Tag Archives: depression
I remember what it was like to run. I can smell the dust as it kicked up lightly on the path by the Dayton river. I can feel the sun on my face, and the beads of sweat falling down my cheeks. I can feel the cramping in my gut and how it felt to push through the discomfort. I wasn’t a runner with lithe limbs and a natural stride, and I didn’t always enjoy my runs, but I craved the release I would feel afterward.
I remember the hours I spent at the gym. Cardio for an hour, lift for an hour, abs and stretching for an additional 30 minutes. I knew I had a great workout if I felt like I was going to get sick, without actually getting sick.
I would arrive home from my workouts exhausted and hungry. I never wanted to take the time to cook so I quieted my stomach with cereal or yogurt. I was so wiped out I didn’t even want to shower and would fall fast asleep sometimes still in my workout gear. The grime and sweat stained my sheets so that even bleach couldn’t permeate it.
Being strong was who I was. My identity was shaped by how my physique appeared. ______________________________________________________________
I lie in bed and start to plan my day. I’ll use the TRX hanging from my door, jump on the elliptical and kick-start my day, or even take my bike out for a nice ride. Then I get up. As I stand I flinch from the pain and hastily find my orthopedic slip-ons so I can make my way around my apartment. Coffee. I must get coffee. Then my day of productivity can begin. I pull on some clothes avoiding the mirror, I don’t want to face the actuality of my form. I lace up my shoes and head out and feel rejuvenated by the sun and in awe that I now live so close to the ocean.
About 20 paces in I grimace. I struggle to maintain my gait and try to avoid letting a limp creep into my walk. I make it to my local coffee shop and am greeted with welcoming smiles and an acknowledgement that I’ll take my usual order. I feel good again. I exit and begin the block and a half walk back. The pain starts to become unbearable. I make it inside and collapse on my couch defeated. I feel the pain everywhere.
I leave my shades drawn and stay hidden away in my apartment. I dick around online. I play cheesy video games. I watch an inordinate amount of streaming videos. I feel like I should at least challenge my mind so I read. I pick an area in my 500 sq ft apartment and try to tidy it up. I make it 15 minutes before I become exhausted. I sleep.
Being in pain is who I am. My identity is shaped by what I cannot do. _____________________________________________________________
My surgery is in 8 days. This will be the 4th surgery on my left foot. It will also be my 1st surgery on my right. The complications on the left foot affected my gait so much it caused damage to my right foot. I’m trying to be optimistic but am anxious that it may make things worse.
My surgeon has already prepared me for a revision surgery after this one. He hopes this will work but if not he will go back in and cut more. I picked up my prescriptions. I have a new walking boot for the left foot and a spiffy new surgical shoe for the right. I even received a shiny new pair of crutches.
I’m trying to ready my apartment thinking of everything I might need while I’m laid up. I ended my relationship several months back and think to myself I should have held out longer just so he could’ve been here. I’m stubborn and I’m trying to do everything myself. I gave up a little freedom and asked for rides to/from the surgery. The nurse shamed me when I asked if I could drive myself to my post-op appointments so I gave up and asked for rides to those as well. I feel helpless and weak. So far from the person I used to be.
I don’t know who I am about to become. My identity waits patiently.
This photo is a kind of mind fuck for me. I was scrolling through my digital photos looking for landscapes when this caught my eye. I posted it on a few social sites without any commentary and was somewhat surprised that people liked it. Of course that makes sense – I mean look at where I am, its freaking stunning. But me in that moment? I was on the verge of tears. I was in the throes of my worst depression and I floated back and forth between being completely numb and experiencing the worst emotional pain I had ever felt. Looking at this photo it instantly takes me back to that place where instead of enjoying the beauty I was struggling not to throw myself into the ocean. I would guess that to most people this is just a pretty snapshot, but for me it’s a reminder of the worst pain I’ve experienced. Looking at it is odd because while I do feel a connection I also feel disassociated as if I am looking at someone else.
Hmmm. I don’t know if I’m expressing anything I wanted to say but fuck it. I’m not spending any more time analyzing my screwed up past, now I’m just trying to create my present.
peace, love, and good booze ~ chase
A few months ago I felt something I never thought I’d feel again – I felt like myself.
Over the past several years all of the drama I experienced stripped away the person I used to be. I didn’t recognize myself anymore and I didn’t know how to recreate myself into the person I wanted to become. For the first time in almost 5 years I felt like me again – the old me; the pre-foot drama, pre-5, pre-sociopathic ex, pre-embryo carrying me.
I smiled, I laughed, I hiked(!), I sailed, I drank good booze, I helped brew good booze, I ate crab, I ate a lot of chocolate, I hugged, I loved, I fell asleep in someone else’s arms. I still had moments where I faltered; I cried, I relived the past in my head and my heart. I had moments of despair and darkness where all I could do was lie in bed and sleep, but I continued to have more time occur in between these episodes that made me feel like I was me again – and that is nothing short of amazing.
This. I never thought I would see this again. Me smiling a true, unforced, authentic smile. Not just because someone was taking a picture, but because in that moment I was happy and that was something I truly believed I could never experience again.
Like most everyone I’d like to be in a continued state of happiness instead of just having moments. I’m not entirely sure what it will take for me to get there but I’m at least in a state of being (most days) where I can try to get there. Now I have to figure out what is in my control and change what I can to get closer to my goal.
If you aren’t evolving you’re dying and it’s time for me to continue my evolution of Chase.
peace, love, and good booze ~ chase
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” – George Bernard Shaw
I seem to constantly be recreating myself, but I haven’t needed it more than I do now. I’ve been having a difficult time with my identity; everything that used to be me is gone now and I haven’t figured out what to do next.
My life in fitness was drastically altered when I went through my stupid foot saga. My function is better than it was before and my chronic pain is much more manageable (thanks booze!) but I’ve lost the fitness side of myself. No longer am I the person who can run 5 miles because I’m stressed, or who works out at least 2 hours a day. Now I guess you could say I’m “normal”. Average weight, average build, and average American activity level – which doesn’t say much. So now I experience the joys of tight hamstrings, back pain, repetitive stress injury, a normal pulse (I was once tested, and re-tested in a physiology lab because my resting pulse was 37) and other average fitness stats. I miss being physically strong. I used to feel as if I could handle any physical challenge but now I get excited if I can stand for a few hours or can walk for more than a couple of minutes. I’ve tried numerous times to get my fitness identity back but I feel defeated. There is so much I can’t do, or so little that I can do without pain, that its difficult to remain positive. I keep trying, and will continue to try to remain as active as I can but I’ve accepted I’ll never physically be able to be that person again – and that sucks.
Almost two weeks ago I finally came to the realization that my ex is a sociopath. This has been helping me deal with certain facts about him but not necessarily my feelings surrounding everything that happened. I’m trying. That is all I can do. Try. I have tried to be social several times in the past few weeks and have only cried while I was out twice. Sadly that is actually progress. Crying is the main reason I had to stop going out. It was too hard and so many emotions would come up that I just couldn’t deal with so I just stopped going out all together. Going out now is a bit surreal. Some people know what happened and some don’t, but most of the ones that don’t know right away will eventually find out via this blog or through the gossip grapevine. It kind of sucks. That is one reason I feel like eventually I’ll have to leave the Bay Area, way too many people know my ex and have no idea what he is really like. Its frustrating, very frustrating. I’m trying to rebuild my life but I’ve found many people just don’t get it. They cannot understand why everything has been and still is difficult for me. Fuck man, I’m trying the best I can but I held everything in for so long I didn’t even start to deal with what happened until less than two months ago. People can really suck. I don’t want sympathy or even empathy, I just want people to stop telling me how I should feel. Oh and if you hate the fact I’m writing all this shit on my blog stop reading it. And if you think I’m an idiot for getting into this situation and then trying to cope in my own way stop talking to me. You are not my friend and I don’t need anymore assholes in my life. Seriously just fuck off. -end rant-
At this point I have to be happy with the progress I have made even if I’m still in the baby steps phase. I’m never going to be OK with what happened and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself but I’m learning to stay distracted enough that I don’t become a complete hermit. Besides my boobs are way too awesome to never leave the house again. If making boob jokes isn’t a sign of progress then I don’t know what is.
peace, love, and good booze ~ chase
Today is the 12th Annual National Survivors of Suicide Day which was created by U.S. Senate resolution in 1999 through the efforts of Sen. Harry Reid of Nevada, who lost his father to suicide. Suicide is a topic most people never want to discuss; its uncomfortable for many, and for others quite painful. If you have read my blog for any length of time then you are already aware I am a suicide survivor in the sense I have lost others to suicide, and survived my own attempts at taking my life. It took me 12 years after my last attempt to decide to be open about my experiences. I chose to publicly blog about everything after a close friend lost her mother to suicide. I didn’t decide to write to garner sympathy but instead to try to spread awareness about how suicide affects others lives.
Suicide is extremely difficult for most people to comprehend. If someone has never experienced severe, debilitating depression they can’t understand what kind of mental and physical pain leads someone to want to take their own life with no regard for others. When someone is at the point they are ready to kill themselves death is the only thing that can take away the pain. Despite the popularity of the song “Suicide is Painless” (the version below is by Lady & Bird) suicide is not painless for anyone involved. Those who commit suicide are in such pain they don’t know what to do, and those left behind then have to deal with the pain of loss and many times wondering what they could’ve done. Hopefully at some point those who have lost someone to suicide will find a way to heal and to understand why someone they loved decided to die on their own terms.
peace, love, and good booze ~ chase
People keep asking me questions I don’t have the answers to, or I don’t answer the way they want me to so they keep asking. I am so completely lost I just don’t know what to say to anyone anymore.
I will never be OK with what happened with TK. I will never be OK that I got pregnant and had an abortion because I let him convince me that was my only option. I will never be OK that I was so weak, that I knew what I was doing was wrong but I still didn’t run away. I will always regret everything about my relationship with TK, I knew from the first night we hung out he was not going to be good for me but I didn’t leave. All I did was make one bad decision after another and I allowed him to destroy what was left of my already broken self. These feelings of regret and self-hatred are never going to change because what I did is never going to be OK.
Today is Halloween which used to be one of my favorite holidays ever. I guess I could say it still is even though I have not celebrated it for the past several years. Right now with the TV off I can hear the echos of “trick or treat” outside in my apartments courtyard. *turns TV back on* I’m not dealing well with children these days so I’m staying inside where I can’t be seen sulking. I wrote a post outlining why I love Halloween in October of 2005 so here it is reposted:
Why Halloween is the best holiday ever:
1. You do not need to have any family on Halloween.
2. You do not need to have a significant other on Halloween.
3. You get to be what or whomever you want on Halloween.
4. You can eat candy with wild abandon and its OK on Halloween.
After I wrote the above I kept writing and rewriting the rest of my thoughts but my brain can only turn to the negative aspects of my life right now and it didn’t make any sense. I really don’t give a shit about Halloween or anything else right now. I keep trying to write about something other than how fucked up I feel but its so fake I can’t stand it. I’ve been reaching out trying to grasp onto something to make me want to live again but its useless. I can only fake it for so long and then it all comes crashing down on me every night. I’ve lost myself and I can’t be found this time. I’ve tried to keep this blog going thinking it would somehow help me but nothing can help me anymore. I died the day I aborted my child. Nothing will ever be able to fix what I’ve done.
So this is my life. It kinda sucks. Yes, things could be worse, but things could almost always be worse than they are. I’ve realized that my situation surrounding the abortion is never going to get better. Nothing can change what happened and nothing will ever make me be OK about it. I will always hate myself for what happened and for being so weak I allowed myself to be coerced into such a horrible decision. I will always be angry at TK for refusing to take responsibility and pressuring me to have an abortion. And I will always be angry at him for not keeping the promises he made if I had the abortion. I will always be in pain because of this. I will always be hurt. The damage done is irreversible. So what now? Now I just exist. I really don’t care about anything anymore. I keep making myself do things hoping it will spark some kind of life into me but all I’m doing is going through the motions. If I stay busy I can keep myself distracted but I will never escape the pain I feel. There will never be a day where I don’t see a kid, a pregnant woman, a pro-life ad, or anything else that reminds me of what I did.
Last night I started and didn’t complete at least 3 different entries. Looking back at them they are all quite pathetic really. Late at night and early in the morning I am at my worst, I’m not doing anything to distract myself so all I can do is think – and all I think about is the child I don’t have. I’m starting to realize the only way I am going to survive is by doing what TK did; pretend it never happened and stay constantly distracted so I can’t think about it. Its easier for men though, they weren’t the ones who were pregnant. Even though many men grieve the loss after an abortion they can never truly understand what it feels like. And someone like TK who never wanted the baby to begin with, well they really never get it, he is just relieved he doesn’t have to be held responsible for anything while I have to live with my actions.
What is making it so difficult for me is the fact that I didn’t want to have an abortion. When I found out I was pregnant I wanted the baby. I knew I couldn’t handle an abortion, I knew I didn’t want one, I knew as I sat in the clinic crying I should leave but I didn’t. I got on that table crying, shaking, being told by the nurses I needed to calm down so they could give me the anesthesia. It was horrible. It was traumatic. I don’t know why I didn’t leave. I let TK convince me if I did it everything would be OK, that he was going to take care of everything and make it better. I knew in my gut that was not going to happen. I knew I shouldn’t abort my child but I wanted to believe in the impossible. I wanted to believe that if I did it magically TK and I were going to have some kind of wonderful relationship. We didn’t have a relationship before I got pregnant, why would I think we could have one after? I longed for what I had never had – love, family, someone to be there for me. I knew if I kept the baby TK was going to shut me out so stupidly I did what he asked me to, I aborted my baby.