Faux Pa

Faux Pa

I have talked about my disappointment in my self that I do not have a family (wife and kids) several times.

For some reason today it really hit hard. I mean there is always a itching of depression that exists in me, but on some days, when it is full blown…. Wow. It is so severe that it deadens you. Makes you feel immobile and non ambulatory in the most vicious of ways. Like you’re drowning in air, burning in water, and/or smushed by gravity.

What am I to do? Be thankful that I am one of the most fortunate individuals that has ever lived? That I have a wonderfully amazing and loving family and multiple good friends?

There is shame in depression that don’t easily explained. At least not for me. How could I be sad? How could some one that is as outrageously loved and lucky as I…. be sad? Why? How? …

I don’t know!

If I did know, I probably wouldn’t be so broken or sensitive.

Has sad stuff happened to me?

Yes.

Has sad stuff happened to EVERYONE?

Yes.

Why can I/you get over it? Man up? Soldier on? Cowboy up?…..

None of it changes everything or anything. At the end of the day I still have to deal with the fact that I am fat, ugly, and with out a wife and kids. Today it has done nothing but tear me up. Or down, depending how you interpret that expression.

I am what I am. And what I am is a dad bod filled with dad jokes possessing no offspring. Which is pretty important for the whole “Dad” thing.

I guess you can call me a faux pa.

So sorry I will see my self out.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com

As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were. So yeah.

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The thing is…

The thing is I have slow hands and a fast heart.

However, I truly do my best to try to play my stupid part.

Problem is, the play I’ve been cast in is a horrible work of art.

Worse than that is this role I’ve been cast in ain’t nothing but ah la carte.

I was born an emotional storm that was built to perform.

In regards to what’s normal I’ve always trouble trying to conform.

Yet here I’ve been cast as nothing but bloody scenery.

What I want to do is explain to every one what little they have seen of me.

The thing is my rough edges refuse to conform.

And the result is I’m left the way wrong shade of bloody greenery.

The thing is I was born with a fast heart.

Slow to judge and fast to fondness.

What I want is perfect politeness, a truly lost art.

It’s one of the deepest cuts, heavily ingrained in my subconscious.

The thing is I don’t want to be fake or run my life like a scam.

My heart beats different in order to design a more artful electrocardiogram.

The thing is I have slow hands.

In all things social I’m not very skilful.

In fact, the moments most find awkward I find very blissful.

The thing is I love Italian food and sweet Chilean wine and to be honest that’s probably why my sugars are giving me problems all the time.

I don’t like me

I don’t like me

Two days ago my therapist asked me, kind of out of the blue, what I wanted from therapy.

It was towards the end of our session and didn’t have really anything to do with the bulk of our conversation had to do it that day. It really caught me offguard and I could only think of one thing to say.

“I would like to one day get to a place where I like me.”

I think the kind of sums it up.

I have lived a life of disappointment and I guess I just want to be OK with that.

yeah–

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com

As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were.

Ketamine and Loneliness

So I’m starting another medical experiment trial this time it is using a genetically modified form of ketamine. Apparently this new pharmaceutical company has removed the things in it that result in the paralytic effects and this is the second double blind trial on the new drug. It’s not a lot of pay for this trial however my therapist and my primary care are interested to see if it works for me. The only downside is I have to drop and cleanse myself of the Abilify I’m allowed to stay on the Wellbutrin but I have to cut my dose down to about a quarter of what is now.

After my first appointment the evaluator from the pharmaceutical company told the lead investigator with the main company that she didn’t want to use me as a subject because of the diabetes and the Atelophobia along with the synesthesia. I was asked to leave the room and the lead investigator, whom I love, apparently talked her into it.

So there’s that.

What else is going on… I think that loneliness is addicting and it’s weird because of how much I loath it. Like I know that I have an addictive personality, I’m not an addict, but I do have addictive tendencies. I know that because of the synesthesia different sensations parallel and connect with other sensations. So even though being so sad and depressed that you become immobile is not something I actively crave in my conscious mind, I have this weird tendency to associate it with a serotonin spikes or some other addictive quality. So kind of like an addict returning to her or his vice even though it causes them pain you still want it even though you hate it.

I hate it.

You know how sometimes a good cry can make you feel good afterwards or how disappointed you are when you can’t sneeze it’s kind of like that amplified a hundred times.

Sometimes I think we would be more successful as a species if we were void of emotion. Maybe not more successful but more geared towards survival. Maybe not.

I’m severely afraid of being a disappointment so much so that the major depressive disorder is intensified to a crippling state. Synesthesia ping-pongs me around from emotion to feeling to synapses of every kind. And the emotional ride give me anxiety so intense my heart tries to escape through my chest via a jack-Hammer style of pounding. All of it makes me so sad it hurts.

And that’s the thing or the difference between feeling sad… Or being sad and being depressed or having major depressive disorder it hurts the depression hurts and it’s not something you can explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The pain is vague and cant be explained by injury or anatomical physical history. But it is so severe… I can’t articulate it.

Also I am afraid that I am lashing out at people who are reaching out to HELP. Because I don’t want them involved I don’t want them to feel the way I feel. I don’t want them to know that I feel this way because it would be disappointing to them, I think. I don’t want anybody to feel pity on me. I don’t want someone to be sad R because I’m sad. I don’t want people to know that I am tormented by my innards, terrorized by psyche, and titillated by my loneliness.

I’m broken and a failure.

I think my most epic failure or my biggest disappointment in myself is that I don’t have a family. You see a very young Noah and a not so you young Noah desperately wanted so bad to have a wife and a bunch of kids before the age of 25 I also wanted to adopt. Well that didn’t happen and I am glad I am no more of a burden for anyone else besides those whom are already plagued by my being in their life.

I am FUBAR.

No one deserves to have to deal with me.

No one.

But I have to continue to fight for contentment! I can not let myself be all consumed and crippled by depression, anxiety, synesthesia or atelophobia.

Happiness is not an option for me. But I can continue to fight and stay content I’ll do my best to make others happy.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com

As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were.

Have a great day!

Love,

Noah

Skin Suit 

Sometimes I want to slice my skin or my outer layers and climb out of my self.

Like a hermit crab leaving it’s shell. 

I don’t know what I expect to see when I look back at my self, nor what I am expecting to do, or say.

What would I say to my self? 

  1. I hate you?
  2. Why are you the way you are?
  3. What makes you so sad, broken, anxious, and afraid of being a disappointment?
  4. Why can’t you just be happy?

Some times I hate it all.

Sometimes I feel ashamed of it all. 

Sometimes I don’t know what to do with it all.

I just want to get away from it all. Escape. Leave behind the misadventure that is Noah.

Let me be clear, I am not ashamed of making mistakes. I am not ashamed of making the mistakes that got me here.

I am ashamed of my emotional reactions to my mistakes.

I have deficiencies that make it impossible to just be happy. I have to really, really work at it to just be content. Happiness is not an option. And that’s not a bad thing. Years of therapy have given me the realization and breakthrough that I cant be happy and emotional energy spent in that endeavor will only end in sadness and depression. 

However I can choose to not be sad by working really hard and using some exercises/tools my therapists gave me. I can choose to work at not showing everyone how sad I am and how much it hurts. That’s right, it hurts.

That is what people don’t realize. The difference between just being sad and having severe depression is that it hurts. It is pain of a severity unlike most others. 

And we can’t just be happy. Believe me it is what I want. I want to just be happy. Be able to show everyone that I am happy and not a disappointment. I do not covet being felt sorry for. What I want is relief. What I covet is peace.

The turmoil for me is the uphill battle of emotional energy it cost to be content. The price of relaxation is mental work and the cost is emotional energy.

If I can’t have happiness then I can fight to help others achieve it for themselves.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com
As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were.

I am not a mental health professional. Please seek out professional help should you find your self in the need. 

Love,

Noah 
.

I’m sitting here.

I’m sitting here at a booth in a sports bar, alone, on New Year’s Eve, wondering how I feel about my 2015. I reckon it wasn’t too grand considering I’m sitting here. Alas it wasn’t too bad considering I’m sitting here. Things could be worse, I could be dead or in major pain. Things could be better I could be on tour or getting the green light for one of my movies/series. But where does that leave me? Just blah?

Here I sit on the WRONG SIDE OF MY TWENTIES and part of me wants to breakdown and cry. Part of me wants laugh at my self. Most of me thinks I’m nuts. I’m just very self aware. I know that I can never be happy, but I know how to busy my self contentment. I know that I will probably die sad and alone, which I have come to terms with. I know that I will always be the friend or partner who tries the hardest and fails the most. I know that I am a good guy! I know I was given the worlds greatest family and equally wonderful friends. I know that I’m one of the best storytellers and that’s what I was put here to do. I know that it is not that bad. I know I’ve lived a pretty great life. I know that 2015 had its ups and downs.

I end 2015 with sentiment that I tried, I tried real hard. I didn’t accomplish much, but I learned a lot. I learned that my resilience and perseverance probably won’t ever waver. I learned that when I don’t pay attention I can let my emotions, disorders and mental deficiencies get the best of me. Course that I knew but I learned some new ways to navigate the tough times.

I’m not where I want to be. I’m not where I’m going to be.

I’m just sitting here.


As always I am not a mental health professional or a relationship specialist. These are simply my findings from life and my hope is that you can take something positive away from it or maybe a new point of view. If you hated it so much and you feel the need to let me know how awful it was or I am please feel free to email me at TheDepartmentOfComplaints@gmail.com
Keep in mind it is important to me that these entries be more of a stream of consciousness and not and editorial, as such no edits or corrections are ever made.
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a wonderful new year-
Love,

Noah