering. Her response? She thought I was taking medication that was supposed to 'fix' that. What followed was a list of suggestions of things I could do to essentially pull myself up by my boot-straps and 'fix' this problem. She seemed to think she understood and that she knew how to fix it. Not only that but that I wasn't trying.

And she seemed to think she understood. I have a hard time believing that. Can you TRUELY understand my experience? Maybe you can come close... maybe you have lived with depression for just as long as I have... maybe you are trying to hide it from everyone as best you can. Maybe you SI... there are a million maybes here that could put you in a situation similar to mine... but it won't be MINE... and so I do not believe you will be able to fully understand my situation, my experience... what it is like to be ME. Is there anything wrong with that? No, I don't think so... not as long as you understand... that you will never FULLY understand...

Poems

Don't get me wrong, I don't fancy myself a poet... However, at times, when I am having trouble identifying or explaining how I am feeling I will write poetry (though I usually draw... maybe I'll share some of those with you one of these days... after all, you don't ACTUALLY know me so what is there to be embarrassed about, right )
So here they are:

For You
I'm dying on the inside, but you can't see
It's O.K.
This act is for you
Every smile
Every laugh
It kills me
But you
Thankfully, you are unaware

Oh, you may notice little differences
My eyes don't hold their sparkle
A smile dies easily on my lips
I do my best to protect you
But it's hard to care for others
When you are dying on the inside

I'll try another day
For you
I'll smileI
'll laugh
As I die just a little bit more

How Smiling can Hurt
It's funny how smiling can hurt
How that simple act can rip into your heart
How one smile can leave you hurting
And Bleeding

To smile
When you hurt on the inside
To laugh
When everything within you is crying out
In pain
And confusion
Is like a secret death
Slow
And painful
And hopeless

Normal

For most people Normal may not be all that exciting. For me, Normal is one of the most wondrous experiences one can have. Why am I so excited about Normal ? Because I have been experiencing it for over a week now and it's wonderful. See, Normal is not one of my regular companions. Out of Sorts, Lousy, Awful, and periodically something beyond Awful that is also beyond description, those have been my companions most of the time for much of my life.This Normal is not perfect. It has not been present 24/7. Out of Sorts was my companion the other day. He has been with me a bit today. But Normal has been with me much of the time as of late, wrapping me in it's warmth and amazing me at every turn.Do I sound strange to you yet? That's OK. Let me try and help you understand.Those companions I mentioned earlier, Out of Sorts, Lousy, Awful, and Beyond Awful have been with me for SO long that Normal can't be anything BUT wondrous. Out of Sorts, Lousy, Awful, and Beyond Awful are what I use to describe various degrees of depression as I experience it (not to be confused with out of sorts, lousy, and awful as used as everyday descriptors). These companions abide with me in a world enveloped in a Dysthymic Haze where I have existed most of the time in the past. This haze is very rarely broken, and when it is, is most often pierced by an episode of Major Depression that would drag me down to the bottom of a seemingly endless pit; a depression that would weigh me down making it almost impossible to climb back out onto the plateau I abide on . Very rarely this Dysthymic Haze is pierced by Normal . But in the past Normal has been a fickle friend, staying with me for one or two days at the most and leaving me wondering if it truly had appeared at all or was rather a sort of imaginary friend.My worry? That this Normal will soon be ripped from my hands and leave me only with those melancholy companions, Out of Sorts, Lousy, Awful, and Beyond Awful...and I wonder if this Normal is worth the disappointment and pain that I fear will come should Normal be stolen from me...