The sadness of yesterday, the feeling of wanting to isolate myself - not be with or talk to anyone or even continue my display of gratitude to all friends who have stood by me time and again through recurring slips and still love and care.  In my panic to stop the descent, I just get sadder and more panicky. I am so scared because I don’t want to lose my mind and my emotions again. I don’t think my friends can take another “withdrawal” – Homer’s opening words in his call today – “are you in withdrawal again?- do you need to come out to Camp Guantanamo to recover” – hell, I have only been away for 10 days – can’t I stay on an even keel for even two weeks? And the feeling of not deserving the loyalty of friends and being incapable today or yesterday of telling them about the gratitude that I feel, although it seems so important to do so. I need to do it before it is too late again. The feeling that I have so much to give and can’t give anything is a burden on my mind and in my soul.

William Styron’s definitive chronicle of his depression succinctly describes how I feel: “Depression is a disorder of mood, so mysteriously painful and elusive in the way it becomes known to the self – to the mediating intellect – as to verge close to being beyond description. It thus remains nearly incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it in its extreme mode”. Nobody understands the pain and how much one wants it to stop – you would do anything to stop the pain – the quiet, calm of death seems so enticing – just peace and no more pain – ever. Thanatopsis is very seductive at this point – comforting even.

I hate the soft, silent crying only triggered by remembrance of being in the depths of hell in my mind, my crazy uncontrollable mind, and the fear of falling again, the fear of abandonment, the fear of not accomplishing anything and the fear of not being able to stop it once it starts. Not being worthy of anything. Nothing seems positive today. Faye’s words are encouraging – but I hate imposing and can only tell her by email messages back and forth – we have interacted 25 times today and 13 yesterday – but talking or seeing anyone is an overwhelming black thought – meeting her face to face would have just dissolved into more crying.  It is so much easier in cyber space – she can’t see the crying although she knows it’s there.

My friend, Tamer, thinks that cyber words are not important – he doesn’t know that sometimes his words have given me hope when I couldn’t reach inside and find it for myself and I couldn’t call anyone because there is nothing more to say except: “I’m depressed” and cry. The nice thing about cyber friends is that you can’t cry or if you are crying, they can’t hear you and you just keep typing and holding on to this new friend – especially when they are funny – it becomes a “fierce attachment” – he just doesn’t know how important it is to just keep having contact with someone – you can get out of yourself, out of the self absorption and black thoughts and he is not aware of the crazy person he is speaking to and doesn’t understand the desperation which comes across in a chat. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me”. Then you feel crazier than ever – desperate? Shit yeah – I’m desperate – desperate to keep my sanity and maintain that fierce attachment even with a cyber friend. Communication, if open and new, keeps hope alive. I somehow think he cares and caring is what keeps you hoping.

There is the fear that friends will tire of always being supportive (fear of abandonment) and that I will sink into the “fierce attachments” mode – it bores the hell out of me so I project that it also bores the hell out of them – they need a break – so I withdraw into my crazy mind – just me and “it” and I sit by and watch like a spectator as it slowly disintegrates in front of me – my “mediating intellect” – as I stand by helpless – and yelling at myself – “Stop the craziness – stop it now”.  Inside there is a scream welling up: “Help me, I’m falling again and I can’t stop it”.

I keep taking showers to wash it all away but they don’t wash away the disorder in my mind or the darkness in my soul. It is too hot and muggy for a long cleansing bike ride and I have promises to keep that would not accommodate a long enough ride to outrun the demons clawing to get inside my brain. So I sit here and slowly disintegrate. I just want the pain to stop and don’t know how to stop it.

And on top of everything else, my feet are swollen – my feet NEVER swell, but today they are swollen – but so is my jaw still swollen from the surgery – but are feet connected to the jaw in some sick way? Is my brain connected to the jaw or the feet? I look like a chipmunk with a mouthful of nuts – with FAT feet and a brain that is “on holiday”.

And I hate my hair cut – I hate everything about myself today and shower after shower doesn’t wash the hate away. I can’t get the water to wash the darkness out of my soul. So I organize – organize the shelves, the paper work, the closet, the pantry, the refrigerator, the dresser and it still doesn’t organize my brain. The disorder is overwhelming me to the point that I can’t even organize this blog and I need to stop.

Apprehension about exposing the mussiness of my mind to the world is reason enough for the dilatory start of this venture originally meant to be my own private anonymous outlet to assuage the urge to compose extended epistles to the unwitting with prolix verbosity, assuming there existed interest from anyone in anything I have to add anyway. But lo and behold, it is no longer anonymous as I have allowed entry to two readers, both friends, one old and one new.

Faye, as she already is aware of the deep, dark recesses of my mind, but trusts me with her children anyway and is not frightened when I disappear for hours with her very precious Olivia. She is the inspiration for this brainchild and has added herself to my readers since she was instrumental in its provenance. My beautiful, funny Faye, ever encouraging, assures me that once I hit the “Post It” button – I will find it easier to continue exposing the pastiche of my excogitations (one for Tamer).

The second soul who has willingly subjected himself to the aberrations of my mind is my wondrous friend, Tamer, in whose honor I have chosen his suggested name for this opus – ensuring that I will have him in my thoughts each time I return to it. Also, he has been a pain in the butt requesting the link, therefore to quell the roaring beast, I have acquiesced to his demand. So now I have to say something really nice about him – but that is the easiest thing in the world to do.

Tamer, who with thaumaturgical ability sends a hug whenever I need one and has been a constant steady beacon ; who often unknowingly, has put the wind beneath my wings miraculously when I have found myself hanging ever so tenuously by a thread, even when I was being a smartass and appeared “scornful” and “desperate”. I now feel him in my heart at all times – even when he is busy and can’t reach out with his special touch of internet-lingo-filled messages. His electronically sent embraces have been a steady comfort and he always makes me smile, even sometimes break into a loud deep laugh. I cried once, though, when he, not understanding the language of “smart ass”, felt hurt in his heart and I thought I had lost him, but he trusted me enough to give me a second chance for which I am ever so grateful. He is the best friend of my heart as I am of his.

That’s all for today but at least it is a start.  More to follow in my current mood of feeling overwhelming gratitude for a multitude of friends.