I’ve spent most of the past four+ years letting fear dictate my life. It has controlled what I do, what I think, how I feel, and my relationships with other people.
Recently I found out that I am pregnant. A new fear has come up. Ironically, it is the fear of passing the fear disease to my child.
Overcoming this seemingly all-encompassing fear that has ruled my life for too long has never been more urgent.
From now on, I am going to put more focus on things that help me become stronger and better, as opposed to fueling the fire of giving attention to the fear itself.
“It may look as if the situation is creating the suffering, but ultimately this is not so – your resistance is.” – Eckhart Tolle
I discovered an amazing radio show recently called Invisibilia. There is an episode called Fearless and I highly recommend it. At the end of the show, they gave a formula for fear. It is so simple, and because of its truth and simplicity makes so much sense.
Woah. What a crazy few days it’s been. As the title says, I’m pregnant. Wasn’t expecting that. I am pro-choice, but am not considering abortion for myself, so, I guess I might be having a kid. It’s a lot to take in. And I’m freaking out especially because I don’t know how I’m going to cope with pregnancy/raising a child while dealing with the panic/agoraphobia, etc.
But on one hand, I have kept thinking that it could be a really good thing. I am no longer the most important person…. So, I guess I’ll just take it one day at a time and see what happens. Any advice would be amazing. Thank you. ❤ Artemis
Wine, bubble bath, candles, chain smoking and Nina Simone all at the same time. That’s what I did this evening. It sounds nice, right? I thought the idea sounded fabulous after the frantic day I had.
When I say frantic, I don’t mean I was running around like mad. My insides were. Panicked, trapped, afraid, restless and in one of the most heightened states of despondency I’ve been in in quite some time.
I told my grandmother once that I was feeling depressed. She told me that she preferred the word despondent – so now I use the word despondent instead of depressed.
I’ve been listening to Pandora and trying to put Jaron Lanier’s distaste of algorithms out of my mind. Sure it’s depersonalizing, perhaps even somewhat dehumanizing but I don’t care right now.
A lyric from a song I don’t know that is playing just said, “I’m afraid to die.”
I’m not afraid to die.
I’m just anxious that I don’t die before finishing my book.
It’s the only thing I feel gives my life any meaning.
At least, gives my existence meaning.
Yet despite this fact, I feel I’m keeping my best ideas bottled up in my head.
They need to come out.
I’m not procrastinating – not really.
Maybe I am.
I’m not sure. Either way, I don’t think I would still be alive without feeling that sense of purpose.
Maybe I’m afraid that if I do one great thing, that will outlive me, I won’t need to be here anymore.
So I put more than enough effort into research and brainstorming.
Give me 48 hours and I can finish a fucking novel.
I type 240 words per minute and my brain is never short of ideas.
But I stop myself because sometimes it feels like it’s all I have, and if I finish off my only passion that seems to give me a sense of purpose and meaning, then what’s left?
Stagnance, or maybe another idea. I don’t know.
Either way, I self-sabotage the speed of the work. But I still keep chipping away at it.
Anyway, the bath really was a good idea. Maybe the wine wasn’t the best idea. I don’t know why other than the fact that I don’t feel sober. I guess things could be worse.
It’s just that most of my waking hours are spent feeling fucked up and wanting to ground myself back into reality. So I don’t like not feeling sober.
I just have no fucking idea what I’m doing with myself other than whittling away at that novel and wishing I was making more progress, but letting the feeling of fear stop me. Because when I’m done, I’ll need something else to justify my existence. I wish that I could be satisfied with jsut being, not incessantly questioning my existence.
In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, “so it goes.”
P.S. I just announce I was done writing, but in all honesty I would like to add that I wish I had more wine.
I should be at the ER right now. My mom got taken in tonight. There were lots of ambulances, and she had to go. I feel like I should be there. I can’t believe that I am so…. so messed up that I can’t go to my mom when she’s in the hospital.
I don’t know what to do.
Everyone that is normally around me is at the hospital with her.
I’m still not sure what’s wrong with her.
She keeps sending me really illegible texts, but the gist of them is asking if I am coming.
I want to go.
I really do.
I want to be there.
But I’m afraid that if I go, I’ll just end up panicking (probably before I even get there after driving a few blocks away from the house), that I’ll just be a bigger source of stress.
Or I’ll need to be checked in from freaking out so much, from the panic and terror.
Not to mention the ER was the place that initially set off my months of being unable to walk out the front door. It was the event that sort of put all of this in motion (it was bad before, but not this crippling).
I’m terrified of the ER. I’m terrified of everything.
And so I can’t be there for my mom.
I really love her.
I hope she’s okay.
I wish I was there with her so she could know how much I love her.
Thank you for reading ❤ Artemis
This is a song that my mom loves very much. She’s taken me to see The Psychadelic Furs quite a few times. Among many other 80’s new wave bands. The last show we went to before Patti Smith was Simple Minds in Hollywood early last year.
I had a panic attack today, at home. I was relieved that it didn’t last a horribly long time. I don’t even know what set it off, other than I had an upset stomach and was kind of stressed out from a conversation I’d had with my mother earlier in the day.
I was just sitting on my bed, realized I was hungry, went to go find food, and just got really confused, nauseous and dizzy. I kind of stumbled around the kitchen, breathing quickly and feeling that awful terror feeling rising up in my being. I was so caught off guard by the feeling, that I just went into instant panic mode.
I began to feel so unreal.
My mind started looping, wondering why I’m a human being, why human beings exist, etc. etc.
Existential spiral.
Wondering what my purpose on the planet is.
Wondering if I’m losing my mind.
Spiraling, in loops, in circles.
Too many questions, not enough answers.
I ate some lentil soup, and played Tetris to try to make myself stop thinking.
It worked.
I calmed down.
I don’t like that I had a panic attack today, but I am glad that I was able to make it go away with some effort.
I managed to get out of the house today. I went to an area that’s only a few blocks from the house. I was able to go into a vintage clothing store I’ve been wanting to go to for a long time. I bought an adorable cropped leather jacket that looks perfect with my corsets. I went to the fabric store and bought material to make new curtains and a mini-skirt. My boyfriend and I got coffee and bagels, and even went to a car lot to look at cars for me.
After a few hours I started getting anxious. My boyfriend wanted to go to a music store that was a few blocks away. He wanted to walk, and then I got really anxious. I started thinking about every possible scenario that things could go wrong. And how if we walked, we wouldn’t be able to quickly get back to the house. So I said that I wanted to drive, but then I started thinking about any red lights we might hit on the way, and started panicking and had to go home.
I was able to recover quickly after we got back to the house, and we walked to a park a block away and let my dog run around and threw the ball for her. It was really nice. I haven’t been able to do that in months. I haven’t been able to do any of that in months.
My boyfriend still wanted to go to the music store, and kept asking if I was okay to go yet… I kept trying to get it together to go, and finally thought I felt okay to go. When we got in the car, the car was going for about five seconds before I got a huge, overpowering jolt of panic and told him I didn’t think I could do it. He stopped the car, let me out, and said he’d see me in a bit.
Even though I did all of that stuff today (which is absolutely huge for me, and I haven’t been able to do those things in months, since May or June), I feel really upset with myself for not being able to go to the music store. I wanted to go, but I just got too panicked and terrified. I also feel embarrassed and ashamed that I wasn’t able to go. When I got out of the car and walked back to my door, I just wanted to kick myself. It was so painful and shameful.
I know I made progress today, but it feels like my failure completely overshadows any progress that I did make. I feel like a complete letdown. I keep asking myself why I can’t just be normal, and why I can’t seem to just be able to do simple things like ride in the car down the street to go to a music store without feeling doom in the pit of my stomach, like the entire fucking world is going to come crashing down around me and end if I continue on, or get too far away from my house.
Thanks for reading.
Love always, Artemis.
And of course, music to go along with how I feel.
The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place – A Silver Mt. Zion
The past two days in a row, I attempted to leave the house quite unsuccessfully.
But tonight I left the house with my mom, and even went to a concert.
Not just any concert.
I saw a punk rock rock n’ roll legendary goddess.
I want to tell you who I saw, but I feel like it would give away where I am, and I’m still kind of apprehensive about giving *too many* details as to who I am and where I live. I guess it didn’t help that I uploaded a profile picture. And I’m starting to not really care who finds my blog. Not many people read it anyway.
But it was really nice. I did get panicky a few times. The concert was only a few blocks from my house, so it was within my general comfort range, which is very small. I had fun dancing, and I got to sing along to some amazing songs that I grew up with.
And I got a signed CD.
Fuck it, I saw Patti Smith tonight.
Hell yeah.
And she was incredible.
Maybe you’ve heard this one. Horses is my favorite album by her… and I got a signed CD. Thank you for reading ❤ Artemis
I woke up today in a surprisingly good mood. Perhaps all of the negative emotions from the previous evening were so overwhelming that I made a 180. Also, I woke up to a really clean house, which always makes me beam with happiness.
I feel like my outer environment is an extension of my inner environment.
I woke up to coffee, and started making a to-do list for things I want to get done. I was also very pleased with myself for waking up before noon. Hell, before the sunset.
I’m still going to attempt to go out tonight. Even though I don’t leave for 9 hours, I’m already putting together my outfit and figuring out how I’m going to do my makeup. Going through all my corsets and trying to find a good one.
I get apprehensive a lot when I go out every week. It’s like, punk/goth night… It’s nice because since I’ve been going so regularly I feel like I know most of the people who go every week… and when I get anxiety there I usually feel comfortable with the people around. I’ve made some connections with some people who understand anxiety and are very sweet. I also love dancing, and music. And I find that it’s difficult to get anxiety when I’m dancing with someone. My boyfriend and I usually swing dance. And they play music like The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Christian Death, etc… Maybe not swing dancing music, but fun to swing dance to regardless. And usually there’s an after party that goes ’til 6 AM. I’m okay with it depending on the location. It changes every week. I guess it’s nice that I’m still invited to parties and social events. I think it’s mainly because I’m dating who I’m dating. He’s such a social person. He’s closing in on around a thousand facebook friends, all people who he knows in person (not one for internet friends). I’ve still been having a hard time with social events with him, mainly because of the other women. I’m not usually a jealous person, but I find it incredibly rude/disrespectful/annoying when women confess their love for my boyfriend when, you know, I’m right there. And there’s this added feeling of feeling nervous about not going to social events with him… it’s not that I don’t trust him, I just don’t trust other women. And I’m not exaggerating when I say there’s a lot of them. And it’s blatant and uncomfortable. Also, he wasn’t interested in monogamy before we started dating. I only do monogamy, and it was a big deal for him to settle down and date someone monogamously. I think he’s happy with me. Although I think he wishes that I got out more and did more things with him… But I’m glad that I’ve known him for so long. About thirteen years. He knew me back when I used to be crazy and out doing everything all the time. Apparently he’s had a crush on me for that long, which I think is cute. But then, so did my last boyfriend. I think I’ve only dated people from my past these past few years because I don’t go out and meet anyone new.
But I am very happy with him. He’s really sweet to me, and I can tell he loves me. Although, he doesn’t function very well in a home environment, and I feel like I am constantly having to teach him things, like the difference between shampoo and conditioner. But it’s a kind of cute rock star style obliviousness that adds to his charm.
Anyway, I feel like I’m rambling on about it.
Today I hope I can be productive in the house, and cross off all the stuff on my to-do list. And I hope that I can have fun tonight and not melt down in a mess of panic.
Today tried to leave my house for the first time in a week. Initially, I was able to get out of the door – which was successful in itself.
We were going to my boyfriends friends house. He lives six blocks away or so – a girl was having a birthday party.
I think I made it five minutes before I started crying and had to leave.
I’m thankful that my boyfriend was so sweet about it.
I feel so dejected.
A failure.
The fear started to build in the car, when I looked up from picking out music and realized that we were not close to my house anymore. And we had to cross a bridge. I fucking hate bridges. They always give me these immediate jolts of panic that are hard to shake off.
Then when we got to the house, we were outside and it was cold, and I started worrying because I’ve been sick the past few weeks, and I felt dehydrated, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day and was tired because I spent about 8 hours doing major cleaning in the house.
I just wish I could be normal.
Go outside.
Go to a small get together and be able to not break down crying within five minutes because I can’t handle it because it’s not at my house.
I wish that I was better.
I feel so ashamed.
Embarassed.
This feeling is awful.
I’m not panicked anymore.
I still panicked even though I took a lot more medication than I normally would. The panic still was able to cross the barriers of benzo’s. Great.
I probably would have been fine if I had been drinking, but I really hate drinking, and I have been sick so didn’t want to make myself worse.
I’ve also been craving social interaction lately. I want to be out and about with people. I want to make new friends, and reconnect with old ones.What gives? Why can’t I just keep my shit together like everyone else?
I hate crying in front of people. I hate their pity. I don’t want to be pitied. I get so embarrassed. Now that I’m home, I just feel totally worthless and embarrassed, and I don’t want this to happen again! I’m supposed to go out tomorrow night, for my weekly outing… and the next night to a concert (which is only a block away from my house, which is amazing, and a rock n roll icon I’m overjoyed to see, but still afraid that I’ll have to leave). What gives? I know this isn’t who I am. This is NOT me. Anyway, thanks for listening. I’m going to leave you with the song that was able to calm me down on the drive back to my house.
Lately my house is never empty, but tonight I am alone. I have slightly irrational fears about being completely alone in my house. I think it stems from last June, when things were at their worst and I was in a constant state of not wanting to be alive because all of my waking moments were filled with the constant feeling of complete and utter terror. The kind of terror that kept me shaking all day, that I would wake up to first thing in the morning, constantly with me. I was living alone at the time, this was right after I had broken up with my boyfriend and had him move out. Then the terror hit a few weeks later. Also after getting the concussion. What I’m getting at, is I was terrified of being alone because I didn’t want to live anymore, but I also was terrified of dying. Kind of silly, I suppose.
Feeling like you can’t keep living…
And feeling like you must keep living…
But being so afraid of the terror that you no longer trust yourself to keep yourself alive…
I had a friend come stay with me. He was one of my best friends from childhood. A total shut in otaku. It was perfect. He just lived on my couch, marathoned anime and played video games all day. I didn’t feel like I needed constant companionship – just the reassurance that there was someone around. And that was perfect.
He moved out of state in August to go live with his dad. I am so grateful for the time he stayed with me.
After he left, my best friend actually flew across the country with her newborn baby to stay with me for a bit, she was so worried. I am grateful for the wonderful friends that I have, even if most of them aren’t even in my state. They know that I would do the same for them if I were better, and have done.
The friend who stayed with me from June to August tried to kill himself multiple times over the years. I was always the only person who would go to whatever hospital he was at and just hang out with him. I didn’t get mad at him, or scold him. I just tried to be a good friend, because I knew that he knew that what he had tried to do was wrong, and he was already beating himself up enough for it as it was, and didn’t need to hear anyone lecture him. Sometimes all we need is someone to try to make us laugh and treat us like we’re normal. Sometimes I think treating someone who’s having a hard time like they’re a normal person is the greatest kindness we can show to them. Those are the best friends, and I appreciate that my friends have done that for me.
My boyfriend just left, because he works the graveyard shift. Which is usually convenient, because I like knowing that my roommate is home and sleeping while he’s at work. But tonight she’s staying at her girlfriends house, so I’m here alone.
I guess I’m also afraid that something will happen to me. I’m not afraid of the house being broken into, or anything like that. I’m actually quite good in situations where my life or someone elses is actually at stake, or at least I’d like to think so.
Instead, I’m afraid that the terror will return and I’ll be alone.
That I won’t be able to handle it.
That it would be so awful that I’d prefer to simply stop living than continue to live like that.
The terror hasn’t struck in full force for quite a while now, which is quite a relief. I’ve had plenty of bouts of anxiety and anxiety attacks, but not full blown terrorizing panic attacks where I’m in that state of being completely outside of myself while painfully feeling too much. I think the terror got worse when I started to feel depressed and have these agonizing existential feelings at the same time.
I know I’ve been throwing the word existential around a lot in my blog.
Existentialism is a term applied to the work of certain late 19th- and 20th-century philosophers who, despite profound doctrinal differences, shared the belief that philosophical thinking begins with the human subject—not merely the thinking subject, but the acting, feeling, living human individual. In existentialism, the individual’s starting point is characterized by what has been called “the existential attitude”, or a sense of disorientation and confusion in the face of an apparently meaningless or absurd world. Many existentialists have also regarded traditional systematic or academic philosophies, in both style and content, as too abstract and remote from concrete human experience.
The article also says that Soren Kierkegaard was considered the first existentialist. I did not know this, but I have been reading quite a bit of him lately. I’ve been reading a large volume of his collected works, and am also almost done reading The Seducers Diary.
I’ve been reading quite a bit lately. I usually am reading a lot. I read more than anyone that I know. I also have more time on my hands than anyone else I know.
I’ve been enjoying Burning Your Boats – The collected Short Stories of Angela Carter. I also recently finished reading (nearly) ever book by Robert Greene. Including a book on fear that he co-wrote with 50 cent, but just reads as a Robert Greene book. I particularly enjoyed The Art of Seduction.
I’ve been reading Perks of Being a Wallflower with my boyfriend the past few days. We’ll take turns reading Charlie’s entries out loud to each other. I like to read out loud, and I do it a lot. Tonight I’m finishing up The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins.
I’ve also recently re-read Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, which is a favorite of mine. And I’ve been finishing (for the millionth time) The Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams. There are many more. I usually finish at least a handful of books every week. Sometimes I’ll simply read all day long if I’m not writing. I tend to devour books in a way that most people don’t tend to believe. They’ll look at my bookshelves and say, “you can’t have possibly read all of these books.” Usually I just smile and say, “I think there are a few up there I’ve been meaning to get around to.”
Anyway, back to what I was talking about at the beginning of this post.
The fear of being alone in the house.
Right.
I was surprised because the one thought that soothed me when I realized I was going to be alone, before going into full on panic mode, was that I could simply write a blog about how I was feeling. Somehow, that thought made me feel better. It gave me something solid to do to work around it. That’s helpful. I’m beginning to think that starting this blog may be a positive thing for me, because it gives me an outlet. Even if no one ever reads it, at least it’s helpful for me, and ultimately I suppose that’s what really matters when you’re trying to work through all of your mental issues.
I still haven’t given up hope that I will get better.
I haven’t given up that I’ll travel the world.
Or be able to go places by myself.
Or be able to go places.
In general.
I don’t think it’s helpful that I continue to compare myself to a somebody that I used to be in the past.
Because the somebody that I used to be was recklessly spontaneous and would get on a plane at the drop of a hat, drive cross country for no apparent reason other than impulsiveness, and get into all kinds of mischief. Basically, I was the polar opposite of the person that I am in this moment.
The person I used to be, was the kind of person who would decide at three in the morning to go walk to the ocean, and strip down to nothing and jump in.
The person I am now is terrified of walking alone, can sometimes walk when someone is with me, but usually not at night, and the few attempts I’ve made at going to the beach, I’ve been unable to walk as far as the water.
I can hear the waves crashing right now.
I love the sound, but it’s also painful to
hear them, so close, yet so far away.
“Do not think I do not realise what I am doing. I am making a composition using the following elements: the winter beach; the winter moon, the ocean; the women; the pine trees; the riders; the driftwood; the shells; the shapes of darkness and the shapes of water; and the refuse. These are all inimical to my loneliness because of their indifference to it. Out of these pieces is inimical indifference, I intend to represent the desolate smile of winter which, as you may have gathered, is the smile I wear.”
– Burning Your Boats, The Collected Short Stories by Angela Carter
I’ve noticed that I tend to like to find a song that somewhat explains how I feel. I like ending my words with music. I think I’ll keep doing that.
This is one of my favorite songs. It seems to fit my mood at the moment.
Oh no love, you’re not alone
You’re watching yourself but you’re too unfair
You got your head all tangled up but if I could only
Make you care
Oh no love, you’re not alone
No matter what or who you’ve been, no matter when or where you’ve seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I’ve had my share, I’ll help you with the pain, you’re not alone
Artemis Unfiltered 