MonthMay 2009

There’s No Connection

What happened to April 6th? That was the day I said, “Spring quarter is beautiful.” Soooo much for that~

I feel like I talked about too many things all at once. There’s this internal confusion right now… But mostly I just don’t care.

Can this quarter please end?

I have nothing to talk about. At least that means I’m not depressed. Damn though, I rather have something to talk about.

9 minutes until class starts and only 2 other people are in here besides myself. People must not want to be in here. It is a drab sort of class. Can I stop rambling?

What do I want? Depression, so I can feel real again?

Since when is it so wrong to be normal? I’m feeling like this again. Not good. Whateverrrrr. I’mma play Farm Town now.

Dissociative Amnesia

“Oh my god, why am I in therapy again?”

Those were the words that kept crossing my mind as I sat in the waiting room, with my hands shaking. I pretended to read the newspaper but I felt nauseous, and most definitely I needed to cry. For a whole year, I’ve been FINE. Now all of a sudden I’m depressed.

All day today I was super restless and I couldn’t concentrate. Then in Psych class I started feeling sad… I was just taking notes.

I have such a headache.

I resolved to make an appointment with my good ol’ therapist Dr. Bimbela. Coming back from 2pm I figured it was better to make the appointment sooner than later. The appointment time? 2:30. I didn’t have enough time to feel “prepared.” It was strange seeing him again… like a recurring nightmare, only not scary. Just… come on… it’s therapy! And I’m going again. I have an appointment scheduled for an hour next week and then half hour the week after that. It’s a time-consuming CHORE to be depressed. This isn’t what I need (the depression) right now.

Let’s just forget this all happened.

——

On the brighter side of life.

Last night Rona and I went to Aroma Bakery Cafe in the Valley at about a quarter to midnight. It’s this lovely classy-casual place where the patrons smoke their cigarettes, drink their coffee, sit seductively, and have a laugh. I did most of those as well; gotta fit in you know? Unfortunately Rona and I weren’t carrying our Djarums so we couldn’t pretend to be quite as cool as everyone else.

The valet man was a goddamn riot.

Good times.

(If I’m having good times why the hell am I depressed? I still appreciate all the fun everyday occurences but… underlying all that I’m just frustrated at life!)

O hai still reading? Lemme tell you, Rona and I found the most potent butter uhm ever. No elaboration needed.

Preparedness!

Some form of anxiety is translating into my dreams. I feel like I hardly sleep and instead REM all night long. The dreams are too long, too horrific, too real. I think this may, in part, have been inspired by my Psychopathology textbook given that it mentioned that people with depression go through REM more often and at the “wrong” times of the night. But then again, it’s also possible the two are nowhere near related.

Two nights ago I dreamt that I was stuck in a car with person UA as the driver. And AM was in the front seat. I was frantically typing into my iPhone’s Map, “Downey Police Department” but I wasn’t in Downey. I was in the familiar LA area where I lived for most of my life, near Crenshaw. It’s funny; I always dream of my old house in LA, and that area ’round there, me always thinking (in the dream) that I’m in Downey. Anyway, I was looking for the police department because I had gotten raped and needed desperately to report the crime. AM had also gotten raped, but by UA (yeah, the driver), so it was one confusing mess. My rapist wasn’t really introduced in the picture… but I kept trying to wake myself up from the dream and with every attempt throughout the night/morning I couldn’t remember if I had REALLY gotten raped or if it was just a dream. Not exactly pleasant. Finally, Sandy called me at around 8:30am and woke me up from the dream, thank goodness! But I couldn’t shake the dream and I felt so uncomfortable. It wasn’t until about 20 minutes after I’d woken up that I realized the rape wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Only one person right now could possibly understand the anxiety. I’m still not dealing with it… I don’t know how! (Not to worry, I’m in no danger.)

Then last night I dreamt that my brother and I were playing a game in front of my mother. We were all swimming in this great big lagoon with a golden bridge above us, and everything was fine. But my brother and I decided to up the ante and ran up the golden stairs (it was definitely tiring!) and there when we reached the top to the bridge, there was another lake. Well, it looked like a bridge, but instead of any floor, there was only water. I think he and I started to drown… and then my loud music alarm woke me. I just remember the sky was rather gray and drab, but the coloring of everything was really nice… hard to explain.

I’ve also dreamt that I dyed my hair, cleaned the apartment, gone places, etc. It isn’t until I think of these things in real life do I realize (with some confusion) that I recently dreamt of them. You know that confusion where you don’t know if you already did something or not? It’s like that… except I can’t discern dreams and reality anymore (well except for the fact that the apartment is dirty still, and my hair is not yet dyed). Reality is the only thing corroborating reality right now. Otherwise my mind would wholly believe everything in my dreams.

My memory is getting more blurry as well. This might also have something to do with the fact that I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. I’m trying not to, but I just get so tired. Usually when I’m depressed I’ll sleep a ton. I don’t feel sad or anything… but depression is not necessarily sadness. And I’m getting the urge to write again. That’s another forsure sign that I’m depressed. When I’m NOT depressed (aka normal) I can’t write at all. It feels like my days are usual, common, and that there’s nothing worth writing about.

I’m not prepared for this!

Reactivated

Reading about depression and bipolar disorder in my Abnormal Psychology textbook is getting me depressed. It’s showing the inevitability of the return of my symptoms despite being depression-free for a year. I’m trying to recall this past year and honestly it’s been wiped from my memory. I don’t remember the non-depression (the symptom-less good days). I don’t remember … anything. Every so often I suffer through these memory “resets” – and I’m pretty sure I’ve blogged about this at some point or other; though no one believes me. Events, places, people – they all seem so far away. It’s like all progress is lost. The decisions I made, I can’t remember why I made them. The place I am at today, I can’t remember how I got here. What happened this entire year? I just lost a year of my life. Should I be upset? No, I’m pretty apathetic.

I think some symptoms are coming back. And that’s why I’m realizing that my memory just reset. Everything and everyone agitates my fragile ever-changing mood. I don’t want to bother dealing with anyone. Friends are useless. Or at least that’s the mindset that I’m in, despite that statement not really honestly holding true.

I’m so tired. I need coffee every single day to function. Lethargy is a no-good drag. Ugh. I couldn’t even wake up on time to attend swim class for two weeks! I’m back on that though, because I loooove swimming class. It makes me feel so good, it brightens my day, and it’s giving me a bomb ass tan. (:

The fact that I can even write right now is a sign of the return of my symptoms. For the longest I couldn’t blog because I had nothing to say – I was symptom-less, I wasn’t memorizing all that I did. The memories are all gone now, and I wasn’t even able to capture any of it in a blog entry.

Here we go again.