Saturday, May 17, 2014


Shame is a painful feeling that's a mix of regret, self-hate, and dishonor. A good person would feel shame if they cheated on a test or did something mean to a friend.
Feeling shame — or being ashamed — is one of the most miserable feelings of all my feelings, but I can't put it on the top. Believe it or not, there are even worse feelings that are available daily, by the hour and by the minute.  But back to shame, when I feel shame, I feel like a bad person and regret what I did. If I'm trying to make someone else feel bad by scolding them, I'm shaming them. People also often say, "That's a shame," when something bad happens — meaning it's sad or a pity.  But they don't mean the shame I feel.  That shame often goes unseen by others.  If you are not familiar with shame or possibly have not been pointed out "oh, that is shame" you may not even know you have been shamed.  That is how it happened to me.  I didn't know why I hurt so much all the time.  But in about 1990, while seeing a therapist, I was introduced to shame. She explained shame to me and explained that I had experienced a lot of it in my past.  Since then, I have noticed shame here and there.  I have experienced shame here and there. I must be honest, however, I can't really catch it though. Let me try and describe shame happening.  Now if all of you were a Dr. Who fan I could easily explain by reminding you of the show that where Donna has that huge beetle put on her back.  She can't see it.  But other can catch a fleeting glimpse of it, and when they do, they are horrified.  That is carrying old shame with you forever.  Then there is shame happening to you (or me) and I am not noticing.  This is how that is done.  It quick and sly and can sometimes sound or even look like something normal but if you look or really listen with a trained ear you can see it or hear it. For those who are trained it quickly slips behind something of any shape, color or size and stays there until it is safe to travel along with all the other shame I or the intended target carries. Shame is just the right weight for the person who gives it.  Their toss is perfect.  It always fits it's target.  I have so much shame, so much that I don't even know I have yet. 46+ years of shame, day after day shame. It all fits in me and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere soon. It's heavy, oh so so very heavy.   Some how, I walk, I care take, I house keep, I keep on moving. Sometimes shame will accidentally let a real smile out...oops. and if anyone is there, if anyone cares, someone might see it. k~    

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

So here I go again (written 5-10-14)

So here I go again,  I have committed to another "get help here" for your problem!   So totally dumb.  I'm old.  I am just too old to make a change that is going to make any difference here.  After the magician left my life as recent as... currently... I am empty of soul, self, and trust.  The health care system has really shown me that suicide is not a serious concern, that care for suicide can be be chatted about for a bit and then rescheduled for another week to chat about again.

I live minute by minute.  I watch time by moments, not by hours, not by days and certainly by weeks.

With all this skepticism, I begin another journey I am not even close to prepared to begin.  I don't want to and if it wasn't for my children and my husband, but mostly my children, I wouldn't be doing this at all.... nope, nodda.

On Monday morning I will begin and 3hour, 3 day a week, 8 week group.  WOW how much I hate groups.  Wow.  I am not sure I understand it.  I am cynical, and negative and I don't have faith in me ever really being happy, ever.  So why am I doing it? Well the above reason.

Frankly, as I have told all my therapists killing myself would be easier. It might be the losers way out yada yada yada. but frankly I don't care about that either.  I am just so sick of feeling hated and lonely and dumb and unloved and forgotten.  I can't explain how I feel anymore.  I can't stay happy for any length of time.  My art seems to get uglier.  I don't like visitors, and I am a big downer.  I'm fat even though I don't eat. I can't cry even though I am so sad.  People ignore me even though I need to have people near me. But I want to be alone too all at the same time.  I don't blame anyone.  I only blame myself.  I did this to me. for just being me.

It's Mother's day tomorrow.  I never liked Mother's day.  I don't think I am a good mother.  I don't like the attention.  Just want to go to bed now.  I have Tomorrow to go through and then I have this horrible group to start..... nope. nope.


Becareful... It's all pretend. (written early May 2014)

I have spent the better part of 2 months in a deep depression.  Of course like anything it started from something small as everyone likes to say.  I don't like to say that.  I heard these words during marriage counseling... "you're mean to Rick" and that was it I have never returned from a hellacious journey that has included hallucinations from the past, delusions of the future, my future, confusion of what I look like to myself, to others. Distortion of time.  Never a clear sense of who are people I should talk to and who are those I should stay away from.  Everything is warped.

I have had at one point a magician visit me far from the past and play tricks on my soul. Day, night, day, night.  He was crafty and he was convincing. He made me feel beautiful and needed and not invisible.  I believed him.  He was so crafty.  He was good, he was really really good.  He knew to wait.  He know to get me comfortable.  He encouraged me to open up and give him more of my soul.  He would get me to open up even more and then even more. His craft was mastered, fine tuned, cleaver, with no faults.  The day came and with most of my vulnerability, most of my soul, most of my confidence and my courage laying before me, with one fell swoop he cut it off.  And as the saber came down from above his head towards me, he vanished from behind. His handsomeness was replaced by darkness. Everything he cut from me he took in one shocked blink of my eye.  No, I did not bleed. Not yet.  I did not cry.  Not yet.  All I could could manage to mouth were the words "never, ever, again"  and after that I remember nothing for I am not sure how long.

I feel shut out of  "the system".  It's like everyone is "playing doctor" with my condition, pretending I have a real condition but it's not really that serious.  Like she can wait. She's just pretending anyway.  Let's just wait for a week here and a week there.  No one explaining what happens if I go to the hospital with this. No one wanting me to be seen right away even though I tell them I want to kill myself.  I really think they are just wishing I would, and then they can all stand around and be like "oh, dear, so sad.  oh well. that's what happens"  and move on with life.

So here I sit.  I feel like I am at a crossroads.  Fake happiness and just move on closed off as much as I can.  Go to the appointments nod my head and just "recover" so everyone is happy and it will be over soon.  Or just end it all once and for all. That way my pain is gone.  I know life goes on.  My kids are so resilient. They will make it.  Rick is a loner he doesn't need me around and my family doesn't do mental health so if they can glom onto something to bitch about that "made me do it" they too will be fine.

I will make my mind up soon.  But I am not going to be running around much longer with me being told what and how to feel and fake caring and fake help.


The crazy train has arrived and it's time Ms. Walsh to get aboard

Today was my first day of an 8 week journey delving into depression chasm and up the anxiety apex. Now the Anxiety apex it a quite familiar trek. I've been on that journey before. I have also been on the edges of the depression chasm and maybe even dipped my toes in for a bit. But I have never ever been this deep with barely even a life line to the surface. Of course along the way I will have to stop and be "mindful" of each and every step I am taking. I hate groups with the hot fiery burning passion of the sun (overused but necessary here) and this is 3 lovely hours during 3 beautiful days of 8 joyous weeks. Ahhhh. You know it IS all perspective. To quote Spinal Tap's David St. Hubbins "Too much, too much f***king perspective". During my pain group experience it was 4 hours a day, 5 days a week for 4 weeks. Which was shorter. Wait a minute, is this my bad math again .... 3 x 3 = 9, 9 x 8 = 72. 4 x 5 = 20, 20 x 4 = 80. CPP was more hours MAN. Oh well at least CPP had a warm salt water pool! Whatever my point is.... this sucks. I felt I wanted to share this piece with my friends here on facebook because frankly I still, no matter how hard it is, want to keep as open as possible through what has been a very vulnerable painful and to be honest frightening and lonely journey. Thanks to many of you, who have stuck by me, keeping in contact with me and just being a friend. I know it can be hard to hug a cactus or even a pile of slim, but trust me a person who you may know who is going through something like this still needs a hug or reaching out to. Remember most of the time it is a silent illness. Thanks to everyone  K~