Trigger Warnings – Mentions of death, self-harm, suicide, cannibalism
British people, calm down, I know to us it is “Yo-Yo In A Lift” but that didn’t have the same ring to it. In case the title leaves something to be desired, this is a personal post, insert the standard apology for doing more personal blogging than political or topical stuff, lord knows my view stats are taking the bullet for that one, the past week has seen a steady decline in my reader base but when I have an agenda, I don’t want to make a hack job of it by blogging about it when I don’t feel up to it so tonight is some more personal stuff.
My mood has been fluctuating again. Remember recently I did a post about being really content with my life and having this sense of well-being? And remember how I enjoyed my birthday celebrations and stuff and was happy then? Yeah well I feel flat now, perhaps there’s more to my mood issues than I thought, it had previously just been a constant crushing sadness but now it temporarily vanishes and clears away to blue skies before coming back as one hell of a storm. I’ve decided as of next week I shall keep a mood diary listing my mood each hour, on the hour, and what I was doing at the time, see if I notice any patterns and I’ll take this journal to a doctor, who will probably dismiss it as needing more sleep or a job I enjoy more than the one I have but hey, worth a shot, maybe one day one doctor will actually admit there is something wrong and help.
I’ve been having some weird dreams lately, some are pleasant and normal enough but some are very disturbing. Last night, I dreamt I asked someone out, won’t say who, but I was so overjoyed they said yes that I wasn’t looking where I was going and stepped out in front of a bus. Yes, Doctor Who-ey I know, your dreams are influenced by that kind of thing but anyway, I didn’t wake up. Well I did, I woke up in the dream and found myself in a rundown abandoned military building with some friends and strangers, who told me the place was safe except for the West Wing, which is full of cannibals and the only reason the cannibals are kept at bay is the sacrifice of one of the group once a week. We couldn’t escape, we had no weapons, we had limited supplies and we were all scared. I dreamt I was being told to go give the cannibals their sacrifice, they’d chosen someone, but when we turned up there the sacrifice attacked me and locked me in the wing with them so I was eaten alive. Then I woke up for real, confused, horrified and nervously lying still in bed for half an hour.
I do not self-harm, I kicked that habit when I was fourteen (Roughly, can’t remember exactly) and I don’t contemplate suicide. I looked into it, it can mean either a crushing realisation the pursuit of happiness through wealth is impossible or it can be a metaphor for feeling overwhelmed by sexual desires. I don’t sit well with those ideas, the wealth thing sounds silly and my sex drive hasn’t been this low in a long time, the desires I have in my heart aren’t lustful and depraved, I desire someone to be with, to laugh with, to hold close, to enjoy a relationship with, not a fuckfest. I’m still jaded about all that though, I see a pretty face now and then but otherwise I’m resigned to being single for some time now, I accept that fact
Anyway, my other dreams have mostly been along two themes – my own death or a new romantic relationship. The romantic dreams are fairly standard, they’re clearly subconscious, well… conscious fantasies playing themselves out but the death dreams? I’ve been eaten, shot, hit by traffic, stabbed, pushed off a cliff, drowned, it’s disturbing that I’m dreaming about such things and it’s one main reason I don’t sleep very well lately, I’m not sure what awaits me, a dream so perfect I don’t want to wake up or a nightmare so horrific I’m scared straight for half an hour when I wake up
I realise this is deeply personal and very disturbing, I’ll have to look into professional help I can afford but I need to talk about this stuff but actually forming words on how I feel and think is incredibly hard, I’ve never been very good at it. I struggle to express emotions through my own personal behaviour, I can barely cry unless it is something overwhelming and even when I lose people I care about, my face doesn’t budge an inch, I haven’t wept for a loss in so long. I’ve heard it’s a common male issue of being pressured to be tough, so tough you struggle to allow yourself to be vulnerable and being a boy who lost a lot as a child whilst being the elder brother of two young boys and having male role models who were never shown to be weak, I guess I’ve internalised the constant rule of never admitting to weakness or need so the written word is how I do just that. Heck, even romantically, I struggle to say the words out loud and some feelings have remained unspoken forever because I just can’t face the rejection and humiliation
Urgh, that was a huge emotional dump and after all that, I feel no better really. I’ll keep this diary as of Monday and track my mood up until the New Year then see a doctor about it, see what they say. Here’s hoping they’ll take action this time