My Depression Poem

My Depression Poem

I can feel the cloud envelop me.
Do not tell me to cheer up-
I have no limbs, but you ask me to fly.
Would you command
a dead man
to breathe?

Do not remind me of my blessings –
to have such wonderful things in my life
and still feel no joy
makes me
ungrateful.

Do not tell me I am beautiful;
that you love me;
I feel ugly and unworthy of love.
When you tell me these things
either I have tricked you into seeing me
as something I am not
or you
are lying to me
which
is
worse

Do not tell me anything.
Just take me to the doctor
and get me
my damn
meds.

Thoughts on Stalkers!

Thoughts on Stalkers!

I recently purchased “The Narrow Stairs” by Death Cab for Cutie, so I’ve been listening to “I Will Possess Your Heart,” and revisiting why it creeps me out (even though I like the song.) In the same vein, this appeared on Emails From Crazy People. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

When the song first came out, I was shot down for finding it a creepy-stalker song. Some of the comments on EFCP reflect the same attitude towards the protagonists of both the song and the note – aww, poor guy, too shy to tell the girl he loves her face to face. . .NONONONONO!!! Wrong! Yes, there is definitely social ineptitude there, but there’s a fine line between not knowing the right way to tell someone you like her (or him) and making yourself frightening to that person. I realized that one of the reasons I heard the alarms going off in my head is that I actually have been stalked, on more than one occasion, and I didn’t find it sweet or romantic in any way. If you’ve experienced it yourself, or known someone who had, you would not call the stalker “sweet” or “shy” or “romantic.”

For purposes of brevity, I’m going to use the masculine pronouns here. It’s not that women are never stalkers (just ask David Letterman, for one) but that I’m relating it to my own experience, and because male stalkers are more commonly known. Here is why stalking is ALWAYS creepy:

The stalker is either someone you have already rejected (check out those song lyrics) or someone you would reject (the stalker knows this, which is why the approach is indirect.) He is not some shy, hopeless romantic. . .he is strange, and the strangeness evident in his stalking behavior only scratches the surface of his strangeness.

He knows you will reject him, or have, but is convinced that all he needs to do is back you into a corner, capture you, or confine you until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in. Does this work for anything? Would any sane person, after being held prisoner mentally, emotionally, or physically, ever decide that her captor/tormentor was really the love of her life? No, that would happen only after her sanity had been compromised, and her escape options had run out.

He sees you as an object. He sees you as a possession. He sees you as Galatea to his Pygmalion – a lump of clay to be carved and perfected until you fit his purpose. Your individuality, your thoughts and feelings, your sense of self-worth are all subordinate to his idea of who you should be. He has already figured out who you are and how you will fit into his life, even if the closest he’s ever been to you is fifty feet away. He doesn’t know who you really are, and doesn’t care – his mind is made up. A healthy relationship involves compromise, but what he’s looking for involves none whatsoever on his part.

He’s STALKING you! He may be outside your window while you’re sleeping. He may be following you on your errands. He may be sitting outside your office ALL DAY LONG. No matter where you go or what you do, you never know if you’re being watched from a distance. If it goes on long enough, he may come indoors, speak with other people you know about you, even break into your home (because he knows you’d never actually let him in.) His stalking behavior can very easily become threatening or dangerous. Ronald Reagan and John Lennon were both shot by stalkers. Many kidnappings were preceded by stalking. Notes from stalkers often contain escalating threats over time. A normal person would not imagine that implying dire consequences would cause another person to change her mind about loving him, but a stalker would, and often does. He will kill or hurt someone to make you love him. He will break into your home and steal things to show you the depth of his affection. He might even do things to hurt himself and tell you about them so that you know what YOU are doing to HIM by not responding to his advances.

Someone who is sweet and shy and romantic is harmless, and might indeed get the girl of his dreams based on his virtues and patience. The stalker is not harmless. He is not sweet. He is not shy. He is not romantic. There is nothing positive about his actions. He is a stalker, and he is creepy. A song about a stalker is creepy because stalkers are creepy. He might not think so, but we all should know better.

How to Not Fall Asleep.

How to Not Fall Asleep.

I am so tired of not sleeping. I’m so tired of seeing information on the internet about fixing sleep problems – it’s so simplistic, and doesn’t apply to me at all. I’m really tired of sleep medications that end up costing me even more sleep than I’ve already lost.

I’m trembling all over, feeling woozy, hung over, flu-ish. I hurt myself this afternoon because the exhaustion has made me so uncoordinated. Knocked a container off the refrigerator shelf because my hand missed what I was reaching for, slammed my other hand into the refrigerator door trying to catch it and missing broadly. The obvious solution is a nap, so I set aside an hour and a half. It went much the way my nighttime sleep did, and in my frustration, I decided to write a little chronicle.

I’m trying a little relaxation/meditation technique that involves picturing yourself as a hollow vessel, slowly filling with a warm orange liquid from toes up to head, then slowly draining back down. Very effective, according to sleep experts.

Slowly, the warm liquid fills up the toes of your feet. The big toes, the smaller toes, and then you feel the balls of your feet, then the arches, slowly filling you with warmth and calm.

I think the high pitched buzz in my head is a C. Maybe one day I’ll check to see.

Feel the warmth in your feet as the liquid fills your heels, then your ankles.

God, I hate this pounding and whooshing of my pulse in the right side of my neck and head. Whoosh/pound – whoosh/pound – whoosh/pound. . .why only on the right? Why did it start up again? It’s not the sleep meds, because it started two days ago. Maybe the feeling like someone’s plunging a sharp pencil into my right ear is from the sleep meds, though.

Feel the warmth in your feet – wait, did that. The liquid begins to fill your calves. It rises slowly, inch by inch. You feel warm and calm and peaceful.

I’m thinking of a song that was playing on the radio in Physical Therapy. Do I own that CD? The CDs are organized, the books used to be, but now I’m taking them down so we can move the shelves. Audrey’s going to the library tonight, maybe this time I’ll finally go and drop off some books for donation there. That room is such a mess.

The warm liquid rises up into your knees. Feel them relax, and then feel it begin to fill your thighs.

Hot flash. Throw off the covers. Damn dog is clanking her collar on the wood floor. Why can’t the damn dog sleep on a rug? Why does the damn dog have to sleep right in the doorway whenever I’m trying to nap? Why don’t I ever remember to take the damn dog’s collar off when I lie down for a nap? Now I’m cold. Bundle up again.

Where was I? Crap. Feel the warm liquid fill your. . .ankles? Oh, knees. Knees. Now feel it begin to fill your thighs. Feel the calming warmth spreading through your body.

Am I ever going to have the energy to finish that room? I haven’t even hemmed the curtains, now I need to take them down so I can paint. All the fabric to hang so I can start sewing again. I wonder which bag has the polar fleece? I’m hearing a Jonathan Coulton song now. I should download a few more of his tracks. But I never finished learning to play Skullcrusher Mountain, even after I transposed it into A.

The warm liquid begins to fill your pelvis. Feel the warmth entering your abdomen, filling you with peace and relaxation. . .

I have to remember to read last month’s minutes before Thursday. I should finish filling out the voucher, too, and I never did make up those forms and reports in Access. The leftover supplies are in a bag in the kitchen next to the stuff I want to Freecycle. I should do that and get them out of the way. Once they’re gone, it’ll be easier to wash the floor. This stupid medication didn’t help me sleep, I’m so tired. I could get all this stuff done if I weren’t such a zombie.

Feel the warm liquid rise up past your navel, up towards your ribs. . .

Time to get up!!!