The Glade 4.0

Ugggh. I feel like I'm half-awake, half-asleep - one foot caught in the shadowy door of dreams. It doesn't help that I was once again unable to sleep worth a damn last night. I don't think I really got to sleep until about 3am, and I'm pretty sure I woke up several times in the middle of the night. It gets hard to tell, anymore.

It also doesn't help that my dreams were exceedingly ... unnerving. There were dreams of inexpressible beauty; longing for something untouchable and just out of reach, or mere tastes of pure happiness, cruelly dispensed, like a succubus, only to be yanked away by the vicious inconstancy of unconsciousness. I know I dreamed that was I concert pianist who had discovered a work of music of such exquisite workmanship that it made the heart stand still just to hear it. It was like and yet unlike to any music I'd ever heard before. It was extremely difficult to play, but I had toiled for months on end to master it -- a labor of lave. But when the moment of truth was upon me and I was to finally share it for the world to hear, I found myself suddenly struck musically "dumb" and unable to play. Everything came out twisted and wrong, and I had to walk away in shame.

Oscillations.

Then there were dreams of abject horror. I was myself, but ... not myself. Like a spectator along for the ride in someone else's a head. A woman. She was being chased by an enormous demon, towering over nearby buildings. She was fleeing from it in her car, and it was bent by pure malice and revenge. It wanted to know where she had taken them ... where she had hidden the girls...children. I'm not sure what this meant, but somehow not knowing exactly how they figured into its terrible plans made the demands all the more terrible. It tore through the roof of her car, clutching and grasping for them, but they were not there.

And through it all was the impression that it, too, was terrified of something. But the worst of it all was knowing that he was not always like this. He was once her brother, corrupted and transformed into this ... thing by God-knows-what. The feeling of abject mortal terror is difficult to describe.

The feeling of these dreams still gnaws at me, even now. And the ones before that, and the ones before that, and the ones before ... Well, you get the idea. Some of them I won't even describe here; not just because I can't, but because they feel too real. Too personal.

But in the end, all this is only a passing distraction. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change this incessant feeling that I'm half-dead. My brain feels like a ton a bricks. Thoughts like bullets in molasses. All is a dream-like haze. Nothing pierces through the grey anymore. I can sometimes feel passing amusement, but it isn't even real amusement. And even this is fleeting and becoming rarer. I find myself caring less and less about things. I don't even enjoy the things I used to enjoy, even if it was only in a limited fashion. I don't even want them anymore. I don't want anything.

I sit here at work, and I hate every moment of it, just wishing I could make it home -- to get away from it all. Away from all the people, and the prying eyes, and this game of having to pretend that I'm okay. Away from this hammer that pounds the life out of me by inches. But then I get home and I realize that there's nothing that makes me happy here, either. There nothing that I even want. I think of all the future possibilities, even the ones that I think would make me happy, and there's just ... nothing. Nothing at all. Only a sick feeling of emptiness. I've lost desire itself.

It's not the medication that's doing this to me. But neither is it helping. I'm at triple the original dose now, and have been for about a month. I've been on this 4 or 5 months now, and if I was going to see some major improvement from it, it would have happened by now. But the fog is unmoved. I don't feel any different now than I did then. And it isn't just "feeling" in the emotional sense. My emotions are merely paint on a canvas. And yes, the painting is effected by it all, but there's something wrong with the canvas itself. The warp and weft of my mind have become twisted and confused. I don't know what it is. I can't name it. I can't even describe it. Even the sense are dulled. The input is coming in clearly. The output is working right, either. My I/O bus is clogged or ... I don't know what.

I just know that I want to scream at someone, "THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY BRAIN!". I want to someone to hear me. I want someone to believe me. On my worst days, I wish I could project this state onto the entire world. Crush them all under this weight. Let them know the palpable reality of it; to walk not just a mile, but a thousand miles in my shoes and then let them measure it against my 100,000. "This. Is. What. It. Feels. Like. TO. BE. DEAD! Now tell me that I just need to *want* to get better. Tell me that I should just think positively. Tell me that I should just take this magic pill and I'll start to feel better. Tell me that this just feels like an emotional problem, to you! Tell me these things, if you can even breathe under this suppressive distortion field!"

I don't like that part myself, but it's getting harder and harder to control it. I've lived with this for so long. It's burning away all the part of me that was human, and I JUST WANT SOME ANSWERS, DAMN YOU! Is that really so much to ask?!? I don't think that depression is my problem. It's a problem, but it's not the problem. There is something deeper and more fundamentally broken, here. I can feel it in the marrow of bones, but no one listens. I need to know what it is, because I don't know how to fight this anymore. I've tried therapy ad nauseum, and drugs ad nauseum (sometimes all too literally), and I've screamed and begged and prayed to God more times than you can know for some measure of relief. But not of it has worked.

As for God, well, I can make him do anything he doesn't want to do. It isn't that I've lost faith, it's just ..... I've asked and seeked and knocked until there was nothing left. I'm all out of asking, seeking and knocking. There's nothing left. And I just can't do this anymore. Some would say he's not listening. Some would say I just don't have enough faith. Maybe so. But this is all the faith I've got and there ain't no more. If that isn't enough for God, then, well...here we are. Whether I'm just not good enough or he's just not inclined to lend a hand makes little practical difference at this point.

I'm at a similar state of impasse with psychological and pharmacological approaches. No drug I've tried so far seems to have any noticible positive benefit for me, and I've been a lot of them. And talking is just ... talking. We go around in circles but nothing is ever really resolved. Nothing really changes or gets better, and I still really don't have any answers.

I don't know what to do. I don't even know why I'm posting this. Sorry.

_________________
Sail forth! steer for the deep waters only!
Reckless, O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me;
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

I can identify with much of your feelings, if not with the same level of intensity. Your post made me think of Pink Floyd.

Comfortably Numb

I think that many people share some level of these feelings. Like you're trapped somehow. Unhappy with what you're doing now, what your life is, but don't really know how to change because most of all you don't know what it is that you want. You combine diversion after diversion to try and make yourself feel better, but always somehow it doesn't last.

I describe the feeling as being disconnected. You look around and find other people enjoying their time watching football, or happy at their work, or seeming content, and I have such a hard time relating to them most of the time. I don't find the topics interesting, or they seem to pointless. I've gotten good at putting up a front and feigning interest or similar, but in the end that's all it is.

What is particularly troubling, is that in some situations, the things that I'm feigning interest in are things I've sincerely enjoyed in the past. Which sends me down the path of wondering wtf happened to me...

I wish I had the answers for you man, but I don't. But if it helps, know that I'm searching for them too.

I also feel the way that you feel. Social interactions at work are stale, I don't know any of these people and I don't have the energy or desire to want to get to know them on any particular level. Things I enjoyed in the past are dull and lifeless. I have no dreams or aspirations.

There is something inherently broken with the way that society exists today. We all walk around in a fog of our own lives, more attached to machines than the people that operate them. We are measured by our facebook friends lists or how often we post on message boards. We've lost connection to the world around us.

Know that you're not alone.

_________________
"Once we realize that imperfect understanding is the human condition, there is no shame in being wrong, only in failing to correct our mistakes."
- George Soros

I'd like to see you describe an acid trip.

http://images.google.com/images?q=zdzislaw%20beksinski

Although I guess I wouldn't really know. Something tells me he did, though

_________________
Sail forth! steer for the deep waters only!
Reckless, O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me;
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

Stathol do you find your mind recoiling from issues you don't want to think about. I don't mean consciously thinking, "Not going there" but your mind actively averting your train of thought? To the point where it feels like ADD?

I really need to do something about X Situation, but what? I need to let the dog out, wonder what is on TV right now? Tomorrow is going to... wtf? No I need to deal with X need a list of things to try to resolve it, is the chicken thawed? I wonder if there is a sale on Tide....

Forever looping unable to get to the issue because your own mind is kicking you off course?

_________________

Move out of your parents house and try getting involved in some volunteer work.

How many people at church have you shared your condition with? You've dropped off AIM, so I never hear from you anymore. Not having heard from you, I haven't been praying for you in quite a while (partially my bad too).

What means of help have you envisioned God might provide? Is it possible you've been resistant to ways God did try to help you because you thought they'd make you uncomfortable?

_________________
The Dude abides.

Maybe someone slipped you a roofie.

_________________

Do know you are not alone, I live my rollercoaster ride daily.

_________________


Dream as if you'll live forever...
...Live as if you'll die tomorrow

Vivere Senza Rimpianti

Blargh. That was an exceptionally bad day and I was less than coherent, having only slept something like 10 hours over the last couple nights. I probably sound like a complete lunatic.

A lot of that is just venting in the face of an increasing residue of frustration and resentment. I'm tired of the way that it feels inside my head 24/7. I've never known anything so relentless. It's a death-by-inches; like being pinned between the immovable object and the irresistible force. In the end, it really doesn't matter which wins.

I'm frustrated because I've gone through at least 20 different drugs at various stages, and none of them have particularly put a dent in this...thing, whatever it is. It still feels like my mind is stuck in 1st gear. I push, and I push, and I push but it won't go anywhere. Everything is slowed, retarded. It takes so much effort and mental energy to force it into any kind of motion; you have no idea.

I'm frustrated because I keep doing this whole "talking therapy" bit, too, even though it doesn't ever seem to do any good. And I just can't shake this nagging feeling that I'm not really receiving ideal care in that department to begin with. I'm looking into another psych right now, but after at least 4 disappointments in that area, I'm not exactly optimistic. I can't even really tell you what's "wrong" with my current therapy, but it is.

No, not like that. But it might help to know that there two classifications of ADD: ADHD-PI (Predominately Inattentative) and ADHD-H (predominately Hyperactive). There's also ADHD-C, which is the combined type, indicating a mix of both. There is a somewhat new school thought that the purely inattentive variety (people who strongly meet the criteria for ADHD-PI, but meet none of the criteria for ADHD-H), may be a distinct neurological condition largely unrelated to ADHD-H/ADHD-C. I believe the University of South Carolina has been doing a lot research in this area, actually. Some have termed this subset "Sluggish Cognitive Tempo", it appears to have a lot in common in dysexecutive syndrome, and may be rooted in some kind of working memory problem. This is somewhat odd, because dysexecutive syndrome is typically the result of a brain injury.

The more that I've read on the topic, the more pieces seem to fall into place. I'm wary of making any kind of self-diagnosis, but everything fits, and it explains a lot. For what it's worth, I was professionally diagnosed with ADHD-PI (with no symptoms whatsoever of the hyperactive type) about 10 years ago. The thing about ADHD-PI/SCT/whatever is that it's not typical of what people would think of as ADD/ADHD. People who fall into that category are not necessarily even easily distracted. They exist in a perpetually "under-aroused state".

Perhaps I'm just on the extreme end of that spectrum. And maybe that's compounded even further by the anhedonia from depression. At this point, it's very much a chicken-and-the-egg kind of scenario, but I'm growing increasingly convinced that my problems with depression, though of the Major classification, may ultimately be rooted in some other, deeper cause. ADHD-PI/SCT may very well be part of that.

As well, I more than slightly suspect that there may be another undiagnosed comorbid condition in the mix. Specifically (again at the risk of self-diagnosis), the DSM-IV literature on social anxiety disorder fits uncomfortably well. For that matter, so do most of the criteria for dependent personality disorder, which frankly kind of freaks me out. Personality disorders are **** up. More so than mood disorders, anyway. Then again, there's no small amount of suspicion that dependent personality disorder and social anxiety disorder may actually be the same underlying disorder, expressed in slightly different ways. So if I match strongly for SAD, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised if I also meet most of the criteria for DPD. It may ultimately be a red herring, and there are some key elements of DPD that I diverge from.


As much as I'd like to, that really wouldn't be a good idea at this point.


Some know, some don't. I haven't been on AIM because Bitlbee has been horked for awhile. I can't figure out how to fix it, and I all of the CLI AIM clients for *nix drive me crazy for one reason or another. Irssi FTW. L2IRC, newb.


You name it, I've asked for it. And at this point I'd cut off my own arms, if that was what it would take. I might even find that less unpleasant than therapy...

_________________
Sail forth! steer for the deep waters only!
Reckless, O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me;
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

Why not?

_________________
The Dude abides.