Archive for the Depression Category

The Only Time I Feel Alive

Posted in Depression on April 30, 2008 by delladrago

Well, you can tell that I’m very bad at updating these things on time.  I really need to get back into the habit of writing things. 

I’ve been in an extremely odd mood recently, as in the recent month and a half.  Adjusting to having an ACTUAL boyfriend (not just a friendly fuck) along with school, work and trying to edit the current manuscript was causing me a great deal of internal angst.  I’ve gotten around to figuring out the work/study/school/boyfriend/editing/exercising/free time into a more streamlined schedule.  I’m beginning to feel more like myself all over again.

So this week, starting Sunday the 27th, the boyfriend has been staying over here at my place.  We’re doing an experiment.  As he would say–“Put on your lab coats, there’s bits of science flying around”.  He’s staying here until this Friday (the 2nd) to see how we interact and react to each others presence near-constantly. 

That being said, it is not even close to being constant.  I have work, he has work, I have school, he has school.  We both have a social life and hobbies that do not involve each other (and some hobbies and outings that DO), so we do not see each other all the time.  Still, it is an interesting thing to be sleeping next to someone every night.

This morning I was having a little bit of a hard time though.  It is my general prerogative to wake up and take care of business, if you catch my drift.  Well, with another man-person around, taking care of business has been fairly hard to do.  This usually puts me into a pretty bad mood, even if I’m having semi-regular sexual gratification through the man-person in question.  There is something comforting and enjoying that I only get out of taking care of business on my own. 

So this morning I was very much wrapped up in the idea of the business, and I decided to try and pounce the man-person before he had to go to school and I had to go to work.  He was just in the mood to play however, so we wrestled for about half an hour, in which I was poked (VERY HARD) in the eye… with his fingers (it was an accident). 

I don’t know.  My immediate reaction to being hurt in any physical way is very deep emotional pain, mostly because of the horrible way that my mother treated me when I was a kid.  I know that he did not mean it, and that it was an accident, and that I should realize if I’m wrestling the boy-person then this is a risk I’m taking… getting accidentally hurt, that is.  Still I had this immediate reaction of wanting to hit him back, just as hard or harder, and when I suppressed that, all I wanted to do was cry, and I wanted him to go away.  It was about ten minutes before he did, and as soon as he was half way down the stairs I started to cry, and let it go pretty well when I heard the door lock.

My counselor and I are going through the whole, “Why are you so afraid to cry in front of other people?” psycho-bullshit.  I want to explain to her that every time I show vulnerability in front of people, it has been proven to me time and time again that those people look at me differently from then on.  They see me as some fragile fucking doll that needs protection. 

I want an actual relationship with the boyfriend.  I don’t want him feeling like he has to be careful not to break me or tip me off, but at the same time I do tip off really easily, and I’m extremely sensitive to the most idiotic things–like getting accidentally poked in the eye and denied my morning business

I took care of the business a few minutes ago, which is why I’m finally in the proper frame of mind.  I wish I could talk to my counselor about these problems when they are actually arising, instead of on a day that I’m generally in a good mood (payday).  It seems like I always forget to tell her the most important things.

When I got hurt there was a voice inside of me saying, “You think you can handle another round of change?  Do you really think that you are worthy or even ready to take on living with someone you barely know?  You really think you love him?  Give me a fucking break!”  Another part was crying inside, another part was just saying, “Calm down, calm down, you’re okay, just calm down until he leaves.” 

My counselor told me this last time I was there that she and another counselor were reviewing my tapes and they think that I have multiple-personality schizophrenia.  She says that because I was faced with so much trauma when I was young, parts of my personality and my mind split so that I could properly handle the pain without fully shutting down.  She says that it would take a lot of effort to make me whole again, and that there was little chance of success seeing as I’ve incorporated this into my everyday life in a way neither she or her collegue have ever seen.

I have to say that there is some glamour in saying these things, almost like I should be a subject of one of those touchy-feely films or a best-selling book or something.  It’s almost unbelievable that I could be those things if I had not already accepted it in a way. 

I’ve admitted to myself that my form of working things through and just going through life is different then other people describe their own journeys.  I have several representations of myself, and though I’ve never counted them, I know that there are a few.  I know that when I’m trying to decide something it is almost like holding a counsel, even when I’m just deciding on something as simple as groceries.  I know that there are some voices, or personalities or whatever, that go away for a long time and then come back unannounced, usually when they’re needed.  I know that the person that I am with my mother is different then the person I am with my boyfriend, which is different then the person I am with my father, which is different then the person I am with my uncle.

My counselor said it’s like being an actress, that I can take on many different personalities, traits, emotions without actually feeling them.  That it is not me that is feeling them, it is this other part of me, which explains why I’ve had this constant, almost complete feeling of detachment from the world and the people around me, even the people I love and care about.

But I always ask myself this question:  “Are you okay with who you are?  Would you change?  How would you change?  What would it affect?  Would it really be any better?”

I think for the purposes I’ve given myself in life, to be an artist and a writer, to be a musician, a student, and a professional woman, that this “disorder” is actually pretty handy.  I don’t want to change. 

But I also realize that there are limitations, like the incident this morning.  Despite knowing we were only playing around, a part of me wanted to reject the boyfriend for hurting me, a part that is still screaming now for his dismissal.

I don’t know how to talk about this with him, I don’t know if he’ll just turn tail and fucking run.  I can explain it exactly as I just have and he’ll probably tell me I need help.  I admit that I’m afraid of him rejecting me, of leaving me like so many countless people have.

If life has shown me anything, it is that you cannot trust anyone but yourself.  Everyone leaves you.

So can I live with him?  Maybe.  I know that I’m going to have to talk to him about the hard stuff and give him real-life demonstration and see how he reacts, or it will be like a cloudy shadow over our relationship that only I can see.  I don’t want to keep things from him, but at the same time I feel like he’s not ready to accept what, who, I really am.  He’s had a very normal life, and I’ve had a very abnormal life.  A lot of the time–I’d say 98% of the time–despite saying “I want something different!” people with a normal life want to continue that normal life.

So is this boyfriend, this man-person, part of the 2%? 

I guess I’m scared.  Another part of me is resolute.  I want to just get it over with and say, “Yeah, welcome to ME, all of me, love it or leave it.”  If he leaves it then, well, I’m just back where I started, and where I started from wasn’t all that bad.  Not bad at all.

I’m still scared.

-Della Drago-


Feel all right, but we’re not well.

Posted in Depression, Dreams, Family, Friends on March 3, 2008 by delladrago

I war with depression. 

Sometimes, on days after weeks of trials, I fight a large battle.  The battles are against the desire to scream, to rage, to strike upon myself or others for the ills that I feel deep inside of myself.  The battle is long and hard, because not only are there the initial triggers that get to me–family, friend, health problems, etc.–but then I attack myself for being so weak as to succumb to the hardship.  I tell myself that I ought to be able to handle “it” without breaking down, without nearly screaming, without sobbing into someones arms, without relying on ANYONE for help but myself.

I feel so alone here.  I have no friends to confide in, no family that really gives a damn, and a boyfriend that I am so afraid of chasing away that I feel the need to contain myself around him–not to show what a basket case I am.  I want to be loved and feel that I belong somewhere, and this is the closest I have come in a long time, just having someone to love again.  I am frightened because I’m beginning to care so much that I’m fearing eventual problems, problems that have not yet appeared on the horizon.

Daily, when I look around, I see the young people my age and ask myself what is wrong with me?  Why can’t I walk up and just say hello?  When someone starts to speak to me, my heart begins to pound, my palms get itchy, sweaty, and I cannot think of anything to say.  What can I say?  Sometimes I feel like walking up to complete strangers and screaming, “I was raped and molested by my stepfather for four years!  My mother hit me when I was a child, and manipulated me horribly!  I was homeless, where I was raped again!  My father is homeless, my sister blames me for it, I live with someone who cannot communicate and I have no friends that don’t want everything from me all the time.  How are you?”

I spent Thursday night, Friday and Saturday with the boyfriend.  On Saturday I met his friends, and I found the social anxiety settling in quite strongly.  They tried to get me to play the PlayStation game, Rock Band, but I did not comply.  It’s really not that I did not want to, I really did, it was just every time I seriously considered saying, “OK, put on this song and I’ll sing,” I could not speak past the pounding in my throat.  I smiled but barely laughed at jokes, and even though they occasionally asked me question, I could only bring about mono-syllable answers, and maybe two or three times a full sentence. 

The evening reminded me of how I’ll be pumped to go into a social atmosphere, and then when I’m there I freeze up.  It also reminded me that I have no social network, no friends that I can just relax and be around, share inside jokes with.  All of my friends were made in public school and I’ve outgrown all of them.  They’re stuck in KS, rotting, while I’m out in CA, trying to make something of my life.  It seems all the people I meet have ingrained social networks.

 The anxiety I feel speaking to someone has to do with being afraid of saying something wrong or stupid, of meeting someone I want to hang out with but they don’t want to be around me, or vice versa (and not being able to be rid of them).  I’m worried that eventually they’ll ask me for something I cannot give, or give something I really do not want to receive.  I desperately want to feel at home, to feel the comfort and affection that the company of like-minded humans often give me, only I’m afraid of the initial blunders.

I feel very comforted when I’m around certain family members; my father, my sister, my aunt and two uncles, the “friends of the family” family.  I felt at home with other people, but they have since left my life.  I have a friend from KS (Allan, previously mentioned) that I was very pumped to move out here, but now I’m second-guessing the idea, simply because I’m realizing that–aside from being friends–we have nothing in common.  He smokes (a lot of different things), is a complete consumer, has not even graduated high school and generally just enjoys playing video games.  I think that aside from video games and comic books, he and I have nothing in common.  We used to smoke together, slack off together, and generally be mischievous together, but times have changed.  I’m trying to further myself by going to school and trying to get my manuscript published, I’m extremely health conscious, I am quite thrifty and I like to stay as busy as possible.

One could even say I “enjoy work” so that it can distract me from the constant anxiety that tries to run around inside my head.

I don’t know (I find myself saying that a lot).  The anxiety I’ve been feeling today, that battle I’ve been fighting, is about the miniature break-down I had in front of the boyfriend last night when he dropped me off.  I wanted desperately to be comforted, held, while I cried, but at the same time I did not want to burden him with my own burdens.  The evening with his friends was enjoyable, but it reminded me of everything I’ve lost or I’ve never had.  It was like the straw that broke the camels back, piled on top of the issues with school, finding a publisher, living with my uncle, dealing with my mother and Allan, and the recent event of my father getting kicked out of his place.  This has all been within the last two weeks and has been quite taxing on my mental ability to cope with stress.  Seeing his friends, witnessing their group dynamic, just… it almost hurt to be around.  I was so intensely jealous of their ability to simply relax in each others company.

I’m just worried that I said too much to the boyfriend last night, that I “need” him for too much, and that this need is going to push him away from me.  I’m trying to be proactive in my approach towards finding friends or just some kind of social network (even on the Internet), simply so I can be less of a burden on the one person that I care very much about right now.  Love, even.  Love enough to not want to push him away.  I am afraid of burdening, of hurting, or of hindering the progress of this love. 

The boyfriend said something yesterday, earlier in the day, that has been bouncing itself around my brain since.  He said, “It is the mark of a good human that you assume that everyone you meet has had as hard or worse a life as you.” 

I don’t do that, I assume that they’ve had a better life, and I almost automatically hate them for it.  I have so many anger issues I have to work through before I can have friends.  I have so many issues I have to work through before I feel like I’m actually functioning with society, and not coexisting with it. 


I had another “Pregnancy” dream last night.  This would be the third.  The first was me bursting in on the boyfriend in the middle of one of his classes with a dead rabbit in my hand that had a blue dot on it, screaming, “I’m pregnant!”  He turned and grabbed my hand, and said, “Then we must get married.”  I looked down and I had a wedding dress on, but I was freaking out, and I looked around the room for help.  One of his classmates had some of those large joke sunglasses on, in pink, and said, “You must bear the child, for the child is the one.” And then the boyfriends professor wed us.  The second dream was just something about me being pregnant and needing to keep the child.  Last night the dream was that I was in an abortion clinic and all of the doctors refused to help me get rid of the baby, because they said it was against their ethical code, and that I had to raise the child, even if it meant doing it on my own.  They said that it would teach me an important lesson on how hard life could really be.

The boyfriend has a medical condition that means he is quite likely sterile.  98% of those that have his condition are completely sterile, but 2% are not.  We have been having sex without a condom, and I’m beginning to freak out a little.  I’m still within “Have not missed yet” range, but it’s getting close to “Pregnancy scare” time. 

Very, very close.  As in, if it is not here by this time next week, I’m going to buy a pregnancy test. 

Sometimes when I get very stressed I skip, or I get irregular.  That is quite possible, but I get very worried about the pregnancy thing.  My mother was pregnant with me at seventeen, and even though I’m passed that mark, it’s not by enough for me to be comfortable with having a child.  I’m not in the financial, emotional or educational state to have a child just yet… even though I’d quite possibly be more adept at child-rearing at my current capacity then perhaps 70% of new mothers are.

Obviously I think quite highly of myself.

-Della Drago-