vacuumized

it’s the space where there’s rain on your left and dry on your right,
the sense between wind and stillness,
it’s where you might have lost your hearing and your sight

It’s the border between horizon and the cliff –
where you keep running towards to
or make a terrifiying flight

if, if, if….

It’s the rocks that could possibly fall down
Or the shallow waters that can make you drown
It’s the risk that is no risk
And safety that’s not safe

It makes things complicated
And easier at the same time

I am not hungry for life
And I’m not hungry for death
So what is left
Is this giant (w)hole of nothingness

Maybe I had hopes,
Maybe I had something left,
Maybe I had dreams.

And there I am, in the middle of a soil,
It’s covered in this thick grass,
And I can still see through
But nothing can reach me anymore.

And I just wonder
How it could ever come this far
That you can see the moon
But not the stars.

The ocean of the invisible

Waves growing enormously
letting the buoy dance against its will
but look further ahead, because the moment of silence
is where the storm refills

From the distance, or from the field of the eye
it could look like a big pool of emptiness, just crushing waves
where a life could easily die

underneath there is a whole world
one that seems so quiet and so calm
you would not even wonder

But that, is the eye of the storm.

The tornado of pain

Going from neutral to low. From low to neutral. And down again to low. It’s tiring to have to make so much effort to stay neutral. I’m trying. Really. I try to follow the advice of my new psychologist – but it’s hard and I already forgot half of what she said.

That head of mine.

Sometimes I have these thoughts in my head, and they maybe make me sound insane, but I guess they are just there because I think I’m in pain.

Then I think I wish I would drink, or I would have been an alcoholic, because then I would drink until I would feel completely numb. Or I think that if I would have been a user of drugs, I would take so much I would be completely out of this world. Sometimes I do wonder how it feels to take cocaine, or heroin, or stuff like that. If it really feels so good that you can’t resist it. Because honestly, I can not imagine that something feels so good that you want nothing else anymore. I can’t imagine that exists. At least not right now.

But I’m none of those. So it will not happen. And I  guess I just have these thoughts because I’m in pain. Or I think I am, but I don’t really know why.

 

 

But I guess I’ll do what the nurse and the new psychologist both said. The nurse said it several times even, also stating she’s not particularly fond of medication. But they both told me they thought it would be good for me to go in for medication. So I made an appointment at the doctor, to ask for an antidepressant.

It’s not that I’m totally against it, but there is a huge block for me. Because last time I was on this stuff and due some circumstances I had to stop at once, there was no help. Nor the hospital nor the mental health service was there. They would just point at each other.  I was completely on my own. And I promised myself that would never happen again. Because it is so horrible. I never want to go through that again.

So I feel a bit stuck. Stuck to not have it. Stuck to have to get it again and taking the risk of something I never want to happen again.

 

 

 

The Circus of Loneliness

The last week or so, I’m really feeling this weight pulling me down. I feel the depressed side of me,  and I try to work it out but this side and the other,  don’t seem to agree.

Since a week or so, I have a bit of trouble to sleep, I don’t want to eat anymore and I avoid cooking. I try to eat with others all the time, but end up eating frozen-meals (of course heated in the end) or pizza or something quick if that doesn’t work out. I go to the grocery store but messed up, like I’m not my usual self, sometimes I feel like I’m not real, I’m not the aware person I usually am. I feel like zombie.

I feel the emptiness in my life lurking around the corner. I reach the point where there is nothing to do, where nothing seems to matter. I know this is where a drop can start.

I’m trying to keep a bit busy, and find things to do. I clean the house, try to get rid of unneccesary stuff that is just in the way, move, go outside, see people sometimes, and I booked a flight to Corsica for October.

I always wanted to go to Corsica, so far I’ve never been. It will happen soon. I look forward to it I think, and yet it’s this bleak thing that will happen appearantly. I don’t really feel it. Or I do, but my feelings seem to be washen away a bit, like a jeans that is bleached. I don’t know. It’s a bit weird, not really nice.

Corsica is also home of the GR20, a hiking trails.  A part of that hiking trail, is called the Cirque de la Solitude, which means like the circus of loneliness. This name really attracts me, but this part of the trail is closed due to an accident a couple of years ago where more people died in bad weather circumstances.So I will not see it, nor go there, but I am really wondering about this place.

Last week I went to see a ‘new’ psychologist. The nurse I see sometimes got me a referral, because she will stop working at my doctors place and thinks I need more help. Probably I have to change again, because something changed in health insurance and in fact health insurance decides where you can go or not. But so far I could stay at this new psychologist, who I will see again in two weeks. I really don’t knwo what to think about it. I keep falling down. Crashing,crawling up, and it continues like this.

Anyway, I don’t know what to think about everything. I don’t believe I will ever get rid of all of this. I am too well to be sick, and too sick to be well.

I’m stuck, in my own cirque de la solitude.

About being lonely.

There seems to be something with loneliness. Somehow being lonely seems te be your own fault. You don’t go out enough. You don’t do enough activities. You don’t try enough. You don’t participate enough. You have to meet people more. You have to go out more. You have to do this, and that. And so on. And on.

But what if that is all something you can not manage?

That ordinary life, just doing the basic things, eating, sleeping, washing, maintaining your house or flat, your job, the groceries, making payments, figure out your insurances and how ‘things’ work , and nothing special outside of that, what if that is all you seem to manage?

What if you do visit people sometimes, but you still feel lonely?
What if you try things sometimes but they don’t give you an energy boost or make you happy?

What if you can’t keep up with things because you feel empty, numb, and nothing seems to matter?

What if  you try to do all the things to avoid depression, but it still doesn’t work enough?

Do you blame yourself? Are you not trying hard enough? To find an environment where you feel better? What if you don’t have the resources to try and to try and to try?

I just don’t ..

 

Hollow

How can autumn be full of leaves

When trees abandoned their little wings so

abruptly

And how can summer be with warmth,

When this thing, called the sun, is burning like hell

How can spring be so full of life,

When growth is blocked by predators,

How can winter not be so bleak

Grey skies, the endless cold

but it’s not winter

so it can’t be bleak

and yet here I am

full of emptiness

a complete filled void

 

The vertigo-shut down

So. Here I am, again. Not that anyone really missed me. I’m talking into a big, wide world where the words I use, dissapear into nothingness. They flow to the end of the street, into the darkness. They dissapear around the corner, and I stay behind staring at the lights, and empty street and the corner where the words just went.

-Okay, that’s not completely true – but that is how things feel.-

Since the beginning of August I’ve been dealing with some health issues -starting with vertigo. I was so lucky to get struck by things thing called vestibular neuronitis, also goes by neuritis or labyrinthis. I’ve been really ‘out’ of things thanks to this thing that made functioning a bit ‘normal’ impossible.

I had a panic attack which made me feel ashamed of myself. My body charges to ’tilt’ sometimes when I feel things im my body that are ‘not good’, thanks to my pulmonary embolism-experience in the past. I know it, and still it is so hard to fight.

On top of that I also had some kind of allergy crisis that is still going on. I have some nosespray for it and it goes better slowly, but my health is something that worries me a bit lately. The doctor things stress plays a big part. Which could be true, though I’m trying to keep that down.

I had to shorten my holidays because of it, and even though I didn’t really have money for holidays I went to France to meet again with love. I was lucky to be a few days in the mountains again. I feel different in the mountains. I am more happy there.

Now, I’m back in the city. In my job that could be slowly killing me. I’ve been saying so long that I need to find another job. And yet I keep failing. I started working on my resume, but so far there is nothing else to mention. I am just slow, I guess.

I have very less shifts at work, because of cuts I get very less hours. Which just pays all the bills, but nothing more. It worries me a bit, and I try not to worry.

I’m in doubts wheter to start Jiu Jitsu again, because I haven’t gone there for almost 6 months now and I don’t know where my motivation is, but it seems gone. It’s just empty, neutral, ‘i dont know and i dont care’.

So yeah, here I’m sitting. I don’t know and I don’t care.

But I try you know, I really try.

I just fail sometimes. Or mostly sometimes.But I try.

The fishbowl

Lately, I’m really terrible at writing. I just can’t. I’ve been out of internet for a little while at home. That doesn’t help much either. But when I sit and try to touch my keyboard, nothing comes. In my head I feel the soup of words spinning, but they stay there like they are in a fishbowl, you can stare at them and see them, but they can’t get out. That’s how it is.

Fishbowl. I can’t even draw one, I know.

Life has been a bit empty somehow. I’m struggling with this emptiness, with this nothingness inside of me. Other people seem to experience this less – they don’t feel I’m empty, but for myself, I’m one big hollow fishbowl. You see right through it, because there is nothing. So there is nothing to understand.

I lost motivation at work (again, or maybe  I didn’t lose it-maybe it never went away). I just go to work and do what is necessary. I pay my bills. But it’s as hollow as it sounds.

My grandmother passed away. I can’t even say I feel sad about that. The past and history with all of that, created this superweird situation. No one really misses her, and that is superweird. Yet its superweird how things developed (or didn’t) through the years and all the things that happened created scars that never heal. It’s weird to talk bad about the dead, but at the same time, dead people can still influence. Good and bad. It’s so complicated that I don’t know how to feel about it, and trying to explain tires me so much it blocks every single word that wants to come out. Death is weird to me anyway. Sometimes you see it coming, but when it happens, it’s so , weird. Enough about that.

Lately I’m less comfortable in my studio. I live in a building with few other studios. Some neighbours are really noisy and a bit messy and that irritates me. And I miss an outside space. A seperate room. I can not even really welcome people, my house is small and it’s just (except the bathroom) one long space. I can’t hang things on the wall because the wall is so bad it falls off immediatly and when you bump it it immediatly has a scratch or a little hole. I don’t need a big house, but one seperate room would be so great. When you step into my house, you see everything- kitchen, my couch& bed in one (just two mattrasses that I fold every day).

I stopped going to Jiu Jitsu. I felt broken for a while, not able to go. Yet my motivation is nowhere to be found. I know it’s good for me, but I don’t progress, I am not so happy and funny as the others and I just don’t blend in. That is how I feel, and I still didn’t go. I haven’t practised for months now. And I don’t know what to do with it, but still being a member and paying doesn’t make sense, does it?

Love flew back to her home country. That means I’m home alone now. I’m happy she went to see her friends and family and that she is off.

Now I’m sitting here in this house, not sure what to do. It’s weekend, but I just sit, stare, wonder. I don’t act. There is no motivation in me to do anything. I don’t want to cook, eat, move, go anywhere, read, just nothing.

All I can be is the empty fishbowl.

 

Living what life?

Imagine. But it’s a truth.

I have a day job.A changing amount of hours every week. Nothing steady, nothing fancy.   Permanent contracts out of the question . It’s not the question if you have to leave or not:  the question is when.

It’s not a special job: everyone could do it I guess, there is no special degree needed for it, though when they make selections, they kind of pretend it that way.

Despite that the colleagues are nice, I guess the job is not making me happy at all. I keep telling myself that it could be worse, and seriously, this is not the worst job I had. In fact it’s the best, as you speak in friendliness and payment. But that, is not everything.

And however I make enough to support myself, it will not, or never,  make me rich. It will not help me to buy a house or something. It will just help me to pay the bills, and lead a moderate life in terms of – yeah, in terms of what exactly?

Work became something I don’t look forward to anymore. It became dull, unrewarding, and the days become longer, though in minutes they didn’t expand at all. I feel like a robot, a part of a system that isn’t really a good one, but, that’s something you should’t care or question about; it just makes things more complicated for yourself.

there are a lot of indications that this isn’t the job that makes me happy.It gets harder in time. I get headaches, I’m tired, and I care less, I lost my motivation. I try to do things right, but it’s never right anyway and hard working doesn’t get you anywhere. It’s not even notices. Maybe I would really like to find a job in my field of interest, but I don’t really know what my field of interest is. Often people say that is bullshit, but I’m really not sure myself.

As well I always feel like I’m not qualified enough or there is too much asked in a profile which I’m not. Also this game of who’s the best candidate, and all this fancy stuff, isn’t my thing. Sometimes I wonder about going back to study, but it’s unsure how I could afford that or support myself. And if I could make it, with my mental struggles. I guess I have motivation issues. It’s not that I don’t want, I’m not sure exactly what it is. It just makes things complicated. I also wonder if the degree or certificate would help anyway- I don’t think so). It would be just lost money. But what am I working towards to? To keep working like this and supporting myself to rent a house and buy food and keep that going for 20 or 30 years?
I passed the point where all the questions and thoughts keep me from sleeping. It became normal part of my life. Where simply a year ago these things would keep me up , they became a part of me – they don’t keep me from sleeping, but just continue during my sleep.

I wish I could explain how I feel. But the truth is: I’m not sure myself.

All I know is that I struggle to find my words, to find my feelings, to find the change.

All I know is that what you are reading, are just words to you, but it’s blood of my soul.

And all the words that I can’t find, are frustrating me that I can’t get them out.

That I can’t find the step to change. That I can’t do things different.

that I don’t know what I feel. That I dont know what i want.

That I just can’t make things better for myself.

What am I living?

Not everything is possible

Outside the window,
I see fog, the traffic, the sky
trees saying goodbye to their leaves
they turned from green to yellow to leafless
but there is no rain

A deep sigh, it’s my own, and I don’t even hear
Staring to the outside world,
I’m a statue on my own couch
Frozen, where silence remains

After all
Sometimes the world is just living its life
no matter if you want to be part of it
it plays its game, dead or alive.