Music and humour are two of my most successful coping mechanisms. Combine them and you've got GOLD. Also, a friend of mine just im'ed me to say "I wonder what Batman's carbon footprint is?" Can I just say that I love my friends?
I'm doing a little bit better. My older little brother has been working, so I'm being left in peace. It's funny, my mom doesn't think she understands my mental illness (and she can, in fact, really stick her foot in it at times) but she's honestly the best when it comes to knowing how to deal with me. Maybe it's because she's not a very snuggly person, so she respects my periodic need for solitude. She also runs interference and gets people to leave me alone. She wants me to get out and do more, but she respects the fact that I know better than she does what I am capable of. If only she didn't think I was going to hell *sigh*.
My dad thinks my mental illness is just demonic attack. Just. I have a really skewed worldview I think. Anyways, I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but he does. If I had faith and didn't allow the demons in through my actions (reading fantasy novels, going to ren faires, summoning satan by listening to heavy metal, y'know) I wouldn't have these problems! Never mind the fact that I have had them my entire life and that when I was in second grade he was trying to have conversations about self-mutilation and suicide with me. Oy. Oh, yes, they were (and are) valid concerns. The only reason I've never cut is because I can't stand the sight of my own blood. Never stopped me from hurting myself in other ways, but that's why I have so few scars today. Yes, I started around second grade. You know, before I had been exposed to anything other than the wholesome science fiction my dad watched with me. Like Red Dwarf. Is that a hint of sarcasm we detect? Nawwwww, couldn't be!
It's funny, the things about me my dad doesn't like are the things he instilled in me. The fact that I can respect authority without trusting it. The fact that I question everything. The fact that I try not to judge people (which in fact has led me to excuse people far longer than I should have). The fact that I have friends from every walk of life and love them all. You know, like the friggin' Bible says to? I don't merely accept authority without question, because my dad taught me that was bad. But I'm still supposed to accept HIS authority without question.
I don't really have a lot to say. Well, that's not true, I have a lot to say, but this is turning rambly so
The hardest part of this crap is that when I'm depressed I doubt the validity of my problems. In the back of my head I just can't take myself seriously. When I don't feel I can do something (run an errand for example) because my anxiety and depression are too high, there's this nasty little voice in the back of my head that says "Really? Give me a fucking break, you're just playing things up so you can get out of something you don't want to do!". I am my own worst enemy. Nobody speaks as badly about me as I do.
The other thing that gets me is the paranoia. My brain creates entire conversations and scenarios that will NEVER happen, yet I react emotionally as if they have. When it happens while I'm awake I can shake it off to a certain degree, but when depression is in charge...It creeps into my dreams and creates such vivid nightmares (not the wake up sweating kind) that when I wake up I have to check to make sure they didn't happen. Why is this paranoia? Because it's ALWAYS betrayal by those I trust. TomandWendy? Yeah, regular appearances in my nightmares during these periods. It's always some lie my ex has told them that they have believed and now they want nothing to do with me. It's not just TomandWendy, that was just the most recent one. I dreamt an email exchange to that effect and had to log in the minute I woke up to make SURE it hadn't happened. When I'm awake it's easier to shake my head and go "STFU Brain! Fucking asshole..." But when I'm asleep...yeah...not so easy. There's a reason I am soooo tired lately. I want to be accomplishing stuff right now, but it's not happening so far.
My family is being remarkably tolerant of all of this. Though for some reason my mother's orange tabby has decided that he needs to make things all better by smothering me with love and his fluffy, fluffy, gets-everywhere-and-makes-you-cough fur. The minute I lay down I'm going to be smothered. I have to curl up and have a stuffed animal propped right in front of my face of BAM! orange cat and all his fur.
This post did not end up anything LIKE I was expecting. Oh well, neither has my life :). I'm thinking that's a good thing though. Because I pretty much always assumed I'd be dead by now.
Oh, and based on what I've said so far I should reiterate- I am not, nor have I ever been, suicidal. I don't know why. I just haven't.
I think I can sleep now. Hopefully. If I die before morning it's the damn cat's fault...but he's so cute and fluffy that you'll just have to forgive him...Awwww...he's sleeping. Doesn't look like an attempted murderer when he's purring in his sleep! Oh, he just yawned. The cute!
Oh yeah, it's definitely bed time. If you actually read this far...wow...Gold star! Also, hugs, kisses, and boob squishes!