athenaswickedowl

My Thoughts On Depression and Alcohol

I had to break up with my best friend and mortal enemy, Vodka, January 22, 2017. I went to sleep about 2:30 that Sunday morning only to wake up to gut-wrenching pain and a very high fever. The fever was so high that my teeth were chattering and smashing together so hard, that if I were to think about it at the time, I might have thought they were all going to break. But I couldn’t really think about anything except the fever and the pain. I had to get up and pee once, and the walk to the bathroom, from one end of the 20-ft camper I live in, to the other, was absolutely freezing cold and excruciating. I felt an immense surge of relief, after the voyage was made and I was safely back in my bed under about 6 blankets. The relief was slight, to say the most.

I experienced those same symptoms the entire day, symptoms that probably would’ve driven many others to the emergency room, but if I had so much difficulty getting to the bathroom, there was no way I was getting in a car and going to the hospital. NO WAY. Instead, I lay in my bed and waited. I drank as much water as I could, because drinking water required me to not only move, but come out from under the covers. I was able to go to sleep pretty early with the help of my other friend, Xanax, who I really do have a loving relationship with because there is no abuse, whatsoever, one to another. She only helps me when I need her help.

I woke up the next morning about 3 o’clock, soaking wet. My fever had broken and all of my blankets were wet, the ones closest to my body were soaked, the sheets beneath me were soaked, my clothes were drenched and so was my pillow. The smell was purely awful. It smelled of infection and death with a pinch of urine. One of my first thoughts in my groggy state of mind was that I peed the bed, but I didn’t really care about that, I was just angry that I was still cold and now my blankets and clothes were wet.

I’m not sure about this because I am not one, but I think at that point a non-depressed person would have gotten up and changed their bed clothes. I didn’t, I kept on laying in them. I think I moved the top blanket to the bottom, but other than that, I just continue to lie in it and wait for it to dry, feeling sick and irritated.

I made it to work later that morning. I didn’t bathe before I went, but that was mostly due to the fact that the shower doesn’t work in this camper and I’m forced to walk next door to my oldest son’s father’s house and bathe there and I don’t like to go over there.

I ran a low-grade fever all day that would intermittently, raise then break, then cause the sweats. I hoped and prayed I didn’t stink. I have never been a person with very active odor glands, and I have never in my life, save a few, smelled any type of body odor on myself. So, that’s how I assuaged the fear of my stink. I probably did, because I was sweating out nothing but infectious toxins, but no one at work said anything. Not saying that would be something they would speak directly to me about, anyway. That would just be good fodder for gossip.

Today it is three days later and I have not had another drink. I’m still doing the sweat thing, but now it is being caused by the detox. My kidneys still hurt, but not as bad. My body is aching, slightly, all over. I am feeling random sharp pains in different places in my body. These pains will come out-of-the-blue and hit me like a knife in places like one of my ears, or in some part of my leg, arm, back, or shoulder.

I feel much, much better, physically, than I did Sunday or Monday, but now I am alone with Major Depressive Disorder with seemingly no relief. I know I don’t want to drink anymore because at this point there is no denying that I have worn out my kidneys and thought of weekly dialysis scares the shit out of me.

I never had great kidneys to begin with, kidney disease runs rampant on my father’s side of the family, I never met my paternal grandfather because he died eight years before I was born, as a result of kidney failure. I have had problems with my kidneys before I ever began to drink six years ago.

So here I sit, in this tiny little camper, me and my big dog, who is just as depressed as I am, and I wonder if this is what I’m left with? This is no life. This is just breathing…staying alive, but not really being alive. At least alcohol brought some sort of change to the landscape of my thought patterns.

I think about how I won’t be as fun or funny, anymore, without Vodka. Or how I won’t do anymore really cool shit like make international news 2 years in a row. I think about how my YouTube channel which is finally making me money is going to starve because each of the videos were fueled by depression and vodka. Now there’s no vodka.

I feel like I won’t have the confidence or “liquid courage” to do or say whatever I feel like doing or saying. Yeah, I realize it will be replaced with a different confidence, one that I hated not having with the vodka….the kind that allows me to get into a vehicle and go out in public if I need to do so. But the fact is, I probably won’t even do that, because there is nothing I want to do.

So, my question now remains…which is worse? Only time will tell, I suppose.

Advertisements

Gone

I have been very sick lately.

It has been awful.

The anxiety is so thick that if I could remove it from my body, put it in a pot and cook it on the stove, it would make a sturdy roux, but it would taste like straight fuck.

I feel like I am losing my mind at a very rapid pace.

Too much change going on….

I suppose I do not handle change well, anymore.

I used to be able to deal with it, well, in my twenties. Back then, my life was nothing but constant change. But then I got settled down and in and it felt good. I got used to the monotony of doing the same things every day.

I got used to be being a mom, a damn good one. I got used to taking care of my family. I got used to washing dishes and clothes and cooking supper and cleaning the kitchen.

Then one day, everything was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Barefoot

Dropping the weights, the load’s getting lighter..I’m getting monkeys from off of my back….
it’s been quite a struggle, as I’ve had to muddle, barefoot on hot coals with no lack.

Apollo

The alcohol is tearing my stomach up but that doesn’t matter while I fill up my cup

childhood demons coming  hard and fast don’t know how much longer I can last

everywhere I go the trouble seems to follow I put on my nikes and run like Apollo

I wanna get away I don’t want to wallow and the  pill life gives I don’t wanna swallow

so here I am and I’m stuck like stupid because I let an arrow from  cupid

hit my heart in the weakest spot, and now that bitch got me in a headlock

I’m at jesus door going  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK,  answer the door please don’t keep it locked.

I’m standing out here in the pouring ass rain and I hate that I am here once again

it seems like all I feel is nothing but shame, and that is a feeling so loaded with pain

I look all around for someone to blame

I look all around for someone to blame

but they’re gone, not coming back, and now I  feel an anxiety attack

coming to hit me always from the back rubbing my nose in all that I lack

 

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

 

I have to believe it only seems like i’m failing

when the truth is that I am probably sailing

across every ocean always prevailing

even when life seems so unavailing

I am a tough ass bitch this I do know

lemons in my garden are the only thing that grow

eyes all burning but I go with the flow

except I do it backwards, it’s part of my show

One day I will finish this lifetime race

running to the goal of unfettered grace

Jesus in my pocket HE IS MY ACE

it’s hard to believe he hasn’t turned his face

I feel so worthless most of the time

blaming myself for my father’s crimes

but then the wind blows and I can hear the chimes

and the slow still voice points out the landmines

beloved run here, don’t run there

the mothafucking landmines are everywhere

watch where you step, walk with care

and when you feel lonely find the sun and just stare

fuck whose watching…why the fuck care?

if you feel shame just let down your hair

and know they’re all numbered, my dear Sarah

I love all my children but you are fairer

keep that thought close in your desolate land

while you know you can always take my hand

I’ll walk you through the valleys of sand

and Ill get you to the promised land

keep your chin up while you get a tan

the place I am taking you is fucking grand

I tell no lies, I AM the Son of man

I tell no lies, I Am the Son of man

 

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mostly Mine

The struggle brings the knowledge and the knowledge brings the fruit and the fruit is what you make of it, and my fruit is mostly truth.
Honesty is good but in many ways is bad cause when you start speaking it ears don’t get  glad in fact they really hate it honesty is a force for looks inside,  that same exact shit  is the stuff  that makes us hide. ..wearing a mask on every single day, different masks for different people even talking different ways. I was born with several masks, used to wear them all the time,  few I have left and this face is mostly mine.

That One Semester

I think out of all the repurcussions stemming from my childhood, the one that pisses me off the most is that I buried all of my talents.

I am a very creative person, I always have been.  I am both musically and artistically inclined.  I knew I was good at music because my parents forced me to be in the band in Jr. high, and I was excellent at it.  But because they forced me to do it, I became angry with it and I began to hate it, vehemently.

By the time I reached 8th grade, I had multiple superior awards from Solo and Ensemble festivals.  I could play the clarinet like nobody’s business, and I never even practiced, at home.

The summer before 8th grade, I tried out for drum major and I won.  I did practice my ass off to win that prize, but once football season hit and I was out on the field, or leading the band in the bleachers, I quit.

I only was drum major for one game.  It was just way too much spotlight on me leading the band nerds, when all I really wanted was to be free of that dorky shit and hang out with the cool kids.

I could kick my ass for that now….and I guess I do…and I guess I have, for a long time.

My step-mom finally relented on band when I got to high school, and I was set free.  The only reason they let me out of band was because they intended for me to go to LSU and there were several course requirements that had to be met and being in band would take away two credits a year that I could be putting toward Physics and Biology 2.

So…fast forward to High School Graduation…

I graduated with honors and I was, honestly, mind-blown about that.  I ended my high-school career with a 3.67 GPA, which was completely due to my diligent studying 9th and 10th grades.  By the time I got to the middle of my junior year, I was sneaking out, drinking, smoking weed and not giving a fuck about school.  I have no idea how I passed Algebra 2 or Physics my senior year.

But I did.

I was excited to go to college, but I wanted to get as far away from my parent’s house as possible.  I got accepted to every state school to which I applied and when I sat down with my dad to discuss where I would be attending he said to me, “Son, you have two choices.  You can either go to LSU or you can go to LSU.”

My blood boiled.

He said not only could I only go to LSU, but that I could not live in a dorm room, or anything cool like that, I would be living at Salem’s Lot and commuting.

I can’t lie, though, once I settled in my first semester at LSU, I loved it.  The school is huge, I didn’t know ANYONE, there were very friendly squirrels in the Quad, and I really, really enjoyed that one semester.

 

Not Now, nor, forevermore

It makes me mad that I have to watch my back when I walk out my back door to let my dog go pee.

Seriously….I don’t think you know the struggle.

It’s like this everywhere I move.

Now…one might say, “Well, Athena, don’t you think since it happens everywhere you move, that it is possible that YOU ARE THE PROBLEM?

Yeah….I get that.

But the problem is, they do shit FIRST, and so my actions are a fucking REACTION.

And yes…I do realize that neither the black neighbors, nor the white ones, were expecting the reaction they received from their own actions…

NEVERTHELESS….

I put up with way too much shit as a youngster, to take any now.

So fuck them all.

I am the sweetest, most forgiving, loving ASS MEAN BITCH YOU WILL EVER WISH YOU NEVER MET.

An Excercise In Realness

When I woke up, this morning, I can’t lie, I was scared to look at my WordPress account.  It literally took me 2 hours to look.  There were no likes, except from a good friend of mine.

People are so disappointing to me.

I am disappointing to me.

If there is nothing else I get from this blog, it is the opportunity to EXCERCISE REALNESS.

I guess we all just want the “realness” that Reality TV provides….

Seriously??

I was upset yesterday, over a plethora of things of which I wouldn’t write.  I only wanted to write about my anger.

I hate being the bitch who whines about how horrible her life is and how all she wants to do is die.  I refuse to be the bitch who has to preface my post with  ASTERISK  CAUSE  I AM TALKING ABOUT ALL SHIT SUICIDAL.

I ain’t her….but those who are her, get TONS OF LIKES AND ALL THAT “FEELING SORRY FOR YOU CRAP”….I know, because I am the first to like all of those kinds of posts, BECAUSE I RELATE TO THEM.

am i truly that hard to relate?

When I go writing about my real feelings, I  will,  inevitably, always make that shit rhyme, and then instead of someone hearing my real shit that’s going on, they get a nice little poem, because I am still incapable of writing about the REAL SHIT that distresses me.

But last night I got balls to the wall DRUNK.

And honestly…I really do believe I said a bunch of the same shit other people want to say, but won’t because even if they’re drunk….they can’t.

People are the biggest stumbling  block in my life….if only they weren’t.

I would be fucking President….or at least mayor.

Ok…this IS FUNNY…I’m your trap queen

You GOTTA know you reading a BORDERLINE BITCH’S BLOG, when she tries to push away her own followers…

OMG…I am fucking sick.

Therapist?