Brief Catch-Up

[handful_ofdust]

So...I guess I should probably mention that I'm going to be "at" the Rue Morgue Festival of Fear (for one panel). It's the "Literary Horror Round-table", and it's at 5:00 PM on Saturday the 23rd in Room #713B. I'll bring along copies of everything I've currently got to bring along. See you there, maybe.

Meanwhile, if I sound a bit depressed, it's frankly because I am. Though I'm finally, officially over the last of the seeg, I still haven't been able to write much of anything except bits and pieces of poetry (which I don't think I'll be posting here anymore, for professional reasons), while August is A) almost over and B) filling up fast. I've also just learned that Cal does have yeast, so we'll have to further restrict his diet in ways which control Candida--this necessitates adding a whole lot of various new bullshit to an already-difficult routine, plus having to soon go up to back o' beyond to spend money we don't have on supplements and drugs. On the one hand, the IBI does seem to be helping somewhat, but on the other, it's exacerbating the same behaviors we're trying to modify to a virtual fever-pitch; Jesus God, if I ever meet the people who composed the Little Einsteins theme, I'm going to punch them right in the face. And whatever: I'm fat, anhedonic and tired, boo fucking hoo, poor me. Much as I know the immediacy of what I'm feeling right now is most probably hormonal, it's pretty exhausting nonetheless.

What it all boils down to is that (not-so-)suddenly, I find myself permanently trapped in a jobless, anticreative, time-eating role as chief enabler and handler to a child whose future, personal charm aside, often seems rather grim. Mom tells me not to project, and I nod, smiling politely; I constantly strive to be less selfish, less self-obsessed. To let go of the fact that I don't get to shower most of the time, that my whole life is about an endless roundelay of quotidian chores done half-assedly at best, that I can't concentrate enough to enjoy things which might distract me from the rest of this crap. That I never see friends, that I know damn well I'm really boring to be with, and that if I tell people what I'm actually thinking, they'll (quite rightly) avoid me.

And: It makes me want to get on a treadmill and run 'til I puke. It makes me want to drink. It makes me want to walk out the door one afternoon while Cal's sleeping, and never come back. Etcetera.

Not that I'm going to do any of the above, obviously...

So. Feel free to ignore; I both expect nobody to actually care about this boil I seem periodically driven to lance here in semi-public, and genuinely believe nobody should care. Like I said to Steve the other night, I really have no excuse--Hell, Cal'll be Autistic the rest of his life, no matter how I choose to deal with it (or not). In the final analysis, no one has any control over anything I do but me. Everything else is just equally boring bullshit.

Comments

[mahkia.livejournal.com]

Oh honey. *hugs* I'm sure I can't say much that'll help the situation, though I know all too well how it is to feel depressed and hopeless. If you need a shoulder or an ear, however, I'm here.

[harriet-spy.livejournal.com]

All of these things are things you are allowed to feel, you know.

[sarcobatus.livejournal.com]

Gemma, you sound seriously depressed. I can say this because I've been seriously depressed for months, but finally got my ass over the doc's for medication. Cal is not neurotypical, and I'll wager you also have a different type of brain chemistry than what others might refer to as "normal". But to hell with "normal". When I'm under prolonged stress my serotonin levels drop, and I end up with all my neurotransmitters getting wonky. Every symptom you described screams "Depression!" You need to see your doctor.

Yes, Cal will be an autist for the rest of his life. But he will improve with time and treatment. You caught it early, and the prognosis is good, with early treatment.

I've been on meds now for about six weeks, and I'm feeling much better. I finally found a decent doctor, who's ordered up the right type of EEG for me. The one I just had was a joke. In fact, that doctor was big joke, a very big, bad joke.

Get to your doctor, get some help. You don't sound good.

And people do, emphasis here, do, care about you.

XXXXX

[mahkia.livejournal.com]

Since it was mentioned here, I will as well. I too have been on antidepressants for about...hrm... two years now? Something like that. It helps. I went through therapy too, for a few months. That helps too. Don't ever worry about being alone. &hearts

[baggyeyes]

At the risk of sounding like someone who says 'me, too!', well . . . me too.

The advice about the doctor, while you may dislike having to make another trip to the doctor, is good advice. Don't put it off. I wasted far too much time 'putting it off', and now I'm having a hell of a time fighting my way out.

You sound like you have a lot of good people around you. Don't forget that. And take your friend's advice.

[moon-custafer.livejournal.com]

As you know well, the movies lie - love does not cure anything.

It is, however, a damn good motivation for maintenance (including self-maintenance).

What everybody else said.

[agincourtgirl.livejournal.com]

((((HHUUUGSSS))))

There's a big difference between looking after yourself and being self-obsessed, and I would say you have to look after yourself or you will run out of whatever it is you need to give to others, or want to give, for that matter. If this means going to the doctor and saying "I'm depressed" then I would say yes, do it. I did it five years ago, and after some good therapy (no drugs) I improved - not overnight, but I definitely improved. I should have done it ten years earlier, but didn't know any better. I lucked out as my doctor is a qualified psychiatric guy as well as a medical doctor, but any reasonable doctor should be able to help you out. (I first saw my doctor during the SARS epidemic fallout so we both wore masks the whole time. I didn't care though, as I really needed the help.)

More (((HHHUUGGSS)))

[sovay]

If they are at all useful: *hugs*

What you write is not boring.

[ebcdic.livejournal.com]

i haven't been around your journal long, but i can tell you that you're not boring.

to be honest, i don't think i'd have the strength to do what you do on a daily basis. it's pretty amazing that you have such creativity despite so much exhaustion.

to echo just about everyone above, do think about seeing a doctor. sometimes therapy helps without the meds. speaking as someone who has been on and off meds for seven years now, i can tell you that it takes awhile to find the right combination. i just found mine like a year ago (although i'm bipolar and the fact that it's only took six years is like a miracle). i do talk therapy too and it's nice sometimes to just have someone to vent to who isn't invested in the situation beyond your well-being, you know?

*HUGS*