Melancholia, Art and Journaling

[Melancholia]

It's a quarantine log now.

[Melancholia]

I'm losing my mind. 21 days should be nothing, it feels like, in the grand scheme of things.

2 days ago my neighbor stopped by to drop off some herb. She told me a bird was trying to build a nest in my door wreath, and that I should move it. I did, but neither one of us realized that there was already a nest. When I moved the wreath, I turned around to look at the bird, who was not trying to stay away from us. The realization hit me right before I heard, "Splat, splat, splat." 3 tiny little eggs, smashed to pieces on my front porch. Nothing I could do. So I put the door wreath back - perhaps it's early enough and she'll lay again- and I'll defend her home for her from people like me. Mama Bird cried all night. She flew to different windows and beat the panes with her wings. When she grew tired of that, she simply sat in the window, staring at me. Every so often she'd flit to the nest, chirping incessantly. "Where are my babies?!" All my miscarriage emotions have come back full force. I killed 3 baby birds just like my body killed my baby. The guilt is huge and inescapable. I know it's a bird.

I unblocked the other woman on Facebook. It was not a good moment for me. It was stupid. I saw a picture of her child and it looked like North Carolina in the background. I had a very irrational moment where I immediately assumed she was quarantining in Franklin with her parents instead of in Missouri. It's not a completely irrational fear, I guess. Sometime within the last 6 months she tried to sneakily contact my husband through LinkedIn. He immediately deleted her when he recognized the email after he click on the request (she used a fake name), so in a sense I have no room to worry.


This every-day-is-the-same shit is wrecking my brain. All my trauma is forcing itself out.
"Hey! Remember how your mom left your biological father?"
"Hey, remember how he didn't care and didn't try to find you?"
"Hey, remember how everything was fine with your step-dad until your half-brother was born?"
"Hey, remember how you weren't allowed to be anything except what your mother forced you to be?"
"Hey, do you remember that time when you were 8 and your mom dressed you up for a play date in ridiculously nice clothes even though you said no and you were made fun of the whole play date?"
"Hey, remember how you have a memory gap in terms of where you learned that stuff you did to your barbies?"
"Hey, we haven't thought about how traumatizing puberty was in a long time - remember how your mom was super pushy and all your friends called you fat?"
"Hey, those friends are all body positive now but never apologized for calling you fat, lol isn't that hilarious?"
"Hey, remember how you were addicted to porn at 12?"
"Hey, we're trying here, but there's nothing but a lot of fog for years 12 and 13. Oh well!'
"Hey, remember how you started public school in the 10th grade and all your friends from homeschooling made fun of you and called you a schoolie?"
"Hey remember how you almost killed yourself with aspirin that same year, and how you couldn't eat french fries for several years after that because of the taste of charcoal you had to drink mixing with the fries your mom forced you to eat after they grudgingly let you out of the hospital?"
"Remember how that first semester was really hard, but you had an awesome Latin teacher? Remember how she quit and you cried?"
"Remember how you said no to prom and never went because you didn't understand flirting?"
"Oh yeah, remember your new Latin teacher who was buddy buddy with you, had you grade all her papers, and then made fun of you in front of other students? She was swell."
"Remember how you ran away from home in high school?"
"Oh snap, remember how everyone called you a lesbian in high school?"
"Hey, remember how you broke up with the person who was probably your soulmate because you had never had someone treat you so well and it scared you?"
"Do you remember how you spiraled out of control because of severe depression that didn't get diagnosed because your mother refused to take you to a traditional doctor?"
"Do you remember how you found out your fiance was cheating on you and most people knew and didn't tell you?"
"Haha, so funny that they also stayed friends with him."
"Well, at least everyone started hating him after he hurt SOMEONE ELSE."
"Also, your husband who was supposed to be different cheated on you too."
"And your body kills babies."
"No one will ever listen to you."
"No one ACTUALLY cares that they hurt you."
"You're way too much work to love."
"It's all their fault."
"It's all your fault."
"You will never be healthy."
"You're fat and disgusting."
"He's going to leave you."
"Your kids have been irreparably fucked up."
"You're a waste of space."

[Animal]

I would have cried for months over those birds. Ugh. It obviously was not on purpose so I hope you can forgive yourself <3 but damn ouch.

[Melancholia]

April 8th, 2020 - Day 22, 2:19pm

I went to the doctor this morning. Last night I had a really bad asthmatic reaction to allergies (and probably pot, let's be honest here). I've basically been wheezing since after dinnertime yesterday. It's bad enough that I have to catch my breath when I'm speaking. The doctor does not think it's Covid but told me to quarantine anyway, which...is what we've been doing. He prescribed prednisone for a week, so hopefully it will help. I took it this morning and have been drinking thyme tea with honey. My chest hurts, I'm coughing, and I feel shitty. Can't tell if the chest tightness is still the asthma or just anxiety at this point.

Fml.

[Melancholia]

?

Today is April 10th, Friday. It's 8:28 am. Day 24.

On Day 22 I had a panic attack. It was big and it was bad. I think it had been waiting for several days for the right moment. Not being able to breath was apparently the right moment. I began crying, which escalated to crying and walking in circles, which escalated to crying, walking in circles, and hyperventilating, which escalated to crying, hyperventilating, grasping at my chest, and leaning against the sliding glass door quite dramatically. I managed to control myself long enough to ask for help from my husband, which I had to wait for because he was in the middle of something. It's not his fault. But it made it worse. Once I had his physical support I was able to come back into my body enough to word vomit thought for thought and try to get some of the anxiety processed.

My ultimate conclusion was that I am trapped in my body and I want to die. I am trapped in a fleshy prison. I'm craving freedom. I want to ride the wind. Kill the body, the soul goes free, right?

I was talking to a friend yesterday about her own mental health in relation to some things her marriage counselor said. My takeaway from that conversation is that something that was a blip in one person's childhood is a formative experience to another. There are very specific moments for me from childhood that had a major impact on me and no one else. Likewise my friend has similar experiences that were very formative to her that weren't even on my radar.

So how do I work through that, though? Part of my problem is being hung up on the principle of things - to address the issue within myself I have to make those responsible get honest about their parts in those things. It drives me insane to see people who called me "fat" "tubby" and "butter buns" when I hit puberty be radical body positive liberals - who have never apologized to me.

I don't want to be hung up on these things. I have worked through letting some of these things go. I thought. Leave it to quarantining to make your hidden parts start to ooze out.

[Melancholia]

The Letter I'll Never Send You


Dear You,

It's been just over 4 years. I unblocked you on a stupid whim and immediately regretted it. I told myself I would block you as soon as the time limit was up. It's been over a week, and I haven't. I look though your pictures and it's bizarre. I'm as familiar with my own face as I am with yours. You look different but you don't.

For 7 years our lives were intertwined. I don't think you liked me much, but contrary to what you may think, I loved you. I might still. I probably do or I wouldn't be writing this letter, I guess. I think it's hard for me to not love someone with which my life was so intricately intertwined. We were "saved" together. We married best friends. We were pregnant together. We struggled together. We lived together more than once. We were poor together. We had legitimately happy times together. We brought children into the world together. We parented together. We suffered greatly - together, and separately.

I have this gnawing in my soul - I look through your pictures and see that you are more you than you ever were. I'm still not sure what you IS, but I can see that you're so much closer (or maybe you've arrived already) than you were when I knew you. Despite our history, I'm glad that you seem to be finding YOU.

I had a lot of judgement towards you. I know you know that. Maybe this is the point that I remind both of us that nothing I say will ever justify what you did - but I do intend to speak to you in a way that I don't think I ever have.

I'm so very sorry.

I'm sorry for the condemnation I continually heaped upon your head. I'm sorry for being so tunnel visioned. I'm sorry for my fundamentalism. I'm so sorry that you were drowning and drowning and all I did was sigh and moan. I'm sorry that I treated you as lesser. I'm sorry that I vomited Christianity on you when you didn't want it. I'm sorry for the part I played in making you feel like you had to live a lie to be able to simply survive. I'm sorry for every stupid comment about modesty. I'm sorry that I condemned you for things I wouldn't blink at now. I'm sorry for being so strict with our children. I'm sorry for being a prideful monster. I am going through my own shit currently, and I think if someone was treating me the way I treated you, it would break me.

I have a lot of regrets in terms of religion. What I have learned about myself is that I am such an extremist that I put that above most everything else, to the detriment of those around me. I was so conservative, so rule oriented, so legalistic. In hindsight I think I needed it to work and so I threw my whole self into the mindset. Christianity saved me from myself and so I owed it everything. I was 19 and conservative Christianity was the clear path. What a muddy path I see it to be, now. Muddy, and severely damaging.

I think my biggest regret now is that we weren't there for each other as women. I don't know if it's age or life or what, but I feel a much deeper need now to connect with women as women in the fullness of our individual womanhood - and to also accept and honor those who find their identity in their queerness, their inbetweeness. Anyway - I wish that I had viewed the world then in the way that I do now. There's a lot that I would have done differently.

This doesn't wipe the slate clean. It doesn't negate your mistakes. I'm not attempting to absolve you. I have no desire to, as I have no desire to absolve myself. It's simply to tell you that I think about you - I think about who we were and who we may have become had life been different. I wonder if we would have been true friends under different circumstances. I wish we could smoke a blunt together and hash it all out. I think for the first time we'd have something truly substantial and meaningful in common.

And that's it. I don't know what else to say.

Sincerely,
Hannah.

[Melancholia]

D A Y 2 9

I N T O X I C A T I O N

I basically stayed high or was drinking for most of the past 29 days. Most recently, 2 boxes of wine (that's like 8 bottles) lasted me less than a week. The hangover that came after the last night of drinking was intense. I was weak all day. I was sweating. I threw up stomach acid and could barely keep anything down. I thought I might lose feeling in my body and drift away. It was a scary reality to face - that I put myself in that position to be able to cope. So I've decided to abstain from both for a week. It's day 3 and I think I need to abstain from alcohol for a while. At least until I am managing my emotions in a healthy way.

N A T U R E

On day 2 of abstaining (yesterday), I forced myself to make healthy choices.
I ate breakfast - sprouted bread with peanut butter and sliced banana.
I put my bra on.
I drank less coffee.
I forced myself and the kids outside.

I don't remember the last time I enjoyed being outside so much. I don't remember the last time I actually enjoyed playing with my children like that. We picked up sticks. Samson made a fort. Odin frolicked like Odin does. I felt the grass and dirt on my feet, between my toes. I felt the breeze caress my SOUL and the sun warm my body. It makes me sad that I have become so out of shape and so mentally unhealthy that I forgot. I forgot how much time I used to spend outside. When I was a kid, I spent as much time as I could outside. Fort building, pretend play, games with friends, special sanctuary spots in the woods, scampering on rocks in rivers, hugging trees (I legit had a very special tree that I visited everyday and loved on)...the list goes on and on. I don't know what happened, and I'm not okay with it. But being stone cold sober and forcing myself to get that peace from something else - nature - has made me feel hopeful again.

P A R E N T I N G

I feel like I had a mild breakthrough with Samson (9) today. Our biggest struggle with him is trying to teach him how to take accountability for his own choices. Sometimes I have wondered if his lying is pathological. There's always an excuse or a justification, and he will explain what happened several times to avoid getting in trouble - but he's 9 so he sucks at realizing that changing your story over and over just digs the grave deeper and deeper. After a lot of agonizing and yelling and figuratively slamming my head against the wall, he finally came to me to tell me the truth. No justification or explanation.
"I lied to get out of doing it. That was really crappy and I'm very sorry. I'm sorry I disappointed you, Mom." Well thank god, because you can't really work with anything but honesty.

[Melancholia]

D A Y 3 1

H O P E

Today I feel hopeful. Yesterday I was almost admitted to the hospital for asthma and anxiety induced wheezing. I almost fainted on the way to the doctor's office. I just couldn't breathe. He gave me two different steroid shots and a breathing treatment. Since the anxiety is still an issue even after upping my antidepressant and doubling the mood stabilizer, he wrote me a prescription for Xanax as well. I won't lie and say I'm not worried that my highly addictive personality won't have a hard time coming off of Xanax once my prescription is up. But it's a low dose, and after taking one dose yesterday, I feel extremely hopeful about the results. The steroids and the breathing treatment opened everything back up, and I stopped wheezing. But my chest still felt tight, like it was shutting down. Of course, that's the anxiety, which the steroids only made worse, so I popped the xanny and suddenly I could breathe better for the first time in a long time. All that anxiety went away, and I just felt a calm I haven't felt in a while. I will admit that I added in THC as well, but that seems to accompany it very well. Taking Xanax is also a great incentive to not drink alcohol.

Anyway - yeah, I guess I didn't really realize how bad my breathing actually was, and now I'm seeing a light at the end of the "I FEEL LIKE SHIT" tunnel.
Today's goal: Stay on top of managing all feelings of anxiety to prevent it from setting off my asthma.


O N F R I E N D S H I P

It's been an interesting thing to see how relationships have changed throughout this whole process. Some of my friendships are experiencing renewed life. We're closer because of the way we view this whole situation. We're closer because we know who we both ultimately are and know that we are safe places to go during times like this. The need for that safe space has evolved into a sense of comfort and rest.

On the flipside, some of my go-to relationships are waning. I know it's mostly on my end. I just struggle to provide that space space for them when most of our conversations revolve around how they think we shouldn't need to quarantine. I love those people so much, and I know with everything in me that they don't mean to be offensive or unsympathetic. They're processing through their own junk. It is difficult, though, that they don't see how bad it would be if I got Covid, or someone else with underlying issues. Me staying home isn't enough, because we still have to survive by going to the grocery store, the doctor, etc. If everyone goes along like life is normal, those of us who are compromised DON'T get to experience normalcy for a much longer amount of time. Anyway. It's hard to not feel a lot of disappointment.

[Melancholia]

Day 37

[Melancholia]

hope exists only as an elusive mermaid.
You get but one glimpse
of her shining face
soaring out of the water.
Then she's pummeled to death by the waves of an unforgiving ocean against the rocky cliffs of the psyche.

[Melancholia]

I am
no one's
god damn
emotional
fucking
scapegoat.

FUCK YOU

[Melancholia]

Day 40

Hecate, A Self Portrait

[Melancholia]

A Quartet of Quarantine Portraits

[Animal]

wow these are amazing :O

[Melancholia]

Chest is bursting,
Emotions boiling and churning.
Will there ever be an end
To all this fucking yearning?

Maybe I could rip it open
My chest, I mean.
Rip it open and let it all out
Maybe then I'd feel clean?

I'd rather be a void
Than feel like I do now.
Trapped here in this body,
Beaten over brow.

My brain is fucked,
That much is clear.
Overcome by emotions,
And especially, by fear.

Medication sometimes works,
Until it starts to not...
That's when I get broody,
analyzing every single thought.

One thought leads to another,
And another after that.
Like I'm choosing pieces of paper
From my gigantic trauma hat.

But there are way too many pieces.
I can't sort through them all.
The pile keeps growing bigger,
and I don't know who to call.

I can't seem to stick with therapy,
Maybe because I'm broken.
There's so much locked away,
So many things remain unspoken.

Even I don't know what it is
This inner turmoil that spins,
Maybe if I can get my footing
I'll be absolved of all my sins?

Probably not.
I don't know what to believe.
It's all so very complicated
and difficult to conceive.

He loves me, He loves me not
Both my husband and "God."
Ripping petals off of flowers
It's just a fucking facade.

I seem to fail at every turn,
I'm a terrible wife and mother.
Maybe if things could be different
They could thrive with...another?

Should I fade into oblivion,
Taste that freedom I desire?
Don't bury in me in ground.
Send my body to the fire.

And when you collect my ashes
Don't shed a single tear.
This is what you ultimately wanted
...isn't it, my dear?

To be free from the cage
That seems to be me.
If I were not here,
Then you'd be free.

Just promise me this,
When my ashes are in hand:
Throw me off a cliff,
And pray I never land.

[Melancholia]

If freedom were a fleeting hope
I might dream of happy things.
Of sprouting feathers, arms stretched wide
Testing my new wings.

I'd find a mountain, blue of course,
And climb and climb and climb.
I'd climb until the trees grew shorter,
Beautiful and sublime.

I'd peek around for fairy folk
Caress moss-covered rocks.
I'd close my eyes, and listen
As the wind drowned out my thoughts.

I'd climb until I reached the ridge
And survey the land below.
Miles upon miles of untouched trees,
Just like back when life was slow.

I'd see a ledge, jutting out
A perfect Green Man throne.
I'd scramble quickly to that place,
To see if He was home.

Alas, I'd never glimpse Him,
But that would suit me fine.
For that would mean that time and space
Would finally be mine.

Once on the ledge
I'd gaze in wonder
At the beauty before me,
Above me and under.

My body would quiver, as if on fire.
The Transformation begins.
I'd twist and shake and bend and claw.
I'd finally shed this human skin.

Free of the chains humanity bears,
I'd stretched my wings out wide.
I'd proudly turn my feathers to the sun
Finally, I have nothing to hide.

Before I'd give myself to flight
I'd turn to look behind me.
Behind the shrubs and in the trees
I'd see His eyes, twinkling kindly.

"Hello, my daughter," the Green Man would say,
"I've been waiting for you here.
Go now, and be free.
You have no need for fear."

I'd smile, He'd smile, then disappear
and I'd turn back to the sky.
I'd take a deep breath, run, then leap.
Free, away I would fly.

But freedom isn't a fleeting hope.
It's not even something to consider.
So until my soul is released in death,
I'll just continue to...sit here.

[Melancholia]

Dirty, unclean,
A sinner through and through.
You'll never be good enough.
But it's also not up to you.

Believe or perish
This is what I hear.
But I can't believe unless He wants me to,
So should that be cause for fear?

Probably - the threat is Hell
Fuck, I need to believe.
Well maybe this really isn't so bad
A much welcomed reprieve?

A reprieve from my life,
An answer to my "prayers"
A place that feels safe enough
To air my woes and cares.

At first it was a joy,
But you know, the suffering kind.
Because suffering should be a joy -
At least in the Christian mind.

Taught to love, taught to forgive
Taught to seek the truth.
Confess your sins to God and man,
But don't dare to be uncouth.

The Church is a hospital
That is what they say -
That it's for people who are sick
In need of a bed to lay.

I wish that I could tell you
I found hope and comfort there.
But all that I have ultimately found
Are fucking clouds of hot air.