Moderate depression is irritating. I’m on day 3 of a jag. Friday I woke up and couldn’t get out of bed. I wasn’t totally incapacitated and screaming and moaning and writhing like I get when I’m severely depressed, but it still took me two hours to get up. Then I kept dissociating all day. Ran some errands and I didn’t even know where I was. Watched six hours of movies. Saturday watched the snow come down. Today woke three hours early and every minute I’m just on the verge of tears but I don’t cry. I don’t know what the point of my life is but I can’t be bothered to think about suicide. I bake some Toll House brownies even though I already have some just so I can binge on the dough. I play with the kitty and dissociate and come back and dissociate again. I’m tired but jittery. Depressed but anxious. And irritated as hell.
Light depression is just a touch of the blues, almost wistful. Severe depression is absolutely crippling. But this moderate crap is being right on the knife’s edge and just standing there, wavering. Stuck.
I’ve been listening to my “moody musik” playlist (right now it’s Barber’s Adagio for Strings), which keeps me going but mellowly. Books on depression tell you to listen to happy music when you’re depressed but that just makes me want to throw things. I remember a music theory class where the instructor told how he was once playing piano for a group of developmentally disabled people. They got increasingly agitated so he switched gears completely and played something which he thought would soothe them. Instead, they went completely berserk. That was when he realized mood regulation needed to happen gradually.
Since The Bad Thing happened in 2000 I don’t really cry anymore. Even when I’m severely depressed, I cry for 10 minutes and then I scream for a while and then I cry for 10 minutes—it’s never 20 minutes at a time. When The Bad Thing happened I completely dissociated. I never cried about what happened. And since I have PTSD from it, I am stuck in that time and so keep repeating that loop of reaction. I can’t move on. So I get these urges to cry but then I just go away.
I had a hard time understanding PTSD when mytherapistlynn first diagnosed me with it. I always associated it with ‘Nam veterans and it was even a joke among my friends. I could understand how someone who’d been under fire would be triggered by police sirens and relive wartime experiences in a flashback, but I didn’t see how flashbacks applied to my life. Mytherapistlynn says I live most of my life in a flashback. I started dissociating as an infant and I keep reverting to that.
My mom once told my sister that her way of dealing with our crying jags as babies was to leave us in our cribs until we were all “cried out.” So apparently I learned early that my needs didn’t matter. Mytherapistlynn says there’s research to show that infants do this—it results in “failure to thrive.” I don’t know how it’s measured (how do you measure the psychological state of a pre-verbal being?), but I know that I have always struggled with even identifying my emotional needs, much less asking others to meet them.
Though I do recall one experience that stands out. It’s the experience that doomed my relationship with my fiancé. He and my friend Brad and I (for some reason I will never understand—I’m terrified of heights) decided to cross this big ravine via an abandoned railroad bridge. As we moved out towards the center of the track, the spaces between the ties got wider and wider and the ties themselves were more rickety. I became totally paralyzed with terror, setting down on the rail and clutching on for dear life. My fiancé and Brad were already across the bridge before they noticed I wasn’t with them. And my man, my beautiful man, came back out on the bridge to help me. He was so gentle and reassuring and patient. He just talked me through it, in no hurry, totally taking it at my pace, getting me to inch forward. It took years to get me across that bridge but he never showed impatience, only love. I had never experienced anything like that before. And once tasted, I wanted more.
Throughout most of our relationship, I was in therapy (of course, when am I not in therapy??), and there were times where he would come in and my therapist would help him see what he could do for me. But what I never asked was what I could do for him. I had that taste of having a survival need met and it triggered an over-powering, infantile NEED to be loved in that way again. Completely. Thoroughly. Safely. Kindly.
On the night of 09 December 1996 he told me he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed me to get my own life. That’s a whole long story which I don’t need to go into now. Suffice it to say, I did what he asked. Not because he wanted it—because I wanted it. And it made a dramatic difference in our relationship. But when push came to shove he left—for other reasons. Devastating. But that’s not the story I’m telling today. I’m thinking about needs and how they get filled or not.
My guidebook to that relationship and one other was Harville Hendricks’ Getting the Love You Want. His theory was that we are attracted to people who can fulfill our childhood needs but who unconsciously don’t. The goal of the book is to bring us to consciousness so that, in the context of marriage, we fulfill our own needs and the needs of our spouse. I focused on the bits where I listed what I needed and what my fiancé was supposed to do. I wanted that experience on the train tracks over and over. It wasn’t until after he told me he needed a change that I started implementing Hendricks’ other suggestions. It totally transformed our relationship. I really recommend the book to people in long-term committed relationships. Pretty amazing results.
Mytherapistlynn has told me about “attachment parenting” (just glancing at the page this links to makes me tear up) which sounds like some bizarre, Martian, impossible method of parenting where you actually pay attention to your child. You try to meet your child’s needs. So if your infant is crying, you soothe the child. By your soothing the child, the child learns to self-soothe.
This is just beyond my comprehension. One of the many reasons I can’t have kids is I would be like, “Crying? Get a job!” I don’t think I’d be able to transcend my training.
My sister somehow did it. Her kids are 18 and 20 now and they talk about just about everything. They have their rough patches, but they trust each other. When I was 18 and 20, I wasn’t on speaking terms with my parents. I don’t think I really let them back into my life until I was 30, after my Saturn Returns. I like to think that, in the context of a loving and supportive relationship with a spouse, I could find a touch of my sister’s patience and understanding and Libraness to break the stranglehood of my Capricorn sun sign and five-planets-in-Virgo-holy-hell-Batman. But that’s all academic. No babies for me.
Ho-hum.
Now I have it—it’s a Kurt Vonnegut kind of day. “And so it goes.” No high highs, no low lows, just this gentle feeling of there being no point to life but, to your bewilderment, you find yourself alive anyway.
Let’s end with music, shall we? Here are some excerpts from my moody musik playlist.
Radiohead: Talk Show Host
Cat Power: Cross Bones Style
Aqualung: Cold
Nouvelle Vague: In a Manner of Speaking
Madonna: Paradise (Not for Me)
Portishead: Wandering Star
Have a day.
Favorite lyrics by The Smiths!
August 28, 2014“I wear black on the outside, ’cause black is how I feel on the inside.” This is the quintessential lyric for The Smiths, one of the best alternative music bands of all time, and a huge influence on my high school and college years. As I went through my first mental breakdown, Morrissey and Johnny Marr were with me every step of the way (as was The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees). Morrissey only has about four notes in his range, so singing the songs by yourself is incredibly monotonous, but paired with Johnny Marr’s unforgettable guitar riffs you can’t help but wail along.
This post is entirely an exercise in self-indulgence, though if you feel so inclined, leave your favorite lyric in the comments!
William, It Was Really Nothing
How can you stay with a fat girl who’ll say:
“Would you like to marry me
and if you like you can buy the ring”
she doesn’t care about anything
“Would you like to marry me
and if you like you can buy the ring”
I don’t dream about anyone
except myself
What Difference Does It Make
Heavy words are so lightly thrown
But I’d still leap in front of a flying bullet for you
These Things Take Time
Vivid and in your prime
you will leave me behind
you will leave me behind
This Charming Man
I would go out tonight
but I haven’t got a stitch to wear
this man said “It’s gruesome
that someone so handsome should care”
How Soon Is Now?
There’s a club if you’d like to go
you could meet somebody who really loves you
so you go, and you stand on your own
and you leave on your own
and you go home, and you cry
and you want to die
Handsome Devil
A boy in the bush
is worth two in the hand
I think I can help you get through your exams
oh you handsome devil
Hand In Glove
The good life is out there somewhere
so stay on my arm, you little charmer
But I know my luck too well
yes, I know my luck too well
and I’ll probably never see you again
I’ll probably never see you again
I’ll probably never see you again
Still Ill
I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving
England is mine and it owes me a living
ask me why and I’ll spit in your eye
ask me why and I’ll spit in your eye
Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
and heaven knows I’m miserable now
This Night Has Opened My Eyes
In a river the colour of lead
immerse a baby’s head
wrap her up in the News Of The World
dump her on a doorstep, girl
this night has opened my eyes
and I will never sleep again
You’ve Got Everything Now
No, I’ve never had a job
because I’ve never wanted one
I’ve seen you smile
but I’ve never really heard you laugh
so who is rich and who is poor?
I cannot say…
Accept Yourself
anything is hard to find
when you will not open your eyes
Girl Afraid
She says:
“He never really looks at me
I give him every opportunity
in the room downstairs
he sat and stared
in the room downstairs
he sat and stared
I’ll never make that mistake again!”
Back To The Old House
Are you still there?
or have you moved away?
or have you moved away?
Reel Around The Fountain
But take me to the haven of your bed
was something that you never said
two lumps, please
you’re the bee’s knees
but so am I
Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want
Haven’t had a dream in a long time
see, the life I’ve had
can make a good man bad
Is It Really So Strange?
Why is the last mile the hardest mile?
My throat was dry, with the sun in my eyes
And I realised, I realised
I could never
I could never, never, never, go back home again
Sheila Take A Bow
How can someone so young
Sing words so sad?
Shoplifters Of The World Unite
Tried living in the real world
Instead of a shell
But before I began…
I was bored before I even began
Sweet And Tender Hooligan
Poor woman
Strangled in her very own bed as she read
But that’s OK
Because she was old and she would have died anyway
Half A Person
She was left behind, and sour
And she wrote to me, equally dour
She said : “In the days when you were
Hopelessly poor
I just liked you more…”
London
You left
Your tired family grieving
And you think they’re sad because you’re leaving
But did you see Jealousy in the eyes
Of the ones who had to stay behind?
And do you think you’ve made
The right decision this time?
Panic
Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play
IT SAYS NOTHING TO ME ABOUT MY LIFE
You Just Haven’t Earned It Yet, Baby
If you’re wondering why
All the love that you long for eludes you
And people are rude and cruel to you
I’ll tell you why
I’ll tell you why
I’ll tell you why
I’ll tell you why
You just haven’t earned it yet, baby
You just haven’t earned it, son
You just haven’t earned it yet, baby
You must suffer and cry for a longer time
You just haven’t earned it yet, baby
And I’m telling you now…
Ask
Shyness is nice, and
Shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life
You’d like to
Rubber Ring
And when you’re dancing and laughing
And finally living
Hear my voice in your head
Unlovable
I wear Black on the outside
‘Cause Black is how I feel on the inside [a classic!]
Asleep
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don’t try to wake me in the morning
‘Cause I will be gone
Don’t feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
The Headmaster Ritual
he does the military two-step
down the nape of my neck
Rusholme Ruffians
scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen
(this means you really love me)
and though I walk home alone
my faith in love is still devout
I Want The One I Can’t Have
On the day that your mentality
catches up with your biology
What She Said
“How come someone hasn’t noticed
that I’m dead
and decided to bury me
God knows, I’m ready”
That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore
when you laugh about people who feel so
very lonely
their only desire is to die
well I’m afraid
it doesn’t make me smile
I wish I could laugh
but that joke isn’t funny anymore
it’s too close to home
and it’s too near the bone
it’s too close to home
and it’s too near the bone
more than you’ll ever know
Nowhere Fast
and if the day came when I felt a
natural emotion
I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump
in the ocean
Well I Wonder
Gasping – but somehow still alive
this is the fierce last stand of all I am
Gasping – dying – but somehow still alive
this is the final stand of all I am
Please keep me in mind
Barbarism Begins At Home
A crack on the head
is what you get for not asking
and a crack on the head
is what you get for asking
Meat Is Murder
it’s not “natural”, “normal” or kind
the flesh you so fancifully fry
the meat in your mouth
as you savour the flavour
of MURDER
The Queen Is Dead
So I broke into the Palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said: “Eh, I know you, and you cannot sing”
I said: “that’s nothing – you should hear me play piano”
Frankly, Mr Shankly
I want to live and I want to love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
I Know It’s Over
“If you’re so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you’re so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very good looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know because tonight is just like any other night
Never Had No One Ever
I had a really bad dream
It lasted 20 years, 7 months, and 27 days
Cemetry Gates
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people all those lives
Where are they now?
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived and then they died
Seems so unfair
And I want to cry
Bigmouth Strikes Again
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said by rights you should be
Bludgeoned in your bed
The Boy With The Thorn In His Side
And when you want to live
How do you start?
Where do you go?
Who do you know?
Vicar In A Tutu
I was minding my own business
Lifting some lead off
The roof of the Holy Name church
It was worthwhile living a laughable life
Just to set my eyes on a blistering sight
Of a vicar in a tutu
He’s not strange
He just wants to live his life this way
There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Driving in your car
Oh please don’t drop me home
Because it’s not my home, it’s their home
And I’m welcome no more
Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
[I have never understood these lyrics but that doesn’t stop my caterwauling]
From the ice-age to the dole-age
There is but one concern
I have just discovered
Some girls are bigger than others
Some girls are bigger than others
Some girls mothers are bigger than other girls’ mothers
Reel Around The Fountain
oh people said
that you were easily led
and they were half-right
You’ve Got Everything Now
I’ve seen you smile
but I’ve never really heard you laugh
so who is rich and who is poor?
I cannot say…
Miserable Lie
I know the wind-swept mystical air
It means: I’d like to see your underwear
I recognise that mystical air
It means: I’d like to seize your underwear
Pretty Girls Make Graves
End of the pier, end of the bay
You tug my arm, and say: “Give in to lust,
Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we’ll
Soon be dust… ”
This Charming Man
Why pamper life’s complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger’s seat?
Hand In Glove
Hand in glove
we can go wherever we please
and everything depends upon
how near you stand to me
I Don’t Owe You Anything
Did I really walk all this way
Just to hear you say:
“Oh, I don’t want to go out tonight”?
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