Journaling Day 7


Cried too much to make phone calls. Made calendar and tumblr blog. Wrote bad poetry. Participated in 3 prompts. Wish I could change. Wish I could stop crying. Wish I could write again. Wish.


Journaling Day 6; lots of swearing


I’ve been so unstable on the drugs, and my body so in revolt, that I’m pacing myself off them. Anti-depressants don’t work and there is a subset that the mood stabilizers don’t work for either.  The panic attacks are relentless right now – and I’m not getting any meds for that – I might get addicted they say. Fuck. I took Xanax for years just fine. Stopped them just fine. Now quit messing with the stuff that makes me a zombie and give me back my Xanax. I could cope. This stuff. I can’t even stay awake so that’s how I cope.

I’m so tired of doctors telling me that it’s my fault I don’t get stable – like I purposely mess with my meds so I don’t. Chaos and pain may be my comfort zone, but I can’t even begin to move beyond it til something either steadies me out or I go clean and deal with it that way. Why feel like shit with a bunch of drugs fucking up  when no drugs makes you feel not much worse.

I just deleted several paragraphs because I’m not ready to be that publically honest yet – if this is going to work, I’m going to have to do this privately. I don’t know if anyone would be interested in getting passwords to my private journal – I’m not sure I could even give them out. Guess there has to be two journals – the surface one and the deeper, darker one. I’ll let some of the dark stuff up sometimes, maybe.

Pain is rising – got to stop typing – makes my jaw worse. My moist heat treatment heating pad came today so I can start doing my home exercises while I wait to see if the new health insurance will allow physical therapy on my head and neck muscular structures. The pain is really wearing me down into the depression abyss.


Journaling Day 5


Warning: spiders discussed

JusJoJan 1 & 2: spider and time and journaling

We keep spiders in the house – my mother, very superstitious, said it was bad luck to kill a spider – and any time I do by accident when I’m sweeping, I feel bad.

Spiders, if small enough can stay and eat the ants that swarm out of the walls  and through the cracks usually in Spring time, but we had an winter invasion this year. Spider webs take care of other creepy crawlies like silver fish and the millicentipedes that seem to drop from the ceiling.  We live trap everything but silver fish, millicentipedes and really pesky flies. Spiders that are too large or scary looking get the time out treatment – caught under a glass, then thick paper slipped under, and taken outside. If it’s really cold, it’s a death sentence., so we might take them next door. (Don’t tell the landlord we house sit for).

I like the jumpy spiders – the sort that jump across the wall or the floor. They stay small, most of the time, and are harmless. Rarely see Daddy-Longlegs these days. Miss them from my childhood. Just like praying mantis. But that’s a different insect family.

So, if you don’t like spiders, you probably shouldn’t visit – there’s bound to be one or two dwelling somewhere in the corners, or ceiling of our place. You might want to limit your time here if you did come.

So, I’ve spent some time on spiders (A friend suggested I just jot for myself in my journaling, so I picked the first two words. I might link later)

Another friend suggested that I play a game with my voices “Listen to your negative talk and for every negative thought say something positive.” Doesn’t matter if you believe it, just say it. Just keep going that way. “Soon your brain will think less negative” She warned it won’t be magic, but maybe it will help pull me out of the darkness I’m in. The voices howl and whisper, and seem so rational and logical. So true and believable, it will be hard to counter them with positives that I don’t buy into or believe. Guess it’s about resetting your responses, pressing replay and getting a different tune. I’ll try. But it seems so hard. Like everyday seems so hard.

Another wet, cold day. Errands done, but milkshake consumed. So nothing else to eat today. Calories, sugar, fat, spent. Peppermint candy cane shake – left over from Christmas. So depressed, like moving through molasses – everything a struggle. And not much achieved. Just tired. So very, very tired of it all. Pain starting to build, so break from typing. Maybe all for today’s entry.

Journaling Day 4: 2nd post

I posted this as part of the Just Jot It January (see LindaGHill @ Life in Progress ) and it fits well with my journaling. Close to tears a lot today. Frustrating, painful day. Want to write, I mean really write – go back to the long stuff or work on unfinished pieces, but can’t find the words – like the pain that eats my jaw is eating into my brain. I so wanted to feel that I was a writer, maybe someday get a novelette published, or a collection of my heroine tales published. But my writing doesn’t compare favorably to those whose work has been published or who have won short story contests, or have their work in anthologies. I read that I feel like just giving up. Why bother. Writing was a lifeline, yes, but I harboured a small hope (oh, I might say on my blog novelette, but I never let on how much this meant and was keeping me going) too. But that hope, like all my hopes, is gone. Crushed. Destroyed. Gut-kicked. So what is the point to writing? There is none. My life is so hollow and empty, I have nothing else to do. And now I don’t feel I even can do that. Can’t write as a life line so why write at all.

jusjojan: warning 03.01.17

warning – a very depressed person is blogging.

warning – a very depressed person is posting dreck.

warning – a very depressed person cries when she reads how well others write.

warning – a very depressed person is trying to figure out how to survive without writing.

warning – a very depressed person doesn’t feel like/can’t writing/write but is addicted to prompts and posting.

warning – a very depressed person might just jot january again.

jusjojan via LindaGHill @ Life in Progress daily prompt january 3, 2017 brought to us by Dan Antion

Journaling Day 4: Waterhouse and Manic Mondays

study of a girl

Originally posted on my Lorraine’s Frilly Freudian Slip blog:

John Waterhouse holds this special place in my heart – his art speaks to the tiny hopeless romantic within me who writes of a fairytaled illusionary version of medieval Europe. Within this world, characters shift and morph but they travel within a sphere that Waterhouse would have gladly painted, I think. He would have given life to the people I write of – certainly the women some of whom come from his images to begin with.

2017 is the centenary of his death and it appears after years of neglect, his website will be re-launched. I hope so – I draw inspiration from his sketches and paintings. This slide show is only a sampling his art. If my photo editor worked, I would have used them as canvases to write quotes on. From my writing, and from others. But, like most things in my life, it doesn’t work properly, and I can’t write – only in minuscule letters and not in shapes – what I want.

I complain a lot. But when I’m this depressed, I can’t put the happy face mask on – it’s like magnets that dis-attract. The mask won’t stick. And I’m tired. Tired of fighting my depression demons, and tired of pretending they aren’t there. I’ve spent a life-time pretending.

Back to Waterhouse. I hope this slide show works – it’s my manic monday gift of art. Of vision. Of my inspiration. If you read my heroine fantasy, I think you’ll recognize the images, not only because I used them as illustration, but because they are within the stories, too.

This is a replica of the slide show that went with the original post. For some reason, I can’t reblog between my blogs. So I cut and pasted the text and tried to make the slide show again.  Same flavour I hope 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.


As for the rest of the day (til late afternoon) another one of pain. Shopping at Home Depot – always an experience. Freeze rain, freezing drizzle, then just rainy drizmal 2nd day of 2017.

Time for a nap. More later?

(c) Lorraine

journaling day 3: 01.01.17


Did all sorts of investigations into adding a blog to an existing blog – used to be able to now seems difficult. Did learn how to make a blog private, and invite viewers. I don’t know if anyone would want to read my inner rantings and wordless days.

Struggling with food all day – finally gave into a muffin, but that just stretched the stomach out more. Not eating causes horrible pains, eating causes pains and the feeling of my skin getting stretched. Why feels like always manic – always urges unmet.

Pain bad in jaw again. Either increase dose of tegretol, get bp down for Novocain or beg for pain medications. Get tooth fixed to help, but deep, never ending pain just won’t go away. Made me age (along with back and leg pain) 5 to 10 years in 2. Holds me back.

I can’t take another year of nothing – can’t take another year of me. Not the isolated, worthless, useless life I lead – doing nothing – not even going for walks or doing yoga. 

Getting too sad. Nothing day. Tired again to tidy up – few boxes up to the attic. Mostly slept and ate. Usual day. Pain a 9 most of the time. Now crossing over to other side. Wonder if moist heating pad I ordered will make any difference. Pain eats at my jaw bone. Eats at my brain.

Journaling Day 2 31.12.16



Considering getting another blog that is password protected so I can really spill my guts if the object is to let loose all the motions and emotions of the day. Hard to do if it’s in a semi-public space. Even a new blog with new pseudo is dangerous as I can slip up and give myself away.

Trip to the mall was a waste of time – had to try on stupid too small bras and see my gut in all it’s ugliness in a full length mirror – 40 inches and it won’t go down. Only out in front, like I swallowed a mis-shapened basketball.

In the bipolarsphere, I’ve been binging, I know, I fight the urge to eat junk and salt every minute. I want to drink – but I’m not, and I want to spend money. I’m spending some but putting back a lot of stuff before the check out. It’s the horrible time when I’m manic and depressed – what the shrinks say can’t happen but does. I’m looking for sometime to raise my mood – food, stuff, hope like in a DIY project I’ll never DYI.

Seems like I spend all my time fighting something and I’m so tired of it. Tired of always being on the outside, fighting to get it. Fighting to stay on a diet of some sort. Fighting the voices. Fighting food, self-image, binging. I want to drink – I can taste the cider or the wine. As a high-functioning alcoholic, I’m very particular about what I drink.

Tried to tidy-up today, but got defeated by the vastness of it. That’s what always happens now – everything seems so vast, I can’t begin because there is just so much. I can’t see the tiny corner, I can only see the four shelves. Open the bin, see the mess, and close it – unable to strategize how to fix it.

Just like there is too much to say about how I feel today to write down. I don’t have the words, gone with my hair and brain cells. Gone with the Wind – and I never had Scarlett’s 18 inch waist to fret about, nor Tara to go home to.

Sure enough, the GERD wheezies are coming on. I had lunch and a coffee this afternoon – too much. My stomach can only handle coffee in the morning then supper – an more than that or earlier than evening makes the wheezies come. I hate that asthmatic feeling that takes me back to my childhood of getting asthma like symptoms at the tail end of a cold or with really bad allergies like true hay fever. Brings back the taunts and other baggage. When you didn’t have a happy childhood, every memory is smeared with shit of some kind. Holds some darkness within it. I often wonder what it’s like to have fond memories of growing up. Does it help or hinder how that person is now?

Tired too. Drugs make me tired. Never really sleeping makes me tired. Life makes me tired. Writing this makes me tired. So enough for today. Or for now.