Month: August 2017

August 2017

Hello, readers. I say that, but I actually kind of hope this blog post finds no readers, as I am about to share something fairly personal. Even more so than the rest of this blog.

I can’t recall the last time I wrote a post here, but it does not matter. Since Easter, I’ve been dealing with a brutal onslaught of odd memories and ideas, coming thick and fast. There are some benefits to this- I submitted eight documents to the WGA West registry within a week, for example- but there are times I feel down and discouraged and just incredibly heartbroken, and tonight is one of those times.

I’ve been dealing as well as I can with these symptoms- I’ve been trying to get enough sleep, I’ve been trying to exercise and eat well, I’ve been trying to get sunshine, and taking my meds and supplements. I’ve been journalling like crazy and I’ve been talking, at times, with friends. I am very isolated here in Ohio, and so these talks are necessarily long distance, and while it is nice to feel connected to others in some small way, it is also very depressing to think that I cannot seem to bring myself to make local friends.

I’ve been struggling tonight with the thought that I don’t belong on Earth- that there is nowhere where I will truly belong, no community that will have me and accept me completely, no family, no circle of friends. I feel strongly that I’ve never found that- the times I thought I had I was wrong, and only fooling myself; I feel strongly like the only place I will find heart’s ease is actually in the afterlife, whatever form that takes.

I know this is fleeting. My suicidal thoughts always are. I know I have more to live for today than I have for a long time, and I’m probably being irrational. I haven’t slept well or regularly since Easter, and that’s probably adding up, and I’ve been thinking a lot about my lost friends in Los Angeles and whether I will ever see some of them again. I struggle with the notion that none of them were truly friends, just friendly acquaintances, and maybe I have never actually ever had a big circle of actual, real, loving friends. People I could call on when I’m in this sort of mood, people that I can talk to no matter what is going on, no matter how busy they become- they will find the time to talk back, and comfort me.

I feel I have a few friends that want to help me this way, but I am afraid to ask them for help. Past experiences have taught me, rightly or wrongly, that if I ask for help too often people just start to ignore me, so I’m probably going to find a therapist if this fugue continues, and not bother the people I know with my existential crises. This kind of feeling is really something that can be cured with human contact- physical human contact, and honestly, what can any of them do? I know my husband is busy with work and distracted with all he has to do, so I don’t bother him- and everyone else is far away. I feel like I am on a very small island, sitting alone, afraid to throw bottles with notes into the ocean in case I bother the people going by in their boats. I feel like I don’t belong on any of them.

I know this is a temporary state of being, but it helps me to express this in some form that isn’t simply my hidden diary entries. This is my note in a bottle, floating in the ocean. I do not expect it ever to reach any shore, I do not expect it ever to be read- but in case it is, dear reader, do not fret. I go through this every so often, and I think this is just something that I’ll always struggle with. A good friend of mine has shared with me her story of dealing with the aftermath of suicidal thoughts, and I know that it is neither easy nor unfortunately is it rare. I hope if you are on your own little island, as I am, wondering if you are entirely alone, that maybe you’ll take some comfort in knowing you are not the only one- your island is not the only one.

I hope someday, with the help of a therapist, that my island will grow larger, or that I’ll find my way onto one of those boats.