Tag Archives: depression

Note to self:

I wasn’t aware it’s been over a year now since I’ve posted anything here. I haven’t felt inspired to write for quite some time.  And even though things have been hard for me, instead I’d like to write about someone else’s struggle.  I’m sure I will never truly know why things happened the way they did, but on some level I am deeply sympathetic to Park Bom, and 2NE1’s disbandment makes perfect sense to me.

News of Bom’s “drug scandal” (not what I’d call it, but what I think doesn’t matter in context) changed things forever for 2NE1. The criticism from people was unreal, and given the drug she had brought into the country was an anti-depressant, it’s obvious she was already in a vulnerable state of mind.  The group was put on hiatus, and eventually Minzy left the group entirely to pursue her own interests.  To think of what it felt like for Bom at this time is much like taking a look at my own life.  How could she not blame herself for this?  The whole world was looking for someone to accept responsibility, and well-intentioned or not, the things people were saying were destructive.  Destructive to her and her heart.

I know this because I’ve been there. Every day I combat my own feelings of my mistakes and my shortcomings, and I’m sure Bom does too.  But other people’s opinions weigh heavily on our minds, and even things that are said in support of us will sometimes have just the opposite effect.

It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault that 2NE1 broke up. Maybe it was CL’s fault, and YG’s too. Their favoring her marketing and solo debut detracted too much from everyone else and made disbandment the easiest option.  Maybe it was Minzy’s fault.  Being impatient and unsupportive and wanting to distance herself.  Or maybe it’s our faults; Blackjacks and society in general.  Maybe life happened, and 2NE1 suddenly found themselves at different places emotionally.  Can we blame CL for having incredible potential?  Can we blame YG for helping her and focusing on her while the group is on hiatus?  Can we blame Minzy for being driven and not wanting to waste another moment she could be using to invest in herself and her future?  We can, but all the while Bom is listening and her heart is hurting, because at the root of all the blame is someone who feels there is no one to blame but herself.

YG has stated Bom was 2NE1’s undoing, and on the surface perhaps this is true. But maybe instead of blaming her or anyone else involved, we should just be accepting.  Accepting of 3 young women (shout out to Dara!) who are ready to face the world and make themselves proud.  And accepting of another young woman who has faced more criticism than anyone ever should, and recognize that her flaws are our own.  Does anyone know how this makes her feel?

We all make mistakes. We all feel inadequate.  We all feel flawed.

We are all Park Bom.

I hate myself.

I just really, really hate myself. I have a fleeting moment of confidence where I feel I’m sufficiently capable of being a grown up and then I remember that I’m awful and such a thing is indelibly unattainable.

I went back home for Christmas to spend the holiday with my family and it was the worst.  I got into it with my mother on Christmas Eve after being treated like a second rate human being compared to my siblings by both her and my dad.  Long story short I told her I’m not certain I would even come by anymore if I weren’t financially dependent on them (my parents).

Then I got home and I started to think, you know, maybe it’s really time I just settle on a life course and see where it takes me already, because my current path hit a dead end about 2-3 years ago. I started craving my hometown, and not the town my parents live in that I spent my adolescence in, but the town we relocated from to get there; the town where I spent my youth.  I haven’t been back in half a life time.  Literally.  I was 12 when we left and I turn 24 this year.  Honestly, though the move never bothered me at the time, I find myself wondering what my life would be like today had we not left.  Our family was more bonded before the move, particularly between all of us kids’ individual relationships with our dad.  Though I’m not certain that had anything to do with the move…

Anyways, my point here is that I find myself wondering lately if I would be a different person today had we stayed. I see all these people I grew up with settling into careers and living capable, fulfilling lives, and I just can’t say the same for myself.  If I stayed, would I have been influenced to pursue other hobbies growing up?  Would I have found a talent or an interest I could devote myself too?  My neighbour, a boy my sister’s age I used to play with, he’s still playing hockey 12 years later, playing for a minor league team and undoubtedly pursuing a long term career out of this.  One of my best friends growing up, a crafty girl who always loved to doodle and make art projects runs her own art store now and seems to absolutely love what she does.  Radio emcee, astrophysics, salon manager, graphic design, you name it.  Everyone I know is doing something they love, and it’s a product of years of pursuing that specific interest and making it into something they can do for a living, all the while I sit in my apartment alone wondering what my interests even are so I can do something other than hate myself.

I moved to the city to pursue laboratory sciences, and after 1 semester at University I quickly fell off that band wagon and realized I wasn’t near passionate enough to devote 4 years of my life, blood, sweat, and tears into something I chose on a whim.  However, I recently found a more comfortable program for me for the same thing at a different institution and I wonder if I should just… try again.  I think probably my rationale behind wanting to pursue such a career is that growing up, my sister’s two closest friends both had mother’s working this exact job or similar to it.  And that caters to me in the sense that I’ve always wanted to have a family of my own and I idolized both these women a lot growing up, so much so that it would almost feel fulfilling to me to pursue this in that regard.  They were both so friendly; always smiling and always so caring.  They both were ambitious and I feel they both truly have everything.  A husband, children, a career, and the patience and resilience to manage all 3 of those things without ever losing face.  I wish I could be like that so desperately…

And that brings me to today. I lost my hair ties.  “What?” you ask?  I spent like a crap ton of money on these ultra-cute hair ties for me, my sister, and my sister in law’s stocking stuffers for Christmas, and I was incredibly excited to wear mine, because I’ve been growing my hair out for what seems like forever (I had an anxiety attack and hacked off months of effort which set me back a lot) and finally I am able to tie my hair back properly.  So I go hunting for my hair ties I had last seen not 2 weeks ago… and they’re gone.  I was already running late for work today so I left in a panic and yelled at my mom over the phone to look around her house in case I left them there… nothing.  It really got to me.  It’s really getting to me.  It will really get at me in the morning.  They were one of a kind that I bought online and they’re just gone without a trace.  Then I spent 8 hours at work hating myself and hating my life because karma just really seems to dislike me and these kind of things always happen to me!  Side note: while typing this my laptop died because I unplugged it for the first time in half a decade to move my makeshift coffee table around so I could accommodate my new area rug and forgot to plug it back in…  You see??

And these things ACTUALLY FACTUALLY bother me. I mean I go ballistic and you’d think you’re witnessing someone who should be sent to an asylum.  I throw tantrums like a 2 year old and coincidentally I’ve been throwing them ever since I were 2!  I become overwhelmed with anger and hate for myself for being stupid enough to misplace something I was so excited about and I honestly feel the urge to harm myself.

What’s worse is I’ll probably call my mother again in the morning and rip her a new ass hole like she had anything to do with this at all, just because I need to scream at someone other than myself to relinquish some of my anguish.

And now I’m sitting here typing, thinking that my ever being an adult is such a farce. I’m a financial and emotional cripple.  How is someone like me supposed to go through school and practicum and 30 years of dedicated work without blowing a gasket on someone undeserving over something petty…  I don’t know that I can.

What’s holding me back the most though is my lack of motivation. What is this really all for?  At the end of the day I don’t have someone who loves me, I don’t have children who depend on me, I don’t have hobbies or friends… I have no reason to do anything more than what I’m doing right now… and that’s despairing to me.  I want more from life but I can’t achieve it.  I wouldn’t see the point if I could.

On setting goals–

Do people actually think about what their life is going to be like? 5 years from now? 10? Do people actually make life plans and set goals? I’ve heard this all my life and yet I’ve failed to make any plans at all. I have zero expectations, except for maybe a few bad expectations. Planning is such a farce to me. I feel so unsupported and so incapable.

I just finished talking with my mom on the phone. We talk often enough, but every few months I feel so synonymously overwhelmed and underwhelmed with my life that I need to vent to her. Honestly? Trying to vent to her is just self-sabotaging, but I really have no one else.

Today’s stressor: Money. Finances. Moolah. And how I have none of it.

It all started 4 years ago. I think that I had maybe anticipated having high expectations moving to the city to attend post-secondary, but I was just going through the motions. You graduate high school, you take a year off to “find yourself”. You go to university, you meets someone special, you graduate, you get a real job, you get married, you make real money, you have a real life. I just couldn’t follow through. I wasn’t there yet. I’m not there now. And between being gay and dropping out of university, I’ve become my parent’s number 1 disappointment in life. They’ll never admit it to my face (actually that’s a lie, they’ve basically already admitted it in so many words), but I am disappointing. Even to myself.

They seem to think it’s appropriate to always, always respond to my fears about finances with an unsympathetic head tilt and a “well, you know what you have to do”. *Cough, cough* *wink, wink* *nudge, nudge* SCHOOL.

I can’t go back to school. Not now, maybe not ever. I can’t make myself pick a career or pick some courses out of a hat and just go for it. My heart will never be in it.

I tried communicating that to my mom on the phone today, and it didn’t work. It never does. I tried telling her that it’s hard for me to predict what my life will look like in 10 years, because my heart truly isn’t even invested in myself. I told her that it’s easiest for me to think I won’t be around in 10 years, because when I try to imagine what life would be like, I’m entirely disappointed.

All she had to say to me was that I’m just having a bad day and then asked if I watched last night’s episode of Big Brother.

She always does that, changes the subject. I try and confront her about it, tell her that I feel unloved and unsupported, and she says that I’ve ranted and there’s nothing else she can do about it. Then she swiftly changes the subject again before I can engage her at all. I mean yea, maybe she’s vastly under-equipped for my state of mind these past few years, but the fact that there’s just such a huge wall between my feelings and her is so utterly despairing to me. I feel like I have nobody. I feel like of all the people in the world, my own mother, I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of my feelings or embarrassed that she may not take them seriously.

Now I try and put on a brave face for a few months until I need to release, only to have my feelings rejected all over again.

I’m tired of feeling like all I have to offer people are blank stares and empty smiles and remedial laughter. I’m tired of going unnoticed for who I actually am and how I actually feel.   I’m tired of people expecting me to be somebody in their lives in 10 years, in any capacity, when I already feel like I’m so immeasurably separate. I don’t want to be here in 10 years. I’ve made my first life plan.

The Tale of Spiritual Enlightenment

I have always loved Studio Ghibli movies, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is not my first love by any means.  But every now and again, in any entertainment medium, I come across a song or a quote or a scene that moves me beyond words.  This particular Ghibli movie had one of these songs.

It’s honestly been so long since I’ve been overwhelmed by feeling enough to compel myself to write here for any reason other than keeping up my humanity.  And this entry probably already sounds half ludicrous as it stands that I almost feel a fool putting this feeling I have into words, but… here it goes:

The Procession of Celestial Beings.  It’s a song that plays towards the end of the film as the celestial people of the moon come to reclaim Princess Kaguya among their ranks.  I think that the movie intended for the song to evoke a certain level of exalted grandeur to muddy your feelings of hopeless abandon.  At least that’s how I would describe my relationship with this song.

If you wanted me to quote my brain verbatim from the moment the sounds of percussion interlude into a splendor of symphonic winds, “This will be the song played at my funeral” is what I would say to you.

I stood up clumsily and surprised my cats–one sprawled on the floor and the other pawing at the fish bowl on the table.  And then I began to dance.  Suddenly my head was adorned with a crown of sprigs and my wrists were slaves to the bells.  My living room transformed into a breezy field with the sun beaming ringlets of light around us as one cat stretched across a mossy patch of stone next to a pond where the other cat played and pounced at the fish.  I spun and twirled and flipped my hair.  I smiled and I looked upon them between turns and embraced myself.  For the first time in what feels like forever I felt my spirit break free from my skin and the two of us… the two of us just “were”.  I was simply me and for a blip of time I enjoyed an eternity of spiritual enlightenment.

Someday maybe I will find myself there for real, and until that day I have the Procession of Celestial Beings to guide me.

Dear Diary,

I saw on t.v. or a movie (or some kind of media) recently that someone had the ambition of exchanging journals with another someone they liked.  Which made me think of the Nintendo series “Harvest Moon” where, at least in some titles, you have to read your love interest’s journal to get a vibe of where they’re at in your budding romance.  Which made me wish I were keeping a journal or a diary of sorts in the event of cute guys.

I mean, I suppose this whole blog is more or less a journal.  It’s all about my feelings, after all.  But everything here is so depressing.  If I had a prospective love interest, this blog is where I would send him before I make nookie with him and then eat him alive like a black widow, baby.

This place is sad.  And repetitive.  Endlessly so.

I hate feeling so invalid.  What I have to say isn’t important to anyone.  It’s unimportant to even myself.  So much so that I oft times have nothing to say at all.

Being younger was so much easier.  I miss high school a lot these days.  Sure, I felt I was depressed in high school too, but there was so much more going on then.  So much more to look forward to and to have feelings about.  Dinner at the café and then movies or video games with a couple friends on Thursdays.  Procrastinating homework to the bitter end on Sunday.  (Hey, it made dicking around on my own feel a lot more productive than it ever does these days).  Even school itself made things feel more acceptable.

School was an ego boost.  Teachers loved me.  Getting good grades gave me purpose.  There were tons of people my age at my disposal for friendship or comradery. Other people who were feeling low.  Other people who were feeling rebellious.  Other people who were feeling studious.  Other people who were feeling mediocre.  Other people digging art, or video games, or anything under the sun.  There was always someone for me to relate myself too.  I miss that.

If I were keeping a day to day journal in present time, and I shared it with someone I valued, it would go something like this:

“Deary Diary,

Today was pretty average.  I showered last night so I could sleep in a little extra this morning.  It wasn’t especially helpful though because I stayed up late waiting for my hair to dry.  I guess either way I got my standard 6 hours…

I watched a few more episodes of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood before work as well.  It was good, but I had trouble focusing.  Then I was almost made late for work trying to decide which method for hiding my chest would be best today.  I ended up just wearing my baggiest hoodie over top of a tank top. Thank goodness for winter!

Work was okay.  I had a lot of trouble today and asked a lot of questions.  Even though I’m still pretty new, no one I work with has any patience with me at all. Everyone is very aggressive and the way they answer my questions makes me feel lesser of myself every time I ask… I don’t like these people, and even though I do like this job, I don’t know how long I can put up with the same few people everyday who have nothing in common with me. I spend my breaks in the bathroom stall just to escape the noise and the hostility.

The walk home after work was nice, however. It was very cold, and I wore my really short ankle socks. My scarf kept my face warm but I loved how cold my feet were. Sometimes I feel like the cold biting at my feet as I walk home is the only sensational part of my day. Everything else is forgettable.

The cats ate good for me when I got home, thankfully! Not a day goes by that I don’t worry about them getting sick again. I rinsed their bowls and kissed their noses before deciding to eat dinner myself. As usual, I really don’t have much to eat so I settled for baked perogies again.

I thought I would try and pick up A Link to the Past after dinner, because I really just want to beat it and move on to A Link Between Worlds, but I didn’t have the motivation. I watched some recordings from last night instead and accidentally fell asleep. Luckily, the girls woke me up when it was time to feed them again, so I did just that and then crawled in to bed.

I thought about crying tonight, but I just didn’t feel like I had it in me. Maybe tomorrow night will be a better night for it, since I won’t have to be up early for work the next morning.

Until then,

Blue”

And the saddest part of all of this? I don’t have any love interests. I don’t know anybody. There’s no boy in my Science class who sits next to me so I can do his homework in exchange for subtely smelling his beautiful being. And there’s no homeroom teacher from the house down the street to crush on and pretend he has a vested interest in my life when in reality its just his job to keep track of me and the other kids appointed to him.

It’s just me. I don’t even know any boys. What are those anyways?

Dear Diary, help me.

By the stars (I am obliged)

Beyond the looming stain of day, afar

is where one’s body lies frozen–gilded by stars

and the wisps of cold that tease down thy breasts,

cooing bursts of dew from within lost breath.


I speak for the one, but should you query

whom, your insistence does leave me quite leery.

‘Speak for the one who knows not what to say,

and regards boundless confinement as the only such way.


By the stars soaked through one’s cloth,

I am obliged to shed light on flesh; a moth’s

flame to guide the forgotten back from wence

it came–no measure, no morsel of penance.


Starved of immortality and weak under

wings of war, I too feel my flesh torn asunder

by the seeds of humanity that grow about

my oneness; the stars bearing life I am without.


Perhaps I am the one; the gilded expanse,

a folly of the stars in line with the romance

of tranquility and dawn.  The irony of a dawn

that is broken but will not break.  Where has it gone?

Please state your given name

I remember a time when my world was something I would have envied, should it not already have been mine.  Sure, I’ve always been prudent, but somehow I’d never questioned who I was or what I liked.  I feel like in a way, I was confident in myself, but never outside of myself.

Life sure was easy as a kid, I definitely don’t deny this.  The further back I look into time, the easier it was for me to connect to people, and to adventure and imagine and create.  I wasn’t struggling with my identity as a medium, I was wielding it as a looking glass.

Some days I’d like to see life through those eyes again.  Maybe I would become inspired… reinvigorated with my sense of self and desire to humour the unfamiliar.

“a positive thinker and a mind of his own                                                                                                    outgoing, adventurous and one who dares to                                                                                             be different and be his own man                                                                                                                  will go the extra mile for a friend, or to                                                                                                        have others say ‘job well done’                                                                                                                      sharp, witty and clever of speech, words                                                                                                     flow from him                                                                                                                                                    loves the challenge of the unknown, testing                                                                                                both his body and soul                                                                                                                                    a lover of life and his freedom”

This quotation has been framed in my bedroom for as long as I can remember.  It is quoted beneath my given name, so I presume it is laid out as my destiny of sorts.  The meaning behind my name; my birthright.

I remember as a boy, I would read this quote often, and somehow it would always reaffirm how I felt about myself.  I would go down the lines and nod in approval, or smile at the idea of something greater designating me of all people to be this charmed, extraordinary person.

I almost find it funny how confident I was in myself back then.  So much as to even think of myself as this princely child who’s cards always fell in line–my karmic destiny a force to be reckoned with.  But I was humble and gracious.  At least that’s how I remember myself!!

Now I read this quote and I couldn’t feel more distant.  This quote does not describe me.  This has not become my destiny.  And yet that is still my name.  I feel betrayed by the universe in many ways.  My identity has escaped me and my confidence has been pilfered by an illness I am reluctant to address.  What is the use in naming it?  It seems to me a name is but a vestige of deceit.