Did You Miss Me??

I haven’t been here in a while… I haven’t really felt inspired to bore anyone with the details of my life.  The details haven’t been worthy of writing about anyway.

I survived Christmas.  I guess that’s a victory.  I can’t say that I wanted to, survive that is.  I’ve made a few promises to friends that if I ever feel suicidal I’ll talk to them.

Was I sincere when I made the promise? No.

I just wanted to make them feel better and promising was the easy way to move on.

That being said, I’m kinda big on promises.  I try my damnedest not to break them.

Lying in my bed on Christmas Eve, I flirted with my contingency plan, but thoughts of the promises kept surfacing, making their way up through the ocean of vodka I was trying to drown my feelings in.

First of all, would I call any of my friends on Christmas Eve (when they are happily celebrating with their friends and family) and tell them that I’m feeling suicidal?

Uuuuummmm fuck no.  I’m not a complete fuckweasel.

And offing yourself at Christmas is just too pathetic and cliché.

So I just got drunk.  I know, my coping powers are pretty goddamn amazing.

I also got a tattoo and my hair isn’t red anymore… my mental condition can be measured by my tattoos and hair color changes… like some weird dysfunctional barometer.  It’s ok though, I love the new tattoo and the hair doesn’t look awful.

I, honestly, think that I can thank (or blame) the camera for helping me survive 2013.

Last week someone asked why I choose the subjects that I do for my photography (abandonments, specifically)… I can relate to them… they’re rejected, unloved, forgotten, ignored, not as pretty as they used to be, no longer useful, haunted… just like me.  Maybe, together, the camera and I can save a little bit of these places, for posterity… and maybe, save me in the process??

I was asked “Why did you change your hair?”  My answer “I wanted to be someone different, maybe, eventually I’ll be someone that I like.”

It just occurred to me, that this time last year, I was in Georgia… seems like a lifetime ago…

And New Year’s Eve… fuck… I find it hard to get excited about a new year… I really wish that I could though.  It’s not like a have a dance card full of party invitations anyway… maybe I’ve been spending too much time in my hermit hole.

People say “You’ve got so many things to be happy about” and they’ll go so far as to enumerate them.  Perhaps in an attempt to guilt me out of depression… I mean, that’s a proven effective method, right?  But, I’m almost glad that people don’t understand… it means they haven’t lived it.

Fuck Feelings

I hate insomnia, I really do.
You’d think that I’d get used to it, since I’ve had it my entire life, but no, it never gets any easier.
But what I hate having, infinitely more than insomnia… Are feelings.
Fuck feelings, they are assholes.
They’re just running around like a thousand little fuckweasels ruining lives and days. I swear on everything that’s holy if I ever catch one I’m grinding it into the sole of my shoe.
I’m really mad at myself.
I took my heart out of its little box, where it was completely safe and sound, and I pinned it right to my sleeve, like a huge dumbass.
Then what happened?
It got poked. And not poked in a good way.
So while my heart was out running around like it had just escaped Alcatraz, it grew… Or it simply got fat, but for the sake of my ego, I’ll say grew.
Now, no matter how hard I try I can’t stuff it back into it’s box.
Fucking awesome.
I have no choice now but to let it roam free, out there in the big ugly world getting poked, prodded, kicked, stepped on and getting gum stuck to it’s little heart shoes.
Each time it suffers an insult I get this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, tears well up behind my eyes and I find myself swallowing hard, mumbling about the allergies in the Ohio Valley, and biting the inside of my jaw to replace the pain.

Toss Out a Lifeline

Suicide prevention.

I came across a blog post that said October was National Suicide Prevention Month, then another one that said it was September.  I didn’t do a lot of research on the subject, because every day should be National Suicide Prevention Day.

I’m a suicide survivor.  Four years ago, I died… but my timing was off and I became a successful recipient of CPR.  It’s long ugly story that I’ve chronicled on another anonymous blog.  Maybe some day I’ll feel secure enough to share it, out in the open, I don’t know.

I’ve gone through periods of depression since the suicide, it’s part of my DNA now and I never responded favorably to medications, so I deal with it.

The thing that I’d like others to take away from my suicide is to PAY ATTENTION.  Pay attention to the people that you love.  If they are becoming withdrawn, if their appearance is changing and not for the better, if they seem to have no joy, if they are struggling with chronic headaches or GI issues, if something JUST DOESN’T SEEM RIGHT.

TALK TO THEM.  LET THEM KNOW YOU CARE.

Don’t just watch them circle the drain.  Don’t say “I’ll call her tomorrow”.  Don’t think “Everyone has blue days”.

If someone is serious about suicide, they will not reach out, they can’t, their mind is filled every single day with the thoughts that they should die.  I’m sure that it crosses everyone’s mind at some point; I believe that’s part of being human.  But for the suicidal, it’s an all consuming thought, permeating everything that they think and do.

I do remember, at one point, my thoughts frightened me, so I called a psychiatrist to make an appointment, I had to leave a voice mail and no one ever called me back.  In my mind that was some sort of a sick sign that I heeded.  Do I blame them for not calling me back? No, but they really should be more diligent.

I won’t write a diatribe about how I think mental health is the biggest crisis that our country is facing right now, but I’d like for everyone to think about it…

I still have issues with my own family and the subject of my suicide.  They’d prefer not to talk about it, act like it didn’t happen and they seem resentful when I mention my Rebirthday… it makes it harder to deal with… don’t do that to anyone.

What is the point of this post?

Don’t wait until it’s too late… if you see someone struggling, throw them a lifeline.

Not A Keeper

Not a keeper.

That’s who I am.

I should really be used to it by now.

I’m not.

Want a girl to have a good time with? Want a girl who can hold her own at the bar? Want a girl that isn’t afraid to do something totally crazy?  Want a girl to have a few weeks of crazy sex with??

I’m the girl for all of that.

Want a girl to be your girlfriend?  Want a girl to take home and meet your mother?

I’m apparently not the girl for that.

I hope you’ll forgive me for all of the whining I’m doing here… I do have friends, believe it or not.

But, I’m a suicide survivor, and they get all freaked when they think I’m down.  I don’t want to freak them out.

I need to vent.

“You’re not picking the right guys” is what I hear.   How in the fuck do you know who is the right guy?  Where in the fuck is he hiding?  Is it just not in the cards for me?

I hate all of these feelings of inadequacy… not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not successful enough… where does it end?  When will I ever feel good enough?

I don’t see it happening any time soon….

But, hey, I’m not lying in the bathtub with a blade to my wrists, so I’m not doing too bad.

Un-Fuck Me, Universe

Some days are hard… fucking hard.

Today has been one of those days for me.  Sometimes the weight of my loneliness hits me squarely in the gut… deflating me like a balloon, 3 days after the birthday party.

I drove around for a little while with the camera, only got about 4 photos I liked, then the rain forced me to go home, and I slept the afternoon away.

I went radio silent, no texting, no emailing…  is that healthy? Unlikely…  Do I know what is healthy? Unlikely.

Sometimes the darkness swallows me, I’ve learned that fighting it is futile… I’ll wallow a while, I suppose… what else do I have to do?

I wish that I had a normal, chemically-un-fucked brain.

Sigh.

 

Can I Call it a “Moment” When it Lasts More Than 36hrs?

One of my shots from yesterday… might be my favorite.

So Friday evening I shot a wedding, I was the photographer and the witness.  The only people present were me, Boom (the officiate) and the couple.  NO ONE knew they were getting married.  The ceremony took place in the pouring rain in the gazebo at Mirror Lake in Eden Park… It was a little romantical.

After the ceremony Boom and I wondered whose parents had issue with the wedding… perhaps we will never know.

I went home Friday night, went to bed and I stayed there until Sunday morning.  I wouldn’t have gotten up then if it weren’t for my Dad’s birthday and our zip lining plans.

I told everyone it was my allergies.

It wasn’t.

I was in one of those dark holes that is so fucking hard to climb out of…  every time I fall into one I wonder “Will this be the time that I’m not able to climb out?”

I, physically, climbed out Sunday morning, I even took the camera and got some shots before meeting my parents.  I couldn’t let them down, I’ve hurt them so much already in this life…

Yea, I suck.  They’re good parents, I’m just a shitty daughter… they really should have had more than one kid.

Today, there is still a black fog over everything, but I’m going with God to Yellow Springs this afternoon to photograph sunflowers… I think that sunflowers have some positive effect on people who are residing in a black hole, we shall see…

I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised that no one wants to keep me, right??