I WASN'T REALLY IN THE MOOD FOR POSTING TONIGHT but I have internet time so why not. I don't know exactly why but all weekend I have been so depressed and feeling like I'm drowning.
I once read a book by a psychologist called Kay Redfield Jamison who suffered from severe bipolar disorder. In the depths of her illness, before she settled into a routine of lithium-taking she suffered a double bout of depression (that is, a depression that lifted very briefly only to return just as devastatingly as before)... this went on for 18 months.
Even in the very depths of despair, despite wishing for death, she said she has never regretted being born. Well that's more than I've done. When I was depressed it was, I would say, because I knew I should not have been born. And have had life foisted on me. Something I never asked for. A responsibility. That was the great appeal of heroin, a drug that could kill me in my sleep. And yet death eludes me.
That was how I felt when I was most depressed. And the worst depression went on for about two years. The psychiatrists I saw were useless. The counsellor I saw I suspected at the time and am pretty convinced now looked down on me for being too similar to how SHE had been before she sorted herself out. Only a dedicated GP who made for me weekly appointments made any difference.
When I was a bit nutty a couple of years ago I honestly started to believe I was immortal. Every conceivable method of suicide I was convinced would only end up in failure. I desperately wanted to detox so I would not die a junkie and spend all eternity in withdrawals.
According to a Muslim who was preaching outside the library last year, if you do commit suicide, whatever method you use you will repeatedly go through the motions of this through all eternity in hell yet never dying. For this reason I would most like to die injecting heroin.
I know I'm never going to die though. Especially not through heroin. The ONLY hope I have of dying is by taking my own life and as I said the more depressed I feel the more hopeless I am of ever succeeding with that. I watched the trains slicing along at 100mph Londonbound convinced that if I did venture in front it would only kick me out of the way like a football. And I'd bounce harmlessly into the bushes there to shiver eternally cold and damp in the morning dew.
I have been writing some of my book but it is very depressing. Writing a book is hardly the most difficult of life's tasks. Damns have been built. Bridges constructed. Undersea tunnels dug. Hundred storey skyscrapers erected in less time than this book seems to be taking and with a whole lot less fuss.
One thing I never expected (remember I'm the one so often accused of "thinking too much" yet my biggest flaw seems to be NOT thinking things through)... never expected from writing my book was that the pattern and flow of my own life would be held up close for me to puzzle over. I have never examined my own life's story in such detail before. Nor the way one consequence leads on to another.
It has been freezing cold this weekend here in London. Night temperatures have dropped to near freezing while yesterday was aparently only 4 degrees celcius.
I have been sleeping with the cooker hob on all night.
Baby Itchy roborovski escaped yesterday and was awol for a quarter of an hour until eventually she rambled blithely right into my waiting flytrap-style hands. She panicked bigstyle when I captured her and had a guilty look on her face. She has been banished to the teabox in disgrace.
Sorry for such a depressing post. I am not suicidal but I have to think about these things as I did at least twice attemptedly kill myself and must reason these events out. The first time I was so blitzed afterwards that I could not and did not even consider events. I just felt poisoned to the core of my being, because I had done a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tricyclic antidepressants. Most of the pills, as I've said, I sicked up so soon after swallowing they still had the coatings on them... The second time I woke up freezing cold in a bathful of clothes, planks of wood, housebricks etc etc having attempted to drown myself while unconscious. I woke into a hazy white space and at first, for one elated moment thought I really had managed it. Then the bleak chilly wetness impinged and I realized the white ethereal space in which I "floated" was merely my unfocused view of the bath's white side...
Well I had better go now.
On a more positive note I got a new mobile phone today for £15.
Take care everyone...
G
xx
Videos of the Day
Sugababes: Shape
Her Majesty the Queen's Tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales...
Robby the Entertaining Parrot's Bedtime Story...
***
Tagged on a "meme" thang!
Annie Bimbimbie from Queensland (Australia), whose name means "place of many birds" in a mysterious Aboriginal tongue ~ or to translate into my own kind of language "birdery" tagged me with this meme thing which is to explain my blogging name.
Well it is quite simple really.
Gledeber was the name of a dog we once had who looked like a seal.
Edward the Confessor was the last but one Saxon king in South England before William the Conkeror came over and defeated King Harrold.
My blog is quite confessional and I miss Gledeber to this day and hence the name "Gledwood"
The Vol 2 comes because originally my old blog was on another blog "hoster" thing. And not as good. Hence that was vol 1; this is vol 2...
And I tag:
Lime
Well, until God wants you, you ain't goin' nowhere: We need only look to that man whose mere existence defies all insurance actuarial tables: Mr. Keith Richards.
ReplyDeleteHaving said that, I think that doctor shopping is usually wrong, but in your case you need a really good physician to proscribe the right drug. I think you have gotten the wrong diagnosis so far--not that I know that much about it.
And the Muslim guy is full of it--though, for the purposes of argument, let's assume he is right--is Nelson Rockefeller, who died in flagrante delicto with his mistress, in heaven or hell? I guess that wasn't technically a suicide, unless his doctor told him to just lay there and get "reverse cowgirl" and he was deliberately flaunting doctor's orders. If it was a suicide, though, isn't he shagging his mistress for all eternity? I guess even that would get old after awhile, and just become some sort of weird Jean-Paul Sartre one-act play...
I think a Muslim Islamofascist would cover their ass with someone like bin Laden--who allegedly carries cyanide around with him at all times, and say, "Well, suicide in his case was dying in a jihad--so he goes straight to heaven and gets his 72 virgins..." Ditto suicide bombers--who have the word "suicide" right in their job description.
In any event, I hope we can take him alive, in bin Laden's case--since a caged rat in a prison cell doth not a "martyr" make.
Well, anyway now I am rambling off topic, so, "Peace out, Yo!!"
Bin Laden carries cyannide at all times?
ReplyDeleteDoesn't surprise me.
Did you know cyannide is meant to be blue? Or something. Cyan-cyanosis... cyannide... "thang"...
You are so very talented...don't ever give up on yourself....you've got a lot to offer the world...please keep trying to rid yourself of those demons!!! OK???
ReplyDeleteI'm throwing some positive waves your way....
Peace
Hi Gleds ~~ I am so sorry you have been feeling so down and
ReplyDeletehope you can turn it around.
There are too many good things around us and in our lives to
let it just pass us by. Your little pets need you and as I always think if I get down ~
"This too will pass". Better days ahead. Take great care my friend, Best wishes and Hugs, Merle.
What type of dog was your Gledeber?
ReplyDeletenice explanation of how your blog name came together *!*
My belief is that we've all chosen our lives. We are born, we pass on and we come back, we learn from each life. Sometimes it's not apparent why we are here or what we're supposed to do or learn, but it matters not. Make the best of it and keep going, you'll figure it out eventually. The journey is all that matters.
ReplyDeleteOdat: One of the ways of getting rid of such demons is to speak them out. Silence festers their power, I always think ...
ReplyDeleteMerle: thanks! ***Hugs*** back too !!! ;->...
Bimbimbie: Gledeber was really my stepmum Harriet's doggie. She was found wandering the streets all lonely as a woodsmokesmelling puppy... looked like a seal, was a mongrel, we supposed. Though the family dr. declared she could well be something called a "New Zealand barker" which is a small dog with a very big bark ~ so I hear! ;->...
Nicole: Sometimes things are so not aparent though they're a bloody mess! Know what I mean?
(I'm only speaking for myself...)
;->...
Glad you're happy Down Under at last ... Wahey!!!
ps i just googled "new zealand barker" and nothing came up but references to dogs and some cricket player called Barker hahaha!
ReplyDeleteI think this proves my theory that you only leave when it's your time to go. Luckily for us, it hasn't been your time.
ReplyDeleteI struggle with chronic depression and post traumatic stress disorder. I definitely understand what you mean when you talk about life having been foisted on you.
Glad you're still with us, Gleds.
For better or for worse!
ReplyDelete;->...
Hope writing about it has helped, Gleds. You are very honest and your story really does need to be told to the world because you could help so many people. You are NOT alone.
ReplyDeleteWhen you finish your book, I will buy a copy of it from the bookstore. Some things are worth the wait. :)
ReplyDelete