I’ve been looking over a lot of my blog over the last few days, trying to get into the mindspace of writing. It’s not that I have writer’s block or lack ideas, it’s that my mind just can’t seem to settle down enough to write about them.
Settle is probably the wrong word. It’s more like I sit and look at the screen, with the empty blog form in front of me, and I lose all ability to think coherently. I’ve tried to write, but even for someone like me who seems to occasionally write in a stream of consciousness the writing has seemed disjointed, incomprehensible, and frankly totally unreadable.
And looking at it, it started happening around September 18 – which is the date one of my ex-wives joined my family in a commitment ceremony.
I’m a little worried that instead of recovering and getting better, that some of the last year has only been an illusion of recovery. I’m concerned that instead of getting better, that I am getting worse. That even though I’m out of the situation that caused my mental issues, that maybe I’m pushing myself too hard to be all the way better.
My sister says that the mental damage could be getting better, but I’m not seeing it because the emotional damage is much deeper, and much harder to recover from. I know I’m chronically depressed, I know that I have developed an anxiety disorder (you would have too if you lived with what I lived with). But the addition of all the signs and signals of trauma based disorders are there too. For the most part, unless I’m triggered by something, I have the anxiety and depression helped by a medication.
But the depression and anxiety have changed. It used to be that both situations made my brain find ways to be critical of myself. To blame my life on myself and my “bad choices.” It would trigger something I tend to call “hamster brain” (i.e. like a hamster on a wheel, your mind turns and turns and gets nowhere).
Now both tend to make my mind simply go numb and silent.
You’d think that would be a good sign. That it would mean I’ve made progress in not destroying myself. But, for someone like me who is used to constant thought, constant analysis, constant brain engagement, it’s fucking terrifying.
Don’t get me wrong, there are times when having “no thought” is exactly what I want to be doing. When I’m making love to my boyfriend, that’s a point where I am not interested in having my brain actively thinking about anything. It’s an experience to just feel and share.
But I’m not used to having my brain just…….stop…..
It scares me, because my brain has always been my pride and joy. It’s been the one thing I can rely on, and use to better myself. The thought that this is what the rest of my life is going to be like seems impossible to bear. (No, I do not have suicidal thoughts – I just am experiencing fear about it).
I guess I look at it and think, “hey, if I can be persistent enough to keep my mobility after so many experiences that should have put me in a wheelchair, I certainly should be able to overcome this!”
Except, what if it is not? What if my life choices have destroyed my ability to think?