Long before Derrida and deconstruction, the Talmud said, quite sagely,
"We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are."
As far as I'm concerned, every word I feel worthy of jotting down is the complete and total truth in its own way. Unfortunately for me.
Some catastrophic situations invite clarity, explode in split seconds. You smash your hand through a window-pane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like a cancer: At first its tumourous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye, and the one day -- wham! -- there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your heart, and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to kill you. Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and in your mind, a computer program for total negativity will build in your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen, and the one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black dot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live.
This journal is a semi-private, mostly true account of that from my own point of view. Watch my mood swings rise and fall like the lines of a sad ballad and think what you may.
I'm in love.
I see things that aren't really there. I find it hard to keep my problems to myself. I have an empty stomach. I wish I was rich by default. I want an ice cream cone. I have freckles on my nose, shoulders, toes and everywhere in between. I hate pretension. I miss my home. I fear change, but love it at the same time. I hear you call out my name. I feel topsy-turvy. I smell like food. I crave affection. I search for an answer. I wonder what it would be like to have x-ray vision. I regret nothing and everything at the same time. I love sand between my toes. I long for familiarity. I always prick myself with the needle. I listen to good music. I believe that this is as good as it gets. I win your love. I am Kathryne - that's all I'm able to be. I care too much/too little. I always get into trouble. I am crazy&abnormal. I believe that everything will work itself out ...eventually. I have an active imagination. I cringe my teeth in my sleep sometimes. I dance whenever I can. I sing in the shower. I cry when I don't want to. I learn things the hard way. I do not floss daily. I succeed because I am driven. I fail because I lack motivation. I fight because I feel small. I write constantly. I give money to charity. I confuse everyone, including myself. I never drink orange juice after brushing my teeth ...anymore.
My name is Kat, and I live in a small college town in the armpit of New Brunswick. I go to school a little more than part-time and I work a little less than part time. I'm good at all things artsy, but I still have to idea what a cosine is. Sometimes I suffer from vertigo and I'm innocent, but not as naive as I used to be. There is so much beauty in the world that I can never seem to quite catch my breath. True beauty, true life, is like getting the wind knocked out of you, like laying in the snow or the grass or the sand in the sunshine, it's laughing until your eyes tear, seeing stars when you know you shouldn't-- it's like a twisted arm or a broken heart. Sometimes it's messy and sometimes it hurts in the way we think nothing ever should, but in the end this is who we are and these are the things we live for.
This is who I am.
And right now, there's nowhere I'd rather be.