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Hi all. I realize I haven't blogged in a while. Mostly because I don't have much to say these days. Overall I'm feeling better than all those months ago because the Pdoc and I finally found a drug combination that works well with little side-effects.

I'm now taking Cymbalta, Abilify, Reboxetine, Lithium and Zyprexa (as needed). The latter because I recently had two (or three, I'm not sure because I was mentally fogged at the time) episodes of Psychosis, containing the whole deal of Delusions, Paranoia and Hallucinations. It was fun in a way and frightening in another but I'll write more about that on a future date. This is just a welcome back post. =)

I've made some lovely friends here at DU and wouldn't want to miss any of you.

As has become common for me, I'll add a poem at the end. I hope you like it as much as I do (and I love it).

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
William Butler Yeats, "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" (1899)

... was actually quite decent. I got out of bed late, went shopping for groceries, had a nice little breakfast, spent the next few hours watching tv-shows and chatting and finally went to the fitness center for a martial arts course I'm attending twice a week, from which I just returned (via a detour to a restaurant, of course).

Martial arts is a surprisingly fun and rewarding experience given that I was a bit anxious at first about meeting new people (I always am) and about my poor physical shape.
I guess I lucked out because the "new" people have proven to be friendly and because my physical shape is not detrimental to my training. Sure, it's exhausting and I need to catch a breath more often than others but I feel like I'm accomplishing something and it does get better as the weeks pass.

We're still doing pretty basic stuff in training and most of it seems designed to give us students a firm grip on easier things like punches and kicks before we proceed to more difficult techniques. It makes sense from a teaching perspective but it's somewhat boring when you're repeating the same easy things over and over. On the other hand the instructors bring enough variation both in style and in difficulty that it never gets dull even when I wish to learn more more more ...

An interesting effect training has on me is that during and after training my head is clear of both thoughts in general and doubts which seem to plague me all the time. Maybe it's because I can focus on physical activity during training and because thinking overly much would be detrimental to my performance. Whatever the reason, I do like the effect it has on my mental and emotional landscape. I find myself to be calmer and happier (or at least less unhappy) or in other words: less depressed and less anxious.

I'll add more to this later. Right now I just want to smoke and chill. cya

... and I find myself trapped between boredom and a lack of motivation to do anything. Video games don't hold my interest for more than a couple minutes until they turn dull and I return to staring at the screen, waiting for something.

Waiting for what though? For a miracle cure to everything that ails me or for some spark of genius thats going to revolutionize my mental landscape ... like a miracle cure.
Given that no miracle cure actually exists all that's left to do is to wait for meds and therapy to take effect and given that - while my meds are moderately well adjusted - I haven't found a therapist yet I'm stuck with ... this.

Inspiration comes slow today... the only thing that keeps me writing is the faint hope that I'll feel better once I get "it" off my chest. Or maybe there is nothing to get out anyway, maybe the simple act of sharing whatever I think up is enough to calm me down. I don't know, I'll need to perform some more testing ie. blog some more...

Maybe I'll add to this post when inspiration strikes later this night (if it does) but right now I need a smoke. cya

When I'm depressed, few feelings can get through the numbness that is everyday existence. Fear or anxiety and anger are two such things and in a way it's great to have something that can pierce my shell and get me to do things I otherwise wouldn't. Do things like write this blog or eat or take care of myself. Basic things everyone - but those of us plagued by depression - is able to perform without a thought.

The downside to this method of self-motivation is that there are some risks because both anger and fear can be more harmful than helpful if taken to the extreme. And then there's the eventuall 'crash' afterwards which is what I actually wanted to write about.

It seems like whatever I do, however I activate and motivate myself I inevitably find myself stuck in the same old pit of despair and self-loathing.

Is this it?

Is this cycle what I'm damned to repeat for all eternity or at least the rest of my life (whichever is over sooner)?

Right now I'm questioning everything again, my decisions, may ways, my past ... these thoughts lead nowhere yet I'm stuck with them no matter how often the course through my head. Actually I think these thoughts turn worse, or come easier the more often I think them. Like they are grinding my defenses down bit by bit ...

But if anger turns into despair and fear turns into self-loathing, what do despair and self-loathing turn into? What is there at the end of this colorfully challenged rainbow? Acceptance maybe? If so, acceptance of what? And on what terms?

It feels to me like I have to surrender to (something?.. maybe myself).

Idk. This is shaping up to be another blog post I'll abhor in the morning. My mind's not precisely clear this time of night.

And now I really do need a smoke. cya

Hi.

Looking back I don't really like my first post now, but as it was the only thing I could write over the last days I'll leave it where it is. Maybe I'll even post what I feel at a given moment more often. We'll see.

Today I want to post what should have been my first post. My mood as I'm writing this differs somewhat from when I wrote my first draft of this post so it may read a little bit whacky. The inherent message however is the same, so please bear with me.

Here goes:

I'm not going to share my story here, not because I do not want to but rather because it is nothing special considering the bigger picture and because it is not important to me. If you want to read a sad story pick up a book or a newspaper. There's many of us and more are joining the ranks every day.

My life has taught me that the world isn't fair and that people aren't nice. True, just as there are exceptions to every rule there are in fact some nice people out there and sometimes for some people everything turns out alright. Not for me though and not for too many others.

The things I've been through may define me but by and large I have the feeling that my life isn't defined by me. Then again, maybe it is and I just don't try hard enough. Free will is a topic for another day tho, today I just want to present how my life feels most of the time and I couldn't verbalize it better than someone else already did. I hope you enjoy a piece of poetry...

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

- Hamlet, act three, scene one; by William Shakespeare

To think that those words have been written 400 years ago boggles my mind sometimes and calms me at other times. Some days when I feel particularly disconnected from mankind, words like these remind me that others feel as I do. It doesn't even matter that Shakespeare died 400 years ago because to know that another human being can feel like I do is enough to make me feel a bit less anxious.

Music performs a similar task in my life and what I'm listening to always has to resonate with how I feel at a given moment. Somehow art calms my somewhat stormy emotional landscape but then again, maybe that's what it's supposed to do.

When I feel down and blue there are two songs that I particularly enjoy listening to. "Lonely Day" - by System of a Down and Limp Bizkit's cover of "Behind Blue Eyes" (youtube has good versions of either).

I'm listening to the latter song at the moment and am going to leave you with this piece of music. I need a smoke. cya