The Jackass

We openly refer to my ex -- the abuser discussed in my last post -- as "The Jackass".

I can't remember precisely how it came about, but I'm probably not far off in saying that The Jackass had done something jerk-tastic in front of my parents. Because, yes, he really was that big of a douchebag.

Dad referred to him as a "jackass", and it stuck. (And let me tell you, he lived up to -- or perhaps down to -- the name!)

Anxiety

You know those dreams where there's something terrible chasing you?

The ones where you can't ever run fast enough, because no matter how hard you try, you can only move slowly? If you can move at all?

All the while, the monster -- you can't see it, but you know it's big and evil and indescribable -- the whole time it's gaining on you.

Almost close enough to grab you.

Always out of reach.

But close enough that you can feel it breathing down your neck.

You know that absolute terror?

Try living like that all the time -- except the monster is living in your head, and there's not even the hope of waking up from the nightmare.

It's the shadow that constantly hangs over you, even in the brightest light.

The unnameable thing in the darkness that drives you to insanity, not just with the fear, but with the constant doubt planted by people questioning what you could possibly have to be anxious about.

Which, of course, just feeds the beast, because if there's "nothing to be worried about", you must be losing your mind!

Depression Is A Bitch

I am a depressive.

My baseline mood tends to be subdued-but-stable, but mostly I'm kinda all over the place.

The only things I seem to be feeling right now? Profound apathy topped with anger and flavored with "fuck you". Which is okay, I guess, until someone inadvertently hits my rage button -- then I just unleash both barrels. And that's really not a good thing, because things get said -- things I don't mean -- and those things tend to be hurtful to others. Which makes me feel even worse, because I'm not a mean person at heart. So that adds a heaping helping of self-loathing to the mix, which is... really not good when you're already going into a depressive spiral.

Mostly, though, I just feel... blah. I want to cry, but the tears won't come. I would rage about that, but I just don't have the energy for it. Hell, I don't have the motivation for it, either. Right now you could poke me repeatedly and just get a "meh" in response.

I wonder if there's a reason depression and apathy travel in a pair?

Maybe it's because depression just saps all your energy and strength, so you just... don't have the energy to give a shit.

Maybe I'm even more fucked up than I thought I was.

Why do I feel like this?

What if "stable" is as good as it gets?

I just want to be happy. I mean, like, really, truly, happy.

Everyone else seems to be happy... what's their secret?

New Medication Regime

Wow, so it finally happened.

We're slowly increasing the buspirone, with a goal of 10 mg twice a day, and I've already noticed I'm less anxious. The Test, of course, comes at the next big family gatherum -- if I can get through it without trying to kill Kyle, we know the meds are working.

We added Concerta, an extended-release form of ritalin. Today is day two of that, and I've noticed that I'm [i]focusing[/i] on things, where I couldn't before. Yeah, even things I'm interested in. It feels good to have an attention span.

I feel... good.

Whoa. Just... whoa.

Part of what triggered this episode is the Garrido case. The other part was this conversation at Change.org.

I'm in the process of getting help, and hoping that I can return to some semblance of normalcy -- whatever that is -- soon.