marsden_online: (Sisters)
Last night / this morning I had what I guess was an actual nightmare, considerably ... more icky than my standard nightly fare of angry-making or struggling-to-control dreams. Additionally for the past 2-3 weeks although my mood is OK several other markers have been in the red:
snip )
marsden_online: (loved)
This is something I wrote to someone who is finding everything too much at the moment. I have been asked to make it more widely available - if you feel it would help someone please feel free to share it. If that is the post, please use the Dreamwidth version. Link at bottom if you are reading this on LiveJournal.

I don't know you very well, we've maybe spoken a couple of times at parties and other than that only what I see on FB. But I'd like to share something I've learnt in times like these - we're /taught/ that it's a bad thing to be a "burden" but that's a lie. People will happily carry something (or someone) they see value in. Additionally the context always seems to consider the weight as if it all has to be borne by /one/ person. This is also false.

Sometimes we just have to accept little bits of ourselves being carried by different people as, when and how they can. And life is a complicated beast so sometimes individual people have to set down the responsibility or they (and we) have to let it pass to a different person.

And yes sometimes it feels that we are the only one left to carry our own weight with no hope of respite, and that can be a terrible, crushing, soul destroying feeling. But it is never, ever true. Sometimes we do drop pieces of ourselves along the trail, or cannibalise our ability to care about something to make it through another day. There is always hope. There is always another day. Someone will smile at us, even a stranger in the street, or comment on something we post and the weight will lift a little.

We all become a burden at some point in our lives. I believe it is just part of the human learning experience. When we come out the other side - granted not all do and every one of those is a loss worth grieving - we are better prepared and equipped to carry not only ourselves forward but others as well, strength permitting.

The comments on this post show you have a lot of people who see value in you, even if you don't, can't believe it right now. I certainly do even if all I have to offer are my words. They are willing to lift and carry you for a while. Trust them. Lie back and ride the crowd. Rest. Be well.

As a bonus here is a something else hopefully uplifting another of my friends shared.

marsden_online: (skull)
when everything goes just not quite right and you just start failing to cope.
Negativity dump )
marsden_online: (skull)
I had a particularly bad dream last night - I had come home form a mediocre party to find a bunch of my friends who hadn't been at the party having a drinkies at my place. Without having asked or told me and somehow having gained access without keys (unless my flatmate who had also been at aforementioned party had conspired with them - but he'd disappeared into his room).

Somehow this hit all my triggers simultaneous and I went psychopath. There was ordering out, there was assault on my friends, even when I had calmed enough to just be standing at the other end of the house screaming there was a friend who now felt so unsafe that they rammed another friend's car parked up the driveway behind their car out and across the road so they could leave.

There there was some limbo about what was going to happen next, then I woke up with nothing resolved. Losing my shit like that is one of the things I'm most scared of in my waking life and doing it in my sleep is no less unpleasant :(

My next dream was about a futuristic proof-of-concept shopping mall where you basically fastened yourself to the floor and it moved you to where you wanted to go. There was even a mechanism for making sure your kids remained within [x] distance of you. All the store fronts/racks were virtual, but real-enough that you could eg physically experience trying on a pair of shoes before purchasing "them" and having them sent to your home.

But if you tore down the virtual fa├žade the mall was infested with Aliens™ and some other brain-parasite aliens who were using it as a convenient source for hosts, and who were prepared to go to any lengths to stop people who discovered this from spreading the information, starting with a mob of layers using the fine-print in the contracts/disclaimers everyone who went in had to sign which forbid saying anything negative about the mall afterwards (yes this was set in the USA) to brainwashing to finally trying to kill customers (oddly by shooting lasers at them not by having Aliens™ tear them apart).

I can't remember how the dream ended, I think we got out of the mall but no-one believed us anyway.

I am sure I actually had a nicer dream later on, but I can't remember anything about that that one.


Feb. 5th, 2012 01:22 pm
marsden_online: (Sisters)

Storyline starts here
I don't know where my aversion to medications comes from. I have enough difficultly letting myself take common painkillers but face an actual dread of mind-altering substances including anti-depressants.

Some of the superficial stuff is easy to identify but not so easy to quantify.
- anti-depressants somehow means giving up. This isn't rational but it's really deeply rooted.
- not being "me" any more. But see below about losing myself anyway.
- perhaps more specifically "not being (able to be) the me that I want to be". This is a significant part of why I don't drink. I've been accused multiple times of "being afraid that I might have fun" but actually one of the things I'm afraid of is that my concept of "fun" will shift to include the stupid and obnoxious things I see intoxicated people doing. The others are that I will be an angry hurty drunk (aspects of my nature that I constantly override to be the person I want to be) and addiction - because I am susceptible and again I work hard to restrict my addictions to harmless activities.

There is an argument to be made that alcohol is actually a -more- serious mind-affecting substance than properly prescribed a-ds and the conceptual inversion of that relationship is actually simply ... cultural for lack of better term.

Over the past 12 months I've noticed that each time I crash and recover I've stopped caring about something. It might be something related to my work ethic. It might be something about how I relate to people. That's how I got the beard - after one crash I stopped caring about shaving. Fortunately I still care enough about a tidy appearance to trim.

It feels like my psyche is cannibalising tiny bits of itself to survive. This poses a problem because sooner or latter I'm going to stop caring about things that really matter (if I haven't already). Sooner or later I'm going to stop caring about being the person I want to be and just revert to being ... something else. Something/somebody that doesn't care.

I haven't been to the counsellor for a couple of months because Xmas, and he's been away. But it feels like somewhere in those couple of months I may have stopped caring about the pills so much. Maybe this year I'll try anti-depressants even though the thought make me want to break down. After all, what do I have to lose?
As an additionally poignant note the above comic was published on the first anniversary of my brother-in-law's suicide.
marsden_online: (Sisters)

A husband and wife and another man were the people killed in a motorcycle collision east of Christchurch yesterday afternoon.

Police named the three as Martyn Hartley, 48, Kaye Hartley, 35, and Nigel Hannington, 44, all from Christchurch.

That's Kaye who I used to go out with, whose wedding I attended earlier this year.

Shit shit shit shit.

Emotional crash immenent!!!!

The shower was running when I saw the article anyway, so I continued with that after calling my parents, and trying K&M's place just in case.

Waiting for tomorrows paper, which will probably have the death notice, before trying to hit the old workplace grapevine. I have very few contact details for anyone, but I know Kaye typically kept her work friends and family very separate and someone has to put the word out. The place is probably closed over the break and anyway a lot of people don't work there any more.

I keep catching myself thinking 'It could be another couple from Christchurch with exactly the same name and ages who ride a motorbike' and stopping myself.

I'm going to call another couple of people for the sake of making human contact, then hope there's something on TV.

Ahh, here we go - progressing from 'numb' to 'crying'

photo for those who think they may know the couple )

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