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It`s not Clinical. It`s not that easy.

It's been a long time since I've blogged or participated in the blogging community; but it's not the only place I've been silent. My online presence is mirroring the silence that has taken over my existence. Since my parents` death, a heart-wrenching disastrous relationship soon after, a lack of any family nearby and friends who moved on to other chapters in their lives, I've found myself more and more isolated. I've discovered that my world has emptied despite the fact that I reach out, go out, try to stay active and meet new people.

Nothing works. My heart and life are in stasis. I make myself laugh but to be honest, I don't feel it. I don't feel joy. Or sadness really. Or anything. I feel dead inside. And shame. Shame that I am somehow so lacking that people do not want me in their lives.

This sounds dramatic. It probably is. But it's besides the point.The point is this does not mean I have had nothing to say, just that the thing I've been gathering the courage to say has remained unsaid.

I've been suffering in a deep, unshakable emptiness, trying to hide it behind humor or forced joviality. I jumped on the 'fake it to make it' train, desperate to get to a happy destination. The problem is this train is being conducted by Captain Delusion who is navigating me through a minefield of feel-good blogs and posts, each one driving my emptiness further into the core of me. The train has crashed.

I don't want to feel this way. Who does?

Before I get a stream of advice. I respectfully and warmly say that I have tried everything to change this state of affairs. To be brutally honest, the last thing I need is platitudes, quick fixes or lists of ailments others are experiencing. I know it sounds heartless; it probably is; but right now, I need help. I need to be able to crack through this hard cocoon that I`m trapped in. My jailer is firmly housed inside me. The only person who can break me out is me. That is not to say that I do not welcome others` similar experiences, struggles and victories. Those would be helpful. So would unconditional support and an acknowledgement that what I`m going through is not a topic for debate. Support can be given without advice.

What I am suffering is not clinical depression; it`s existential angst; mid-life crisis; absolute loneliness all rolled up into one huge monster of a situation. It`s just easier to call it depression. I have gone the therapy route but I haven`t found someone I feel comfortable talking to. It`s difficult to crack myself open in front of two, dispassionate eyes. Like T.S Eliot, therapists make me feel like a specimen, pinned and wriggling on the wall. I feel judgement and coldness. But it`s not them. It`s me, because it comes from within.

Even now, here, in my first step to push myself out on the ledge of admission, of confession, of an attempt to feel that finally I might be able to break out, break free and break open, I`m hesitant, very wary and ashamed.

I will hit publish. I need to. It`s the first step in dealing with this parasite feeding off my life force.
I will post this so people will know that my attempts to reach out are actual requests for help.

I`ve been taught to solve my own problems, that it`s impolite to complain or air out your `dirty laundry`. Fuck that. I`m about to be very impolite. And this is just the beginning.


Anonymous said...

Vulnerable ... is hard ... honest ... is hard. Last week I took a student on a workshop. He told me you have changed the way he writes! I mused on wether he had bad teachers in previous years ... and was refreshed to find a good one ... he emphatically said "No I have had good ones" She is just really good!! Truth comes out of the most sincere whispers. Sometimes the good one does is not absorbed inward.

Genie Sea said...

Thank you for that. It means the world. As teachers we rarely get positive reinforcement :-)