crazy - antidepressants?

This has gone past seduction.

Now all is ugly, horrid, black.

Wonder why I am doing this... sharing what is basically my diary with admittedly, a select group of friends and family and the millions of anonymous citizens of the web. Wonder what I am doing in any case, given I am still breathing. That's the thing about life, its a hard habit to break.

Have been semi-depressed since about Wednesday, now slipping into total negativity. Because of Good Friday I couldn't get my regular Friday morning acupuncture appointment. That has probably done me over. Also, because my car gave up on Thursday night, I couldn't do my Bowen. That has probably done me over. Because I have been drinking too much & thinking too much this weekend...

The problem with my needles and my homeopathic meds is that they pretty much keep me sane. Which is a good thing. But most of the time, they only keep me one step away from the void. Unless I'm skywalking I'm relying on them to keep me in a position where I can fight. They don't fight the battle for me. Given I'm one step from the edge, I spend a lot of time battling the darkness. When the fight exhausts me, I get seduced by it, because really, part of me loves it.

I spiral out of control and end up where I am now, with images of nooses recurring in my mind. Afloat in a ghostship, flying a blood red ensign on a sea of bones. All the while wondering what my face would look like with half my head missing.

With empty thoughts of how useless my life has been, how little I've achieved, how often I've failed; how my potential has gone unrealised. Everyone would be so much happier if I was gone, so much less hassle in people's lives. An unnecessary complication (me) removed.

Really how many friends would be sad? Probably a couple, for a week or so maybe. Then they'd shake their heads and move on. J? She'd be sad, but she can't help me here and now, so why should she feel any worse?

...

Lies, all lies I know. I can see that, sitting here in the storm's eye. Knowing does not make the thoughts any less real when they arise. The only thought that helps is remembering S. ... man... that's whats keeping me. The hope that when she's older, maybe, just maybe she won't have everyone sorry for her cos daddy's dead, put a bullet through his head; or embarassed cos he's crazy & we live half-lives, no money, no job, just the kindness of strangers; or she sees me once a fortnight cos daddy couldn't hold it together & split.

Truly, truly, I want to live a 'normal' life. Fuck I'd even take domesticity if I have to. I'm thinking about getting proper cars, dogs and taking up gardening. I'll sell out and join the revolution. Anything's better than this half-life of intensely focussed thoughts on the nature of existence, time & the mind... these recurring fantasies of death and escape.

I know I'll never be normal. I don't mind being lonely, an outsider, outcast, I like the concept of the nomad. the exile. a type of Deleuzian wanderer. What I'm sick of is spending all my time reminding myself of reasons to live. So I have a question, for everyone who does or doesn't read my blog.

Should I go and get some real meds? Some proper, MD-prescribed, side-effect inducing, insomnia-causing, possible hypomania-provoking, headfucking, REAL medicine? Because I don't know if I can handle another day of this...

darkchylde