for contrast

grey day

thank you

Theo posted this picture on Flickr. I stole it and posted it here. His pictures of flowers made my morning, at least so far. Thank you. And I hope that you find more.

seeing

I got some eye drops that are supposed to correct the irritation that is causing my blurred vision. Apparently it is from the high pollen count. I have never had such problems before. The eyedrops, which I have been using for two days, don't make any difference. I still can't really see. It is embarassing, because I don't recognize my friends and acquaintances on the street, so they must think that either I am in outer space or that I am simply unfriendly.

which one?

embarassment

I write a long, heartfelt e-mail. I hit "send." Two days later I happen to read it, and I am embarassed.

memories

Lately I have been having a lot of intense memories from long ago, and I have been thinking about the role of memory in shaping my present consciousness. I realize that most of my memories from childhood are either sad or frightening or depressing; they are rarely happy. My happy memories center more on my friends, especially when I was in high school, after my family had fallen apart and I was more or less independent to do as I pleased. And my happy memories from childhood, when my family was still intact, focus on my friends as well. I don't really have any happy memories of my parents together, or of our family doing fun family things. We rarely did. We only took one "real" vacation ever, when I was eight and we went to Maine and New England and Canada. We never took another trip after that.

looking down

name me

I just read that my name, Jonathan, means "gift of god."

Yeah, right. That's me.

boring

I am starting to really bore myself.

branches

I could not sleep after 5 a.m.; as tired as I was, my thoughts were flying in all directions, and so I got up. It was too early, because now, at 8 a.m., I feel like half the day is done. And it's not.

miracle

escape

I love this picture. I took it today while I sat by my car, doing the move-the-car dance that is part of life in New York if you can't afford a garage. I took the camera with me because the sky was so beautiful. I am very happy with this camera, and as I learn to find my way around its complexities, it allows me a lot of control.

But that does not matter. What I want to say is that looking at this takes me away, back to times when I was in high school, old enough to escape my fucked-up family, drive in my car, go to mountains, hike through the woods, and lie on my back and look at a sky like this one.

The last few weeks have been a torturous time for me emotionally, and I feel wrung out like I have not felt in a long long time. In a way, my burning eyes, my blurred vision, is a symbol of how rattled my world has been lately. I don't think, after this, that I am the same as I was before. And yet, in my moments of peace, I know that I will emerge from these trials with more knowledge and understanding, and whatever direction I choose to go, I will do so mindfully.

walls

I don't think that most people who know me know that I am depressed, or bipolar. I cover it well. And I am not morose or glum; my depression is subtle, at least in its appearance to outsiders. Another depressed person might sense it, the way gay people sense other gay people. This is ok with me, because I don't want pity and I don't want to be feared. But this is also why I don't tell most people about my situation: I don't want pity, and I don't want to be feared. And I take care of myself. But here, in writing this blog, I don't hide my truth. And, as someone said, the truth shall set you free.

on depression

I have asked each doctor I have seen for my depression the same question: will I be taking antidepressants for the rest of my life? The answer has been a consistent "yes." The belief (or knowledge?) guiding this is that every time someone has a serious depressive episode, the brain chemistry is wired more deeply for depression, so that each depression brings increased risk of recurrence, and that these recurrences will become more severe. So the trick is to avoid the episode completely. Well, that means I am already cursed, since I had more than a few severe episodes since childhood. But I feel that the antidepressants, or in my present case, lamictal, which is for bipolar depression, are not working. Each drug I have been taking works for some time, a year or two, and then become less effective. What happens if none of them works?

So when I express my weariness and my hopelessness, it is not because I hate life or the world, not even close. When Beth Gibbons sings "God knows how I adore life" I usually fight back tears, because that is how I feel. Otherwise how could I feel the things I do so intensely? When I feel good, I am filled with joy at all kinds of things.

Depression is linked to some deep sense of loss. In years of therapy I have catalogued the possibilities, and dealt with the feelings of those memories. And yet, instead of acting as a purge, this just helps me understand, but I still get depressed. It is a matter of brain chemistry as much as anything else, and I have a feeling I was born this way.

I used to think that my depressions were linked to situations: if I just know what is going on with --------, then I will feel better. If I can just get this problem with ------------ fixed, then I will feel fine. Once I know the answer to ------------, I will be great. But I have learned that this is not true. Depression is like the weather, only without the benefit of a forecast to help me prepare. I don't know if is going to rain tomorrow. I only know what the weather will be when I wake up and look out the window. However, in the same way that my arthritic knee warns me of coming storms, I do have a sense of approaching clouds in my head.

Physical pain does not scare me. I have endured some excruciating things. Physical pain gives a focal point; you can focus on it, on alleviating it; you can breathe, you can scream. Mental pain is something else entirely. It has no shape and no center. But it is much harder, I think, for most people to understand and sympathize with; someone you, the sufferer, are to blame. You bring it upon yourself. "Think of all the things you have to be happy about," people say, meaning well. But this only makes me feel worse, because I know those things already.

at sea

a primer

The things about depression that I find particularly frustrating now: you can't talk about it with your friends, because it is boring and it just makes them feel bad, or worse, makes you feel pathetic; talking about it with your therapist is good at times, but you realize they are listening because you are paying them; the depression creates isolation, because you can't lie and say you are fine but you don't want to talk about being depressed, so you avoid people, don't answer the phone, don't go out; you know it will pass but it will just lie dormant until the next time.

So what do I do?

sleep

Earlier I wrote how I woke up feeling gloomy. It is as if my head were in some cloud, not in the sense of having "one's head in the clouds," but rather some kind of cloudy numbness. And something strange is going on with my eyes. They hurt, burn constantly, and my vision is blurry. I keep squinting, I keep cleaning my glasses, I tried putting on my contact lenses, but none of it helps. It is very odd and something I have not experienced before but I hope it is caused by allergies and will go away. But if it is not better in a day or so I will have to go back to the doctor, yet again. Perhaps it is all "in my head." But I don't think so.

time past

dreams/waking/turnaround

How can it be that I can go to bed last night in a calm and peaceful mood and then wake up this morning feeling dark and filled with dread? Harbinger of sinking...was it my dream? Did I have some disturbing dream, a waking of some memory, that will bring me down and which, awake, I cannot remember? I used to let my moods be, let myself swing wildly and sometimes dangerously from high to low. Now I must try and exert some control. But perhaps this is wrong; I could just give in. In the past, if I woke up feeling like this, I would go back to sleep and let the day pass. But I can't do that today; I have to teach, I have things to do. But what I really want to do is let the day pass with my consciousness on hold.