My juju’s gone

I’ve been trying to write for days now, with no avail. I’ve been collecting a series of drafts that somehow I just couldn’t finish, I wasn’t feeling them. Have you ever lost your writing-juju? Is there anything you can do to get it back? I lost it for a week, and I’m not even sure if I really got it back, this is my first attempt at it.

Things have been moving forward though. I took the problematic memories I got back together with my horrible dreams to Mr. Shrinky’s office. We’re taking it little by little, but I’m handling these issues in a much better way, I’m no longer on edge or triggered. Also, my spring break is here! I’ve got two weeks off of work. Not that I can use them to rest, I still have a shitload of work to be done, but as BF wisely put it, I’d still have to do it with or  without the break. We are going on a flash trip to one of Mexico’s most famous villages, San Miguel de Allende, I’ll probably post some pics from there.

But I still don’t feel my juju back, where have you gone my dear juju! The thing is, despite what my “about” page says, I try not to post on WP the first ramblings that cross my mind, that’s what FB is for isn’t it? (I do post some of the same ramblings, but only after I’ve dipped them in some logic) I can even think about a bunch of things I’d like to talk about, but can’t really manage to write them down. So I’m pretty much screwed.

What do you do when your writing juju leaves you alone? I don’t think I can take it anymore!

https://notallaboutcats.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/funny-pictures-cat-has-writers-block.jpg

 

The mother flu

I’ve come down with the flu. I saw it coming and took some vitamin C together with some anti-flu meds. It looked like I managed to dodge it, and the day I stopped taking any precautions, it hit me, and it’s pissed I tried to run from it. Good news is we have a long weekend ahead here in Mexico so I’m gonna get the chance to rest before I get back to dealing with screaming children. Kids (and me too) got to laugh at me today because the topic where seeing is ailments, and I usually act them out for them to guess, but when reached the land of  flu, runny nose, cough, and so on, there was no need for acting at all! 😆

I don’t really know what to talk about right now, it’s probably the headache. But I feel like writing, so I’m in a pickle. I’ve been thinking a lot about writing about my mom, I’ve been dancing around it ever since I wrote about my father. Maybe that’s what got me sick in the first place!

And that’s it really, I can’t really focus so I’m going to keep it short, though I’ll sure be back here on Sunday. It’s become a sort of ritual to write my demons out on the day that they haunt me most.

It’s just sad

Trigger warning: self-harm is dealt with in this post.

So I talked to Mr. Shrinky about cutting one session from my treatment. He wasn’t happy about it but he understood, and said something that made my heart clinch a bit, that went a more or less like this: “it’s just sad that your emotional part has to pay up for the mess your outer part has made”. This remark hurt me a little, but not because I thought the comment was hurtful in any way, because it’s true. I just don’t know how to take care of my emotional being. I feed and clothe myself, I can manage to get by society’s requirements in a not-so-dreadful kind of way, but I just don’t know what to do with my inner me.

She’s always been left to mend for herself, and when she just can’t handle the pain anymore and sends s.o.s. signals to the outside, that’s when I cut, I cut until the pain is balanced between the outside and the inside. Or sort of anyways. I did it again on Saturday night, my anxiety pain was just too much, I felt I couldn’t breathe, it was surprising I wasn’t fainting or something thanks to it. And it felt good because it was soothing in a way, caring for my wounds felt as close to caring for my inner me as I could get at that point. And little me has way too much on her shoulders to begin with, and now she indeed has to pay for outer me’s rampage.

It just dawned on me right now that I really haven’t talked much about all the stuff that got me here in the first place, I guess I’m taking baby steps into it. When I first started this blog all I knew was that I needed to write and be read, even by just a handful of people. Writing has always been an amazingly powerful therapy for me, no matter what the topic is, and so I blogged about Mexico’s elections, the #132 movement, and the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named.

But then one night I felt like sharing a little about me, and a little more in another post, and next thing I know elections are out the window and I’m sharing my inner demons for the world to see. It was something entirely new and exhilarating in a way…though it was and continues to be scary and threatening because I don’t know who might read this and if they’ll judge me, and because talking about me in any form has never come easy for me.

So far I couldn’t be more pleased with what I’ve gotten from blogging, most importantly the people I met through doing it. Empirically finding out you’re not alone and that there are people going through stuff you can relate to, well it helps a long way, so thank you for being there!

P.D.

I know I know, this post is all over the place, but these were things I needed to get of my chest.

Not me anymore

Today my long weekend ends. I really needed it, thank goodness for Mexican Revolution. However, I do have to go to work tomorrow. I do have to face a thesis seminar and I do have to face my tutor. It’s not a matter of wether or not I can take it, it’s is a matter of last chances. Tomorrow I have the obligation of not f*ucking up. As of this moment I feel sort of capable, I hope to continue feeling that tomorrow morning.

It’s just so hard getting out of bed in the morning. Once I manage to do that, it’s usually already a little bit late and I have to run, which makes me very anxious all day long. If I could only not feel sick, if I wasn’t sick, I know I’d have finished my thesis already, I know I’d enjoy my job, and I know I’d be on may way to graduate school. The worst part is having to lie about it, because no matter what people say, being severly depressed is frowned upon. And even though I don’t want to, even though I should know better, people’s view on my performance affect my own personal view of myself. I’ll  feel like an irresponsible whining baby because I can’t comply with what’s expected from me.

And when I stop being so hard on myself, still I can’t shake off the failure sensation. I can’t forget that I used to be the shining star of my undergraduate generation, the one everybody consulted before handing in papers, the pride of teachers, and a girl who had her act pretty much together ALL the time.

I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know where she went and I don’t know if she’s ever comming back. I sure do hope so because I miss her. I can only wonder how she managed to handle everything, not just her everyday stuff but also the garbage that keeps me a complete mess and forces me to be medicated and go to therapy three times a week.

There are flashes when I feel everything will get better, and periods of time when I do feel better, but even when that happens I can’t forget I’m not what I used to be, I don’t forget my utter failure in all of my goals, and I don’t forget there are still battles comming up ahead.

Damn, I’ve written a sad post again, and I’m not even feeling that sad. Come to think about it, maybe writing all this stuff helps me chanalize it instead of feeling it on my flesh. It has always been this way, except before I only wrote when pain was piercing me and now, sometimes I’m able to hit the keyboard at the first sign of a crisis, and I think it has helped me in reducing them. I wish this was all the therapy I needed, but until that’s the case (I do hope that’ll be the case someday), here’s a cat.

Sharing the good stuff

The lovely Attachment Girl from The Boundary Ninja Tales has nominated me for the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award. I was glad and surprised that such a talented bologger whom I admire so much would consider me for an award, so thank you so much AG!!!!

For the first two awards this blog got, received when it was still wearnig diappers, I was excited and very happy, but didn’t really know what to do with them besides sticking them on my home page. Now I know a little bit better, and in case I didn’t, this one comes with a set of instructions, which are as follow:

The Rules

1. The Nominee of the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award will display the logo on his/her post/page and/or sidebar.
 
2. Over a period of 1 week, the Nominee shall nominate a number of readers that he or she appreciates – this can be done at any rate during the week. It can be all on one day or a few on one day and a few on another day, as most convenient to the Nominee. – 

This is my list of Nominees, there are obviously some more readers whom I appreciate very much, I just based this list on people who have left over here comments I’ve particularly appreciated:

Buckwheat @ Buckwheatsrisk

Benjamin @ Expressions of my life

Melanie @ Deliberate Donkey

Purple Pineapple @  Purple Pineapple

Goldfish @ Fish of Gold

Aallegoric @ Always Allegoric

Inés @ Inesdelorange

3. The Nominee shall name his or her Wonderful Team Member Readership Award nominees on a post or on posts during the 7 day (1 week) period.

4.  The nominee shall answer the questions, all in the spirit of fun!

1) Why do you blog?
I’m not really sure, I guess it’s some kind of exorcism. I’ve always written, but have only recently gotten fond of sharing it. Letting my thoughts out, wether they are deep or an absolute waste of time and space, has somehow helped me deal with my personal issues, including my mental health. One thing’s for sure, I love it, I think it may even be a little adictive, but hey! who doesn’t need a healthy addiction right?

2) If you were trapped on a desert island, what book, DVD, food, cartoon character, and childhood game would you bring?

Book: Following AG’s example I won’t, because I can’t, choose just one, but five: First of all The Little Prince a book that gives a lot of meaning to my life (I even have a tattoo that proves it!). Second, The Sea Wall by Marguerite Duras; third, the very gem of my personal library, my very own William Shakespeare Complete Works; fourth, my Selected Works of Virginia Woolf; and fifth, a little reading from my field, Latin American Women: Historical Perspectives, an awesome book that helped me define what I want to do with my life.

DVD: The Lord of the Rings trilogy
Food: Sushi
Cartoon Character: Candy Candy (japanese anime for girls, good times! :))
Childhood Game: This one took me a lot of time and I simply can’t say, how sad is that!? Can it be a childhood book? lol. Let’s say yes, in which case I’ll say Harry Potter. I’m part of the lucky generation that went from the teen years to young adulthood reading Mrs. Rowling, and I would have given up absolutely any game to get a hold of my Harry Potter series 🙂

3) Share a funny joke or one-liner.
Gosh I’m might have to google one, I’m terrible with jokes!

4) What is your favorite thing about yourself?
Mmm, my Tetris skills? Either that or my ability of being an observer.
5) What one word best describes you?
Curious.

6) If you could have a lifetime supply of any candy/candy bar, what would it be?

Technically it’s not a candy but I say ice-cream counts. I choose Ben & Jerry’s Cherry García, yummie!

7) What fictional character do you relate to most?

This is a tricky one, but I guess I’d have to go with Marguerite from The Lover and The Sea WallThe autobiographic novels by Marguerite Duras made a profoun impact on me, for obvious reasons like the tragic relationship ( don’t really know how to call it, but problematic seems like an understatement) she and her mother have or her affair with a much older man, but also for the way she transmits the pain that comes from family trauma or being a victim of emotional abuse, of not being able to feel loved and important, of remaining always a runner up in people’s affections. Duras is absolutely and without a doubt my favorite author, and I would advise anyone who loves literature to read her, her other works like The War are also amazingly accurate in transmitting pain; there’s another short novel called L’Amante Anglaise which deals with a psychoanalitic approach to a puzzling bloody murder (which happens to be comitted on MY birthday! Yet another thing I can relate to, however strange it may be)… ok ok I’ll leave it here, but only because Duras deserves a whole post, which I’ll get to later on.


8) If you were to write the story of your life, what would you call it?

9 lives

Writing a thesis while being depressed, mission impossible?

If you read the title of this post and expect to find an answer for the question I presented, I’m sorry because I will disappoint you, I’m getting good at disappointing people. I haven’t excelled in writing my thesis, no matter what the high expectations everybody had on me, but once my dissertation was in the mix together with severe depression, that’s when I really lost sight of how to do what needed to be done to get where I wanted to go.  Some days I don’t even know why I keep trying. On the bright side, this is not happening every freaking day like it used to, now the really gloomy days appear to come less often than the grey ones. The bright, happy ones are still a gift I’ve yet to receive.

It’s funny I should be thinking of this issue today, writing about it, when I actually managed to get a lot of work done. Well, a lot compared to my other days, because it was nothing compared to what I used to produce when I was more functional. Maybe that’s just the point, I feel intellectually tired and ready to pop a movie and just relax, like I had an incredible amount of work finished, but the fact is when I looked at what I did, I felt completely miserable because of how little it seems, and it’s not difficult to go from there to self harm for me.

Today I had pretty strong thoughts of doing exactly that instead of going to therapy, fortunately it wasn’t like other occasions when I can’t think of anything else and I end up falling for what in that moment seems like the easy way out… in the end I dragged my ass to shrinky’s office. Maybe I’m not being completely straightforward, I was feeling miserable in the first place because I didn’t go to work. I have a deadline due on Friday and I knew there was no possible way to get my chapter finished and my pending stuff from work if I didn’t force my schedule a little bit (working as a teacher means you’ll always take a lot of work home). This makes me feel like a complete failure, like I’m failing all around my responsibilities, and well, that’s sort of the train of thoughts I was riding when I wanted to cut myself.

Shrinky told me some stuff that I didn’t want to hear and didn’t help much at that time, but now is making me feel a little better. He said I’m too hard on myself, verging on cruel, and that for me it’s always about being the best or being nothing at all. There’s no in-betweens, and when I dare to not be the best, my self-hatred is so strong that all I can think about is hurting me. He reminded me of everything I’ve dealt with in this past month and how it’s perfectly natural if I can’t meet my deadline…still feels like I’m an utter failure, but it’s helping me get a hold of myself.

Back to what I was talking about before I started rambling, I guess I’m just wondering out loud how I can deal with these two things that are eating me up. One is my Frankenthesis (a term coined during T, because my own creation is turning against me), and the other is my depression. Somehow, they’ve become bff’s, allies in putting me down and keeping me from moving on. And don’t get me wrong, I know I am doing just that, except that it’s not at the pace I’d like to, not at the pace everyone expected from me. Generally speaking, I am better than I was months ago, it’s just I’d like to be free from these plummets and get on with my life!

So if you have any thoughts as to how I can deal with writing a thesis while being depressed, do let me know! Pretty please?

Related posts:

If you found this post by googling key words such as “dissertation depression”  or “I am afraid of my dissertation”, these readings might help (thanks to @carmenmccain for bringing them to my attention):

This is (not) a happy post

Someone told me the other day that I have a good, though somewhat sad, blog. I made the point that I thought my blog was at least sometimes a little bit funny; the answer was: “yeah, if by funny you mean having a dark twisted humor”.

Now, since this person happened to be my BF, and since I sort of value his opinion more than that from the rest of  humankind, I’m determined to writing at least one happy post every once in a while…well, maybe once every other ice age.

That being said, my Monday started in a very sh*tty way. I didn’t have my morning coffee, I messed up at work first thing in the morning, and I had an absolute lack of energy despite having agreed yesterday to a painful and dangerous torture that promised to give me more energy (also know as a B-vitamin injection). My day didn’t look to good, I was already swearing and feeling very depressed, and it wasn’t even 10 am!

Still, right now I’m feeling better and my afternoon has the unique opportunity of picking me up. I’m gonna eat with BF, have an afternoon coffee, and rant away in therapy, after which maybe I’ll feel up for preparing my stuff  for tomorrow and avoiding being in a hurry in the morning.

This is as happy as I can get right now, but I promise I’ll try not to always be so dark and twisted, though I must say it sounds far more interesting than being a happy-go-lucky girl (or maybe I’m just saying this because I don’t know how to be a little carefree?).

I hope you enjoy the rest of your Monday!

Writing also helps

I feel like I’m on the verge of breaking down again, and I’m not sure I know how to stop it. All day long I’ve been feeling empty, robot-like, and now the tremblings are starting, together with the ache right in the middle of my chest. But I know it’s not gonna happen today, today I’m just gonna lay down and I’m even gonna fight it.

The strange thing is I had been feeling ok. Halloween at school was fun for the kids and I even dressed up, makeup and everything, like a black cat, something I hadn’t done in years. All I can think of is that stepping out of the routine, as much as I hate to admit it, got to me yet again.  And it’s not like I like my routine, I pretty much f*cking hate it, however it does give me some structure, something to hold on to, in the middle of my chaotic life. A demanding job from 7:30 to 3:30 is the last thing I wish for me, but I do have to admit that it’s the part of my day that puts my feet on the ground, most of the time everything else is just spinning around and I have absolutely no power to stop it.

Something different this time is that I don’t want it to get to me. Who knows… my little experiment of writing about it is surprisingly already helping me feel better.

Me, myself and I

3 in the morning.

Body: I need to pee. I need to pee NOW.

3:10 am, post-peeing.

Right hemisphere: Writy write write…writy write write.

Left hemisphere: But it’s almost 3 am and you have to get up early, if you start writing right now, you’ll be tired and sleepy in the morning.

RH: Don’t care. Writy write write, writy write write!

LH: Ok, we have to get up at 5:30 anyways, so I’ll get up, put on a pot of coffee, write for an hour, and I’ll just have an early start today.

Body: BTW, I’m hungry! Feed me now!

3:30 am, post-feeding.

LH: Ok, laptop’s all yours RH, go ahead.

3:40 am, post-minor writing.

Body: I’m sleeeepy! Let’s go back to sleep now!

LH: Sorry RH, we really have got to go back to bed.

4:30 am, post-minor sleeping.

Body: Can’t sleep anymore, think we should listen to RH!

LH: No way, I’m not gonna listen to you two irresponsible dumbasses anymore, we’re going back to sleep!

RH and Body: Not gonna happen dude!

LH: The hell it’s gonna happen, we’ll just lay here in bed until we get sleepy. We’re not writing any more!

5:30 am.

Body: I’m sooo tired, what a terrible night, let’s sleep until 6:00 just for today, pleeease!

LH: Ok, just this once, but we have to get up at 6 sharp and hurry up.

RH and B: Will do, promise!

6:37 am

LH: Damn it! I’m late, I’m super late! Can’t be late for work again!

——–

In the end, we made it, minus coffee or makeup that is. Let’s hope for a better understanding tonight!

Cat Therapy

5 kitties just arrived! They couldn’t have come at a worst time, when my tutor is absolutely furious at me and I have a sh*tload of work to get done both on my thesis and at my job, but man are they beautiful!

I’ve raised quite some orphan litters, and now apparently my fame precedes me because from the last 5 or 6 litters, most of them have come from people who come and ask me to take them in…sometimes folks who don’t even make the title of acquaintances. And although I’m terribly busy and still somewhat depressed, I just don’t have it in me to say no to any kitty who needs love and nurturing, so I now have yet another thing to do.

Besides, I think taking care of them might end up being just what I need right now to get me out of my dark little self-absorption; truth is, raising kitties is one of the most rewarding things for me in the world, and it certainly is a small tragedy when I have to let them go, I don’t know how many more litters my heart can take…

I still haven’t taken a picture of them, but here’s one of my previous litter, my Napitos.Image

Stray Bullet

I’ve managed to do it again. Self sabotage is apparently something I can never get enough of. I was supposed to meet my tutor today to show her my progress on the chapter I’m currently working in. The meeting was just an hour after I leave work so I had to run to get there…just to tell her I had left at home the above mentioned progress (not that it was anything to be proud of in the first place). At first I hoped it wouldn’t matter all that much since we had to get into the corrections I thought she was going to give me from the last chapter I handed in…but it turns out she’s only going to give me those after I hand everything in. So basically the meeting was pointless and I could see she was mad, and she had every reason to be so. Come to think about it, a lot of people have good reasons to be mad art me…including me.

I just don’t know what to do with myself… and all I feel like doing is listening to Manu Chao, maybe he can make things a little bit better tonight.

The lyrics on this song go more or less like this:

My life… little light with no candle

My blood from the wound

Don’t make me suffer anymore

My life…stray bullet

Through the highway

Slum puddle

I don’t want you to go

I don’t want you to move away

Every day a little more

My life…little light with no candle

My life…dark water puddle

Soap bubble

My last refuge

My last hope

I don’t want you to move further away each day

My life… little light with no candle

My blood from the wound

My life

Don’t make me suffer no more

Up against myself

So I skipped my job today. Second time this month. So much for my functional adult being in charge… After a huge fight last night, I simply didn’t wake up on time. So much for my 5 (I swear, 5) morning alarms…

The only thing worse than being absolutely pissed at someone is to be terribly pissed at yourself. And since I can’t scream to myself, I’ll try to make the most out of the unexpected time I have. I’ll work on the chapter that’s due on November, finish my lesson plan for next week, and if I manage to be in a better mood, maybe even read my Proust.

Right now there’s a big argument going on inside my head. There’s my nerdy self feeling like the world’s about to end over the fact that I’m probably a complete failure at my job and I should probably just quit it to stop pretending I’m not. On the other side of the ring there’s my cynical self thinking stuff like: they’ll probably just deduct this day from my paycheck and that’s it, the worse thing that could happen is me loosing my job, in which case I’d just have to find another one; but they won’t dismiss me ’cause, where are they going to find another not entirely sucky teacher in the middle of October? If I could only pick a side and stay there, but I guess that’s impossible when both sides of the argument come from within you…

This feeling of being torn into 2 completely different different personalities has been growing stronger since I consciously acknowledged it some weeks ago. It has become so obvious that I don’t know how could I not recognize it sooner. There’s one side of me that builds, prepares for the rainy days, exercises, reads, is a straight A student; this side is also the one that can’t take no for an answer, the one that obsesses, that prefers to be alone and avoids being in social situations as much as possible. The other side is a destroyer, it goes about tearing apart what the other side builds, the one that smokes and curses and hates exercising, the one that avoids doing what has to be done until the very last possible moment (wich means an absolute torture to the other side), and sometimes it’s even successful in its task of not meeting deadlines. But this is also the side that knows how to have fun, to relax, that’s funny, extroverted, lets things go and remembers to have a chocolate every now and then.

So it’s not as easy as having a dark and a bright side, it’s more like having two people with their own dark and bright spots fighting each other for survival inside a single body, a single brain, and a single identity. It’s like watching a tennis match and wanting both opponents to win… no matter what the result is, you know you won’t be satisfied.

In the meantime, I’ll set a sixth alarm for tomorrow.

Avoidance mode: off

Gosh, some dark stuff I wrote about last time! The good thing is I can always fall back on the bigger picture to have some sense of calm and feel a little better… oh, wait… except for the ongoing drug-war, the devastating economic crisis, and why not? Mexico’s demoralizing political reality. And while it’s easy for me to get my system jammed in the pessimistic mode, I also find it relatively common to find reasons to have a good laugh about things, though apparently that ability decided to take a hike for the past few days and it’s just timidly starting to return.

For the past couple of months I’ve been avoiding the fact that my country’s reality pretty much sucks, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get any better any time soon. Well, apparently my avoidance is over,  just in time for my conscience to fully appreciate the pathetic show us mexicans will receive on December 1st, when the legally, though not legitimately, elected president takes office. Just in time to watch the government announce they have killed the second most important drug lord…only to have to add that they “lost” the body, and the list can go on. That’s why it’s pretty darn important for that acid humor to come back soon if I’m to bear stuff like the European Union winning the Nobel Peace Prize!

Just to show you what I mean, on the left there’s the avoidance face I’ve been carrying around for the last months, and on the right there’s the face I intend to put on from now on.

I cut myself, I want you to love me

I don’t remember when was the first time I hurt myself, but I know I started doing in on a regular basis as a teenager, after a couple of harsh isolated episodes when I was around 12 or 13. I don’t know if I enjoyed being in pain, I just remember I was desperate for attention, but my efforts were always futile, so it turned into my own little private ritual to take out all of my anger on me. Yes, it sounds dumb. To take out on yourself the anger caused by the abuse donde to you in the first place. But when you feel your blood boiling with anger inside your veins and you know the blade will make it stop, sometimes you just don’t stop to think about the pros and cons of it.

However, cutting makes it better only for a very short time, and after that it makes it worse. The anger certainly stops, but as time goes by and I realize how pointless and stupid my actions are, I start to fall into a depression that’s almost handicapping at times, and its a fight uphill to be able to feel functional again.

The difference this time around is that I’m talking about it (not without some pressure from Mr. Shrinky). I told my partner, which was pretty hard, and I guess know I’m letting it out into the world, something I probably wouldn’t have done without meeting such brave and amazing people and their blogs here at WP. And now that I’ve done it, that I’ve shared it, it actually feels just a little bit better, almost as if I were exorcising at least one of my demons. If I could only not feel that kind of anger again… all that seems to help right know, besides this, is Proust, so I’ll leave this little piece of me right here and continue my reading.