ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics), on fire (on fire)
I am having stupid fucking nostalgia about who I used to be and what I used to be able to do

...someone today introduced me to Vitamin String Quartet, who are fucking awesome, but one of their covers was something from Phantom of the Opera, and even though I've listened to it bunches of times, usually in German, something about their arrangement tugged me back to hearing it in person; POTO was something that my college bff and I bonded over, as well as the second thing I really got involved in the fandom for (and that was kickoff to getting involved with Buffy fandom and it was all "downhill" from there), but also there was a non-touring production in SF that we went to at least 15 times in our four years because SF was close enough for an evening trip and because the theater wasn't entirely wheelchair accessible (no elevator) so they had to give us wheelchair seats (back of the orchestra) for the cheapest price because we couldn't get to the nosebleed seats, and if you give two POTO-obsessed teen/twentysomethings the opportunity to see POTO regularly and cheaply they're damn well going to take it

so emotional dump back into when I could move decently much and still still do things and when I ... I mean I had depression for 3/4 of the time and it was new and baffling and difficult, but not the trudging through life feeling of unending depression; back when I could still write and still do cross stitch and still thought I had the opportunuty for a job and a life and stuff

and I wasn't prepared for this at all, and now I can't stop crying at how pathetic I am now and his small my life has gotten
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics) in the dotted-line red-x-in-corner broken-image style (404 not found)
For some reason I am feeling really ... small and pathetic and useless right now. Very much a Thing and not a Person.

I don't even know what would help.
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics) in the dotted-line red-x-in-corner broken-image style (404 not found)
So I'm kind of in a bad headspace right now (in case the poem didn't give that away). Depression is hitting harder than normal, and normal for me is pretty hard anyway, so I'm ... very not okay.

One of the things it's being most vocal about is that I need to isolate. That people don't want to me around me especially when I'm on a depressive jag, that I don't deserve to be around people, that no one would notice or be bothered if I just disappeared, that I should go away and stop imposing on people who don't like me. And intellectually I know that depression is a lying liar that lies like a lying thing, but brainweasels are very good about making their lies feel real.

I can't trust my own brain right now, so I need to borrow y'all's for a while. If you like me (not in the sense of *like* like, just, idk, think I'm nifty) and are so inclined, please tell me? This is not an obligation, and I promise that I won't judge if you don't say anything -- it's not that I need you to prove our friendship (or whatever), it's thar my brain says I am a hate-worthy despicable person and right now I need points of view that are *not* that.
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics) in the dotted-line red-x-in-corner broken-image style (404 not found)
So I had been super proud of myself for maintaining my duo streak even with nano

(455 days)

(Which ran from the beginning of when I started duo, with four skips that were covers by the streak protection thing you can "buy" to cover a single day of inactivity)

Went to bed last night and totally crashed. Couldn't keep my eyes open at all -- and this was at like 9pm, when I usually get to sleep more like 11 -- so I listened to an audiobook until I stopped tracking it, and then slept.

Woke up just now (1am) and realized that I hadn't done duo. Went ack, and went in to do an easy lesson -- I am a boy, the man eats an apple -- because the usual thing would take too much braining (plus I can't see the left half of the keyboard because blanket, and touch typing is less possible on a touchscreen keyboard, so I'm typoing like hell) and I figured doing it now would make sure the streak protection kicked in.

Except I apparently hadn't done it the day before either.

So I am now on a one day streak.

On the one hand, I knew I couldn't keep it up forever. And 455 is something to be damn proud of. And I know I should be seeing the long success instead of the two days of failure: know I should be saying "well I just have to go longer the next time."

On the other, some of what was keeping me doing it daily was the streak itself, and I don't have that, and I don't think I can do it again. Fifteen months is a long time. And every time I see the streak length now, it'll just be a reminder of how I fucked up. Again. Because it feels like I always do.

(ETA and the mom voice in my head is saying that the thing I picked out as my reward for surviving November (and doing so well at nano, but I promised myself something for just getting through the month regardless of what happened with the writing) is now forfeit because of this. That something to reward good behavior does not go to people who mess up this badly. I am fighting that voice but it is … hard. Because my brain is apparently a minefield.)
ysobel: (Default)
I really hate it when my "fuck I suck I am a horrible useless person" moods coincide with me fucking something up (because then that adds ~EVIDENCE~ for my brainweasels to nom on)

/sulks off in a slouch of suckdom/
ysobel: (Default)
My inner toddler: *does a thing* Look! I am being an adult! I am adulting ALL THE THINGS! Yay me!

My brain: And? You should have done it earlier. It was obviously easy so how come it took you so long? Because you suck, that's why. Also you still need to do X,Y,Z, *continues to list items* ...

MIT: ... Moooooom! My brain's being meeeeeean to me! *bursts into tears*

MB: See, if you just did the stuff you were supposed to (and did it perfectly the first time of course) you wouldn't make yourself this miserable.

*sigh*
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics) in the dotted-line red-x-in-corner broken-image style (404 not found)
i have an annoying habit of trying to logic out my emotions

it doesn't really work

how do brains work idgi )
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics), on fire (on fire)
I did not get nearly enough sleep last night. Apparently, even though I can't actually do anything productive to help with flooded bathrooms, my body still goes on full alert. And since the carpet people were coming over "sometime this morning" to deal with the wet carpet*, and since I wanted to be up and dressed and stuff before maintenance people were tromping around my bedroom and bathroom, I couldn't even sleep in to compensate; in fact I got up earlier than usual, just out of paranoia.

So. No sleep.

(* there is currently a fan blowing down the hallway, which is freaking Suri because OMG LOUD MONSTER. poor kitty.)

...and then I accidentally used one of my pet names for Suri in front of my aide, who promptly started using it. I had an immediate reaction (not expressed) of YOU DO NOT GET TO DO THAT. MINE. MINEMINEMINE. I know that my aides take cues from me as to how to treat Suri or respond to her, but some of my habits -- particular pet names or phrases, or responding to her noises by mimicking them the best I can -- are a) completely and thoroughly automatic, and b) irritating when the aides do it. But because I do it in front of them, it feels weird to say "you don't get to do that".

However, the babytalk has no excuse whatsoever, and I haven't even managed to say "don't do that" about /that/. because I am a wuss when it comes to things like that. Talking to animals is fine and dandy. Annoying babytalk, not so much.

#

I have not gotten anything written lately. This is frustrating, which means I feel more self-pressure to write, which makes it hard to write, which is a COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY USELESS CYCLE that I am trapped in.

I really really wish /awareness/ of bad brain patterns were enough to /eliminate/ said brain patterns.

(I know it's progress, I know that you can't really get out of negative ruts unless you know they're there, but the middle ground gives the brainweasels so much fucking ammunition, because I don't have the excuse of not being aware I'm doing it, so "obviously" I'm not strong enough / I'm just being contrary / I like being miserable / I'm doing this to myself / etc etc etc. Which is yet another brain pattern and I know that but it feels so true that it's hard to fight.)
ysobel: (*facepalm*)
...only it's not the sort of home stretch where you're out in the lead and it's smooth sailing. It's the sort of home stretch where you're in the back and there's mud on your face and the finish line is so far away and you just want to stagger over to the side and give up.

Current word count is a bit under 35k. With five days left in the month, that's doable, right? I mean, all I have to do is write 3k words a day.

...yeah, guess how many I've written so far today.

It's a nice round number. That's about all it has going for it.

I meant to write! I really did. But it hasn't happened. (Yet. I won't let myself go to bed without getting *something*. It just won't be the 3k that I need.)

And yes, I know that what I have now is 35k words than I had at the beginning of the month, and I should be able to see this as a good thing, but ... I can only think, I could have done better. I should have done better. It's partly "do or do not, there is no try" nonlogic and partly "what matters is that you try your best" nonlogic and partly me having ridiculous expectations for myself. I didn't give it my best effort (obviously; I would have succeeded otherwise) and therefore I am cranky with myself for half-assed-effort-ness. Crankier than I would have been if I hadn't tried at all.

(I can't differentiate, it seems, between ridiculous expectations and any expectations at all. It's like there is a binary of "do impossible things // fail utterly" with no middle ground. This only applies to myself, of course, not other people. Double standards are fun.)
ysobel: A bunny (bunny comics), on fire (on fire)
am still trying to find ways to do sock knitting. (for those who don't remember, lemme 'splain ... no, there is too much, let me sum up. Hands are fixed in position about half a foot apart from each other, right in front of my stomach. I knit by using long (10" or longer) needles -- which limits me to dpns and straights, since circs do not exist with long enough needle part -- and by having one hand near the tips of the needles to manage yarn and stitches and suchlike, and the other hand at the base of its needle. English style knitting does not work because the only way I can manage it involves letting go of the right needle, which tends to slip out; Continental style works for knitting, haven't managed purling in a way that works, except that the bamboo needles below size 5 (US) are flexible enough that I can't keep the yarn on the needle while I'm trying to make a stitch. I'd try using metal normal-length dpns with a locking hemostat type thing to hold one needle with, but I can't find my set of sock dpns and anyway the hemostats would probably scratch the needles up. Sock loom works physically, but the gauge is bafflingly off, in that I have completed a toe of 60-stitch circumference and even after about a week off the loom to allow it to relax it's rather too big and there are other issues there anyway.)

brain is not in good place. sigma is very persuasive, and it is so much easier to just let myself fall back into the pit where it wants me to be. I don't want to be there but I'm halfway down and can't figure out how to climb up. some of this is medication issues (changed pharmacies, which meant one of the depression meds was from a different manufacturer, and apparently that's enough to fsck with my brain chemistry) and some of it is self-worth issues (which partly is a self-feeding cycle with the depression, and partly has to do with the fact that I physically can't do 99% of the things I'd like to and am too lazy and/or scared to do the effort required for the other 1%).

i should be happy. there are a hundred reasons why. i'm not, and the main reason is that i'm not doing anything Useful. can't tell you what Useful is, per se, but i'm not doing it. the point of life is to a) pass on genetic code, which is so very bad of an idea in my case; b) contribute something; or c) enjoy things. not managing any of those. sigma keeps telling me that I am wasting my college education, and I think it's right. there are things I should be doing, and i'm not, and it's easier to hate myself for it (and whine in my journal) than to fix the things that are wrong.

mrrp.
ysobel: (fail)
So last night, I went to a concert, and it was great, the music was great, and I ... came very very very close to full-out crying at a couple of points. For no reason. It wasn't contextual, wasn't triggered by anything in the music or anything that had happened, but I kept getting horribly upset, to the point of blurry vision because of tears in my eyes that dammit I was not going to let escape.

And my mind kept wandering to. I don't even know. Depressing stuff. Missing things that aren't available. Wanting things that I can't have.

(I want to walk barefoot through grass. I want to walk through beach sand and into ankle-deep waves. I want to ride a bike. I want to stretch my arms over my head. I want to use a swingset, and pump myself higher and higher until it feels like I'm flying. I want to rub my eyes. I want to eat an ice cream cone. I want to be able to drink out of a glass or bottle or can. I want to be able to crouch down and pet a dog, or flop on the floor and let a kitten crawl all over me. I want to learn how to do rock climbing. I want to swim laps. I want to learn how to rollerblade. I want. So much I want.)

Some of this is PMSy hormoney shit, but I usually get apathetic depression, not this sort of crying heartache.

Some of it feels like grief, but for what, and why now, and why for things that I never did (and in some cases had no interest in back when I was physically able)? Why can't I shake it>

...Why can't I have a new body?
ysobel: "This life, it fills me with the boredom." (boredom)
I am ... reeeeally freaking bored.

(Yes, you all needed to know that.)

#

I had one of those dreams where people were eating pizza or something and the table was a) full, and b) inaccessible anyway, so when I came up to join them it wasn't possible, and no one noticed. Dear brain: I get enough pathetic emo insecurity shit from sigma while I'm awake; you really don't need to add to that while I'm asleep.

#

My arm still hurts. Not enough to be worth the brain-numbingness of pain meds, but enough to be annoying.

Somehow, that feels like the story of my life.
ysobel: Pink bunny (bunny comics), head cut open, completely hollow (no brain today)
My daily babblefest at 750words churned up some stuff that ... well, let's just say that the biggest words in the word cloud were can't, don't, and not. (Amusingly, because the subconscious page (overall stats/trends) only updates at the end of the day, it still lists my recent mindset as 'positive'. I suspect that will flip, hard, after today's entry gets processed.) My brain is not the best place to be.

*pokes idly, and also metaphorically, at squishy zombiefodder in head*

I want to change. I just ... don't know how, or am afraid to try if I do. And I think a part of me is clinging to Formless Lump of Depressive Self-Pity because it's the identity I've shaped for myself, and scraping a new identity is scary and hard and stuff. Especially when the identity I'm clinging to (with sigma twined around my neck whispering words into my ear: worthless, useless, idiot, loser; I can sometimes hum loudly enough to block out that voice, but I have to breathe sometimes, and when I do, it's still there: lazy, despicable, pathetic, failure) is so easy to slip back to, because I can climb a hundred feet of metaphorical cliff and still with one mistake fall back down to the bottom.

I sometimes think about writing up the story of my journey with sigma. Not to publish -- I doubt there's be a market for such crap -- but just to write about it. About how it didn't have a name, not at first; about how it started small, almost too small to notice; about what it fed on, and how it grew, and how it changed me.

(And sometimes, I think that doing so would give it too much of a voice. More than it already has, which is still too much.)
ysobel: (idiot with a garbage bag)
Having New Roommates, and also needing to make loom markers, meant (naturally) that I had to haul out my entire bead collection and show it off peruse.

I find myself wanting to get (back) into wire wrapping and various beadweaving stuff.

I have plenty of seed beads, some thread, no appropriate needles, no wrappable wire, and -- even with awesome extended tools -- working with /seed beads/ given my limited mobility is just asking for frustration and failure.

And yet...

*sigh*

My brain is kind of dorky sometimes.
ysobel: (Default)
I have an annoying Persistent Feeling of Vague Unspecified Doom, which I am thinking of calling Bob for short. It's the sort of uneasy feeling you get when you know you've forgotten something -- somewhere you're supposed to be, or something you're supposed to do -- but you can't quite think of /what/. And half the time, Bob shows up in my head for no reason whatsoever, when there isn't actually anything I've forgotten.

...This probably is not helped by the fact that my brain is in last-week-before-concert kaplooey. (I can handle the usual two-hour twice-a-week rehearsals no problem, but last night had an evening rehearsal (again two hours, with barely enough time to run home and pee and scarf down food); tomorrow has the same schedule, and then there's a pretty-much-all-day Saturday rehearsal, and my brain is fried and we've only just /started/.)

...Also not helped by the fact that my midday PA called in sick /at 6:15/. (Getting my brain awake enough to process what she was saying, was fun. Midway through, she asked "did I wake you up?" Heh. Getting my brain to go back to sleep again was also fun.) This is, mind you, three hours before my morning PA arrives, and I'm usually still solidly asleep when she comes.

On the completely unrelated hello-I-am-a-dork side, I got black nail polish. Not because I want black nails, but because one of the cereal boxes we excavated from the back of my cupboards had a toy car that, while not precisely the Metallicar, is close enough to pass. Except for the bit where it's bright blue. Hence, nail polish. I haven't figured out how to make it more Impalaish, and I'm not sure what to do about the windows (currently very dark), but. Cheap-ass pseudo-Impala is on its way :D
ysobel: (Default)
* have a weird almost-but-not-quite-sick feeling in my throat and lungs. bleh.

* yesterday's bizarre productivity (which, as far as I can tell, involved doing things as a way to procrastinate from writing an entry about why I was procrastinating doing those things) has not carried over to today

* the only thing I have accomplished today, really, is cleaning up my flist/circle (by which I mean reciprofriending people I hadn't gotten around to adding back, that are still vaguely active.)

* if you don't want to see my flocked entries, please do feel free to let me know; I will not be offended.

* similarly, I may have accidentally missed people; if you want to see my flocked entries (which are generally not as exciting as they sound), poke me.

* anyway.

* yesterday's confidence about the bus plan for getting to choir also has not carried over to today. am nervous. want to hide under desk.

* getting back into Normal Schedule after several weeks of Weird Holiday Schedule is very very unsettling. I keep thinking I'm going to forget things.

...sigh.

*distributes hugs and virtual chocolate to anyone needing/wanting them*

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ysobel: (Default)
masquerading as a man with a reason

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