drowsy, oh my!

Written on June 25, 2009 by we don't know who. 0 Comments

i guess things are moving a little. this entry won’t be well-written. i think we are finally getting under the cloud cover, the anxiety blanket. diving into a well. today i feel like i’m trying to move through a layer of cotton. i keep making ridiculous typos. if only i were the type that could sleep when i get like this.

anyway. parting the cloud blanket was very tangible. like pulling apart the cotton padding stuff that is in some blankets. hard to describe. underneath, blackness. poking head through and falling headlong into the black. way down, down a well, there is a girl cramped in a cage. her pain and fatigue and shakiness hitting hard. it is going to hurt like HELL when they let her out of there. ever been in a weird position for a really long time and then tried to move? are we going to die down here? i know i’m not making sense. but that’s actually really good, it was really hard for me to reach this point. REALLY hard.

we knew a blacksmith. his name was … dammit i can’t say it, but it was kind of creepy.

at least we finally fucking know something. just one thing.

and we are in pain.

and in the end

Written on June 20, 2009 by matt. 1 Comment

i had a talk with edges last night about how i’m not real – my pain is not real – and yes i know i shouldn’t compare myself to others, but it’s so eminently human to do so. and it was funny. because i say it never prevents me from doing anything, but yesterday i spent half the day in bed, didn’t leave the apartment, didn’t clean anything, and tried to do some filing and got about three things in before i quit. but – i don’t know – there’s always so many reasons why i don’t count.

we’re scared, i think. we’re scared that there’s something real that we won’t be able to fix. we’re scared that there’s nothing. i guess we need to just keep keeping on. some of us do try not to judge and not to compare. that’s why we ever say anything at all. oh, the middle way never has the same satisfaction of an extreme. our mom held us in such contempt for going to extremes – and yes, it was something we used to do a lot and still struggle with at times. i think that’s one of the reasons that taoism calls to us so much. but like everything she hated about us, she had it so much more.

i’m trying to remind myself it’s better to write short entries than none at all. we keep getting nowhere in therapy, and canceling our thursday appointment so that we only go on tuesdays. because it’s hard enough to sit through tuesdays. this slippery insider keeps nudging us away from thinking or processing – she’ll put songs in our head if nothing else. and lately it hurts so badly when we’re not distracting. like trying to be absolutely still when full of caffeine, or something. we just have to get away. but we’re trying for five minutes at a time.

i hate how much paperwork there is in getting government assistance. and it falls to those of us who might have trouble doing paperwork. it’s scary to even mention, it’s so overwhelming.

my fake pain

Written on June 19, 2009 by matt. 2 Comments

we’re supposed to try sitting in front of our journal for five minutes once or twice a day, for therapy. ugh. it shouldn’t be that hard.

i am hurting so much this morning. i feel like it will never get better because i didn’t make a strong enough case to the doctor. i have the stupidest thoughts in my head.

i think a lot about disability and how good i have it. i must, right? because i always can do things. i almost always take the stairs, at home and especially at therapy, and they’re both on the fourth floor. i walk everywhere.

anyway, i’m just hurting because i couldn’t sleep. i hate waking up too early. this morning i woke up at a quarter to six. and i could pretend to act like i was going to get more sleep and try for it but it was a lie. finally i realized the distraction of getting up might be better than the illusion of more sleep. though it does hurt even more to sit up.

and i do have good days. it doesn’t hurt all the time. i do not want to be a malingerer. not that i necessarily believe in them, for anyone but myself. but see, i know people who have to deal with actual pain, and i know theirs is real because it prevents them from doing things. my bad headaches are disabling, i’ll grant. but when my body hurts i just push on. if it were really bad i wouldn’t be able to.

i know this is all fallacious but what the fuck ever. it’s how we are feeling and what we are thinking about. i’m too tired to be reasonable.

not really

Written on June 11, 2009 by matt. 1 Comment

i always feel for a moment after i read a book, especially some books, that i could write an entry. nothing wonderful, but something at least fluent. my fingers dry up too soon, though, dull like my throat is hoarse. i’m not as good with words these days. of course i’m indulging something right now, and talking silly, but i’m still not saying anything. there is never anything to say.

dull and tight. i want to be real. but everything loses meaning when it is written or spoken. i have used up my words so many times that i’ve already said these tired things about using up my words.

i went to the doctor today, which was terrifying. i had to go alone, because everyone else has their own stuff. well, someone would have gone with me – i shouldn’t be ungrateful. it was kind to offer. but with people i don’t know well, i can sometimes have worse social anxiety than being alone. i talked about how it hurts and i felt like such a stupid, worthless faker. so worthless. so worthless. i hate to think of it, my blood goes hot and my hands start to shake and sweat. just embarrassed, i guess. that is not the kind of thing you bother doctors about. it was especially tough to do so alone. he’s raising my testosterone though, so who knows? i might get facial hair one of these years.

everything is all wrong. i’m anxious all the time. i’m writing because i really can’t deal with going to group tonight, but i really should, so i’m trying to pass the time until i have to go. it’s not working. it never works.

i’m discouraged and i hate myself but it’s the kind where i can’t even seem to open my mouth. the terrible, tight control will not let go, though i don’t maintain it. a voice whispers that i wouldn’t be writing this entry if that were true. whatever.

there is no help and while i am very understanding of everyone individually, some of us feel resentful at them all, impersonally. awfully convenient that it always works out so nobody can help. which isn’t true, of course, but nobody is ever fair in their hurt.

i wanted to say just, not fair, but it was too ambiguous.

i can’t open my mouth, not really, not even to myself. i am worn out, too worn out to speak, especially in explanation or defense of myself. this entry is like pulling teeth.

i have to be very self-sufficient these days. i’m trying to learn. it would be so wonderful if i only had to depend on myself to get things done. i am less flaky than anyone i know, except aeron. but it is rough going. and something in it whispers alone forever in an insidious, irresistable voice.

kids tell it like it is

Written on May 29, 2009 by cynthia. 0 Comments

so life is weird lately. i don’t know. something is off. i know something is always off, but that doesn’t make it not worth thinking about. we don’t have a huge lot of understanding right now though about it. one thing is the hectic pace we’ve been distracting at. like we can’t even stop and it hurts when we do and we don’t understand why exactly. and it’s getting worse in some ways because even the things we do have to distract like the computer games we have and stuff aren’t enough. everything is boring but we don’t have energy for anything that wouldn’t be boring. it’s a beautiful day outside we should go somewhere. but it’s so scary and hard.

one thing we’ve been pretty good about is stretching – that is kind of fun because i can now put my fingers flat on the floor with my legs straight. not my whole palm but my whole fingers (not thumb). 

the bigs have been pretty good lately about listening to us kids – not just listening but really kind of putting us in charge because we know a lot more than them about what is going to be ok to do and stuff. that’s like the only thing we have going for us right now. and we can’t deal with being around people but we get tired of being alone. everything just feels kinda flat or broken. and our leg is shaking this morning and won’t stop – lots of physical symptoms of anxiety lately.

i know this isn’t a very good entry but tough shit i’m 11. and it’s not like we’re just overflowing with the ability to write lately. i’m just trying to think of things and jot them down. i dunno if that will do us or anyone any good, but whatever. i’m writing this in between logic puzzles and small bits of cleaning. we never have much attention span, in a way – we really do have to be multi-tasking a lot of the time. probably that makes the journal entries even more disjointed. i honestly don’t care. we’ve lost the knack of journaling anyway. like we’re too scared or something, we can’t write well because we don’t let ourselves write poorly. you know what i mean?

one of the things that goes with how we always have to distract is how we get songs stuck in our head really bad. right now it’s emily’s song from despite our differences – the one that is about running away. there’s always some haha meaning we can get out of the lyrics but i also think that they really aren’t THAT significant. there’s just always some lyrics running through.

we got a printer. it is nice to have one again. we went without a long time but every once in a while there is just something that needs to be printed. we don’t like having to depend on other people to get that done. 

we really can’t wait until the sims 3. we want it so much we are scared something will go wrong. we have it pre-ordered to get here on the release date, but what if there’s a shipping or billing problem? and we got more ram but what if that’s not enough? what if it doesn’t run? our computer just meets the minimum specs, except now on the ram. (we upgraded from 1GB to 3. aw, yeah. we haven’t noticed any performance differences though even in games.)

there’s a lot making us anxious but now it’s making me anxious to write so i’m going to stop.

ain’t it heavy

Written on May 26, 2009 by littles. 1 Comment

it will never be enough it will never be enough it will never beenough it will never be enough no it will never work it will never get there we will never get there it will never be enough give up now run away now it will never be enough it will never be enough it will never be enough it will never be enough you don’t understand it will NEVER be enough how are we going to deal with that how are we going to find anything in that how are we going to go anywhere it will never, ever, ever be enough it will never work we will never get there we will never succeed we will never prove ourselves there is nothing to prove it will never ever be enough please just stop please just stop please why are you looking here there’s no point it’s just this it’s just this it’s just not enough nothing will ever be enough it will never be enough stop looking at me stop looking like that stop looking like that! i am just telling you the truth i am just telling you what it is you don’t care i know you don’t care fine run run run it’s good it’s good but just don’t try don’t try don’t try don’t try because it will never, ever be enough.

seems like a whole lot of time

Written on May 21, 2009 by matt. 2 Comments

happy endings make me cry. and not in a good way (well – maybe. but not that kind of good.) not in a sentimental, mushy sweet resolution-based overflow of emotion. they make me cry with lack, with bitter and thwarted envy. catwings makes me cry every time when she says, “i will never never ever catch you, or cage you, or do anything do anything to you you don’t want me to do.”

i had two beers last night and got very philosophical with edges. (i almost wanted to call them by their twitter name. heh.) we were talking about our particular forms of social anxiety, and our mothers. there’s a basic, fascinating difference in expectations. edges tries to be brilliant, striking, impressive; and i try to be invisible. god, i spend so much energy trying to navigate my life without drawing any attention to myself at all. i can only aspire to zero. it’s like my depression. i have dysthymia, which is a constant low-grade depression, except mine has never really been low-grade. i’m just down, and i stay down. with exceptions, the best i can do is “okay”, is to lack active misery. even when i am feeling most right with the world, i wouldn’t say i was more than 6 on a scale from one to ten. actually, i see it as a scale from -100 to 100, and i think at best i reach 10.

i felt so deeply how much of a waste i am, or seem to myself to be. i am so lucky and blessed. i have a place to live where nobody can hurt me, i have enough to eat, i have fast access to the internet, i have time and space in which to recuperate. i have white male privilege, which privilege affords me my invisibility. (well, the male part is new, but the white and class/education stuff is what counts really.) and what do i do with any of it? i’m discontented constantly, forever. things are made easy for me, relatively speaking, but i don’t take anything easy. isn’t this a waste, at best a massive inefficiency? there are so many other intelligent and creative people, who need the basic support i have. i mean, my god, having section 8 is like winning the lottery. shouldn’t this incredible privilege and security go to someone who can make use of it? i invent trouble, everywhere. no matter how good thigs are, i feel like zero max. i am such a waste.

edges pointed out that i wanted someone with non-mentally-ill privilege to get what i have. huh. i don’t know. (i mean, everyone should have the basic support i have, of course.) 

i don’t know. it seems to me that i make all my trouble, and shouldn’t get sympathy for it. i can’t believe how good i have it, and i manage to feel like shit every day.

i don’t even know what led into this. i guess i’m just recapping the conversation. it would be good for me to see this politically. it would be good to say that everyone deserves a chance, broken and hurt people too. it just seems like such a waste. i was actually getting a little set to write an affirming entry, i think. like here is my situation and here’s how my internalized ableism affects me. and it shouldn’t or something. but even intellectually, it’s hard to see and feel that.

but what it comes down to is that i am useless. i can’t and don’t aspire to what edges does; i cannot be stunning. at best i can be overlooked. and that’s poor food to live on.

muffler

Written on May 16, 2009 by we don't know who. 1 Comment

there’s a strange silence. i’m sitting here, at home alone, fighting a headache. everything seems so quiet. i am halfway through a movie, but i need to give my head a break. it is so quiet. it feels like i could never make a noise that would crack the heavy, wet shell of dampening.  it’s some kind of solitude. echoing.

wishing to move

Written on May 13, 2009 by matt. 0 Comments

we’ve had a rough week. i’m trying to understand what’s happened. things have been so dark. my writing feels choppy and inadequate, so i don’t really know why i’m writing. i’m starting to feel for the first time in days.

monday i decided to see what it would be like to pretend i was a normal person to some degree, and just do thing after thing that i needed to do. even taking a shower right when i get up is something i normally don’t do these days. getting up is hard i guess, and we take a couple of hours to work up to it. (i guess it’s lucky we wake up so early, since a couple hours after seven is still only nine.) everything overwhelms us. anyway, we decided to be different on monday. woke up, stretched and did our silly lone pushup and barely-20 crunches, showered, shaved, got dressed immediately, ate breakfast, did the dishes, took out the recycling, did a chapter in the book we’ll be using for syntax in the fall – thinking that if we do all the homework problems in it, we’ll be in better shape – cleaned up a bit, went to the drugstore, i know that doesn’t sound like too much but we were whirling with it, weary, after we got a certain amount done it felt like nothing would be enough. our spirit somehow got crushed.

we had a fight with edges, i think in some ways it was the worst ever and i think the reason is that i was not my normal humble or penitent self. i think i can count on one hand the number of times someone has gotten angry at me and i’ve stayed angry at them. it was awful. i came to my senses later and realized i was a jerk, but even then i felt so flat. so bleak, torn down, numb. i tried going up to the roof and found out it’s locked (of course). we spent a few hours researching suicide methods on the web. bookmarked a couple of things. thought about hopping a bus but the method we were thinking of has survivors and that scares us. cut off our air a while – not all the way. we were fairly safe, tied the kind of knot that’s easy to undo, but honestly we didn’t care. when we get in a certain place we often go for self-harm methods that are potentially lethal. actually, that’s what happened with the last “suicide attempt” – we never expected to die. we opened veins in our wrists because we really wanted a lot of blood. or olivia did. there’s a beauty that happens with opening a vein that doesn’t happen with plain cutting.

actually, the feeling from reducing our air supply worked very well for a kind of self-injury. our face turned grey and our head throbbed and we felt heavy and dizzy.

ever since then we’ve been all trapped and black, not caring about anything in some way, wanting to die, trapped and trapped. there’s been this lethargy and this apathy, all streaky and dark like charcoal. like burnt. been trying to get by. aeron convinced us to visit him but it just made things worse. i thought it might help. it might have, if he didn’t rape nymph. whatever. i don’t care.

but i do care, and i think it’s finally starting to give a little. the shell. i don’t know. maybe it comes and goes… but at least there’s something. i feel like i want to cry and cry, and i haven’t felt that recently. grief is a boon.

i don’t know where i’m going or anything. something is so very wrong. i am so very hurt. am i so badly off because i tried so hard on monday? i don’t know what else to think. i’ve been trapped ever since.

i don’t know. this is stupid, too. i see that.

onenote dump – why not?

Written on May 3, 2009 by insiders. 0 Comments

this isn’t here for consumption. it’s for being included in the archive. so bite me.

something is wrong something is veryvery wrong nobody loves us anymore nobody loves us nobody will be there we are all alone forever we made them go and now we will never get to see them again we will never get to see them again we will never get to see them again we will never get to see them again, we will never get to see them again i want to die i want to die i want to die i don’t know what’s wrong what is wrong i don’t know i don’t know what’s wrong i don’t know why i am so crazy i don’t know what is wrong with me i know that i need to die and i hurt everyone and everyone hates me and nobody will ever love me again i don’t know what to do with myself i don’t know how to make it better i don’t know how to be productive i don’t know how to take care of myself i don’t know why i’m so sure that everybody hates me but they DO everybody hates me everybody hates me i hate me i hate me i am part of everybody i know that everybody hates me or doesn’t care. wants me to die. wants me to perish. i am so insignificant. i don’t know what to do with myselves today. what are we supposed to do with ourselves? i don’t want to live any more i don’t want to live ok? nothing is okay nothing will ever be okay i don’t do anything rigth and i don’t know what’s wrong with me. it is a nice day it is a nice spring everything is going for me, i have so much time and space, so why can’t i be ok? am i so ungrateful as that? so completely ungrateful? not being happy is an act of ingratitude. i don’t know anything i don’t know anything i want my mom i wish my mom would go away she is very near. we are so sad. kim’s girls, can it be? i feel like we must be faking it. we must be faking it because we just always thought they might have been abused because of their weird relationship with their father. they had to call him “sir”. i remember being so weirded out by that. but so i just kept that weirded out ness and i used them when i was trying to come up with something. no no no no no no no no no. 

we are so sad. why are we so sad? will anything come out of this? c* and r*. is it just more sad because it’s more real? k* and *. my mom was best friends with k* in some ways. she liked — too but k* and my mom had this intimacy, k* is the kind of straight woman that basically makes out with her friends. i don’t know why i should think anything about them. i mean didn’t my mom meet k* through the co-op? she met everyone through the co-op. isn’t that a pretty big coincidence that they were connected? i don’t know though if they did meet through the co-op. i don’t know anything. i don’t know anything. i’m just sad, and forever alone alone forever. alone forever forever alone. stupid stupid stupid. are we doing this to ourselves? i don’t care. i just want to die, that’s what i’ve always wanted.

what do we need?

  • to cry
  • breakfast (probably)
  • to feel productive and capable
  • to take it easy
  • to be defended

my parents didn’t defend me from elan. i know he is 8 years younger. but there was an environment where hitting me was ok. especially because he was 8 years younger. i didn’t have the power to make it stop, as i would if i were a parent. i don’t think it’s his fault or he did me wrong. he was 2, 3, 4. only sue ever stopped it. mom and dad would both say “elan, stop hitting your sister.” but he didn’t care what they said, and i don’t think either one of them followed it up. especially not dad. 

in the scale of things, it’s pretty small. but it was part of the environment.

 anyway.

 it hurts. i hurt.

 games we want:

  • eden
  • loco roco

 lonedly

 what do you want?

what are we doing what are we doing?

  • we still need to eat
  • i don’t know i don’t know
  • we still want to die
  • we need to cry. we won’t and can’t but we NEED to. badly.