My Maria

I find myself thinking of Maria a lot recently. Sweet, smily, morbid and cynical Maria. I first meeet her in September of 2007, during my stay at Burnaby General 2 West. Aside from reminding me of Great Gran, she just appealed to me. While in Crafts three days into my seven day stay, she showed me her insecurity in one of the most simplist ways someone can while in the ward. She continually asked me and other patients as well as the group leader what we thought of her wooden box. While the nurses continued to push the idea that the only opinion that mattered with the box was her own, she still asked others. All she was doing was painting it. Though, she went as far as to call it her coffin. It sent chills down my spine, but it's ok. As i stared at her rectangular box, I noticed all the different colors it had previously been painted. Signallying to me that she'd been on the ward for a while. During the evening, I would sit in the lounge reading random magazines and Maria would come sit with me drinking her evening coffee or tea. I would politely sit there and listen to her stories of the old country, which I believed to be Russia, her late husband, and her time in Canada. The part I keep thinking about is one of the things she said the night before I was discharged. "Once a Psych patient, always a psych patient." She continued to share of her previous experiences in psych wards. This was her third time as a resident, as well as her third month. I guess given everything of late, it's just eerie. The timing was perfect to mine. Ages adn time away. First time round was at 17, second two years later at 19, and third would be thirty years later. True I don't know exactly what illness was hurting Maria, but i still ask myself if that will be my future? *Shrug*

I guess this is all brought up by an "assignment" given to me by Bright and Heape. To explain how i feel on my worse days. It's taken me a while to actually get words to describe it, though I don't know if it's accurate or not. The best I can summarize right now is that "Sometimes means all the time. Where maybe means never". How often am I feeling like this? Sometimes, but given that day, it feels like all the time, like bad is always after me. Will I ever be free of my illlness and it's vortex? The light I have thinking I could be normal, and free of the constant swirls and clouds disappear. I lack the motivation to do anything. Mainly to prevent spooking myself, as well as just not caring enough. For example, I really could care less about if I ate for not. For one, the knives in the kitchen would be to tempting. For another, i just don't have appetite. All I think of how pointless I am in the world. It's not like I will achieve anything great, make any difference in the world. Even my friends and famioly would be better off without me around, without my dark cloud of negativity. And sometimes I expect people to do things, such as worry when I give them no reason to, and call. To push to hear that i'm not ok. Then when they do, I say they worry too much. But, as long as I stay in my safe spot, the reason to even wake up doesn't mean anything. Anything and everything anyone said taht was negative echoes over everything else. I will hillusinate, imagine, or even just start to make things up to feed the pessismism. I feel useless, insignifacant, and even unwanted despite knowing I am loved by many. To tell anyone how low or down I really feel would burden them and worry them, if not stress. So I find it's best to just keep to myself, because I really don't want to cause soemone else stress. I'll ignore my phone, any text messages I recieve, and if possible the door. I can't bring myself to put on a movie, or pick up any number of books because I find that something somewhere in the story or show will only remind me of my depression. Examples that would fuel me are family, love, death, or someone being thankful for what they have. Everyday things, but still, it hurts me. So, I just stay where I know I can't be hurt, where I know I wont be tempted by the passing traffic for a new adventure of pain, where the only pain i'll feel is emotional. So that at least i'll be ok physically for another day.

I'm not quiet that far in yet, but slowly getting closer. I just don't know. It's extremely obvious, and i try my best to seem like a bubbly happy go lucky person, but, i know, it's fake. That i hurt, that i seem strong. But really, i keep everything inside, but not bottled up. Today at work I had a lovely cry. I looked like hell, but that's what make up is for. Least in this case. I don't have a family to talk to, and my close friends all seem to be busy with their own lives. My dearest is hurting in his own way, and any time I do see him, it's before he's off tos chool. I don't wantt o upset him before he goes to class and plays with knifes and such. So, in the end I keep it all to myself. I mean, how many others will acutally understand what i feel? Lost a mother that wasn't that great, but stillm iss her. Lost my own child upon my own choice, but have to tell everyone around me that it was a misscarrage and make it seem real. I say my own body killed my baby. In a way it's true. It did. I chose to do it. Constantly feel pressured by the financial demands of what i have to purchase for msyelf and to provide for myself. It's not easy. Sometimes I wish i were someone else, that I didn't have all of this. That I wasnt' abused, that I had said something, that someone had actually listened adn cared when it mattered. Oh well. I just keep waiting for the day when I can rest well, knowing I am really cared for, that the only pain i'll feel is the memories that don't haunt, but rather serve as a strength. It's a litle while till that will happen, but in the mean time, i'll just rest in my love's embrace, where I feel safe, and wanted. Where the "voices" i guess shut up because someone is proving them wrong. *sigh*.

I've gotta run off to work.
~KJ