Trying to not feel hot, cold, anxious, or hungry since nobody else is and it is clearly the wrong way to feel.  Trying to be like others.  Trying to not be me.  Trying to figure out who I am without all of the trying. Trying to love me.  Trying to love you.  I am so fucking tired.  Trying to gratitude my pain away.  Trying constantly to feel or not feel a thing has been a direct route to depression-numbness.  I made it. I feel nothing. My favorite thing to now do is to not feel.  This is depression, not sadness, not a bad mood.  It is no longer circumstantial or situational.  It is my brain chemistry.  I would be fine with it, if not for how it takes me out of good parenting, partnering, dog having, and friending.  Fortunately, it does not seem to affect my work performance.  My job is one place where I feel good(ish), productive, useful, dedicated, focused, and protected by protocol, routine, and scheduling.  I wholeheartedly commit to that role and script.

Trying to feel happy because it is my birthday or your birthday or whatever special occasion the calendar says it is.  Trying not to feel hurt or scared by unspeakable tension.  Trying to be oblivious to the unspeakable tension. Trying to not feel repulsed by meat, strong smells, the scent of your breath, perfume, or cologne.  Trying to not feel hurt by gifts for me, which indicate no regard for who I am and what I like.  Trying to look and feel relaxed so I don’t bother anyone.  Trying not to deny or judge how easily I become overwhelmed.  Trying to avoid all emotional and sensory stimulus.  Trying to forgive and accept that when a person in my family asked what was wrong, it was not out of concern but out of a need to debate the (in)validity of my feelings.  Trying to engage. Trying to disengage. Trying to stay when all I want is to get TF out.  Trying to listen when I don’t care.  Trying to shut up when I have something to say or feel a desire to be heard– by people who will not hear.  Trying to like what I do not. Trying to forget or remember how many people I let use me for sex because being used seemed less shitty than being non-usable.  

Trying to stop trying to understand what will never make sense to me about my primary models of truth and trust.  Trying to feel ok about being tall and skinny or not so skinny.  Trying to deny my discomfort and needs.  Trying to deny my rage for those who discount or judge my comfort and needs.  Trying to appear mellow. Trying to exercise boundaries. Trying to be tender and gentle when it is so unnatural.  Trying to stay checked in.  Trying to check TF out.  

It is a beautiful day out side. All I feel like doing is staying under my weighted blanket. Blinds drawn. No sounds, smells, sensations or interactions. I am getting the help I need for this. Because there are those who count on me to show up, be present, engaged, and interested. Anyone needing/requiring for me to “be happy” though, can go fuck themselves. I don’t even strive for happiness, just serenity. Numbness feels a lot like what I imagine peace might be like. Inner peace. Maybe the closeset I will ever know. I have never done a thing perfectly but one thing I know I do damn well is TRYING. I will continue trying. Trying to be here for those I love, with total acceptance for all of my awkward behaviors and questionable choices.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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