Non-fiction / Memoirs of a mad woman [a little crazy never hurt anyone] (Analysis)
“My internal world was exceptionally well developed far beyond my years, it was my external world that was causing me anxiety and depression. I was a good kid just a little sensitive and confused for the most part and a little battered and bruised inside and out”
EPISODE:
I am going to describe one of my ‘episodes’ I warn you it’s a little disturbing:
I think first it’s worth mentioning what may be stating the obvious. On appearance I mostly looked like any other kid – I played in playgrounds, I played with toys, I liked to dress up in my Mum and Dads clothes, I liked boys, (or so I thought). You know I had lots of little kid fun. The difference was that lurking constantly in the background was this heavy black cloud of anger. All it would take was one little thing to trigger it, a comment like ‘you’re so stupid’ or ‘I wish you would go away’ or ‘shut up’ etc. if you don’t have a black cloud hanging over your head these things may still upset you but you get to a certain level of low then you plateau for a bit then start to get over it. When your thoughts are thick with fog you also get to that certain level of low and you start to think ‘o oh here we go again’ and you focus on what you believe to be the inevitable. When my thoughts turned foggy I would have what you could call a mantra which for me is “I am a sad and lonely pathetic person, a loser not worthy of being on this earth”. Sending me into the dreaded downward spiral, it’s black in there; a roaring cloud of darkness deafening to my ears. It’s very weight pushing me further and further down. I am deep inside myself, the lights have been switched off, I will only know where I am when I hit the bottom. My rational thoughts become foggier, I no longer have the strength to hold on to them, to fight. The weight is too hard to bare and inevitably I plunge into the big black hole. Losing control my mind.
My head is crazy with disappointment in myself it adds weight too heavy to bare. Why can’t I stop this? My words are silently screaming. I try to put up a fight telling myself that it’s not true, I don’t care, I try everything I possibly can to stop it. Problem is I don’t really know what happened so I try to work it out but in the end I find it easier to believe in the mantra than the positive reinforcement. I would usually go to my room away from prying eyes, possible ridicule and further humiliation. In the quietness of my room I hit the bottom. I let myself completely go I’ve given in leaving way for my deepest darkest thoughts. The negative message runs around and around inside my head it becomes a whirlwind of anger picking up more negative thoughts along the way propelling it to go further. My mantra takes full control, I can’t stop it so I try to make myself feel better by grabbing chunks of hair and yanking it hard from my head. I get angrier for allowing this to happen again. I have forgotten what started it. My anger turns completely on myself, why can I not control this? Make it stop. I start punching myself in the head as hard as I can, the physical pain’s not nearly as bad as the mental and emotional pain. I hurl myself against the wardrobe door and smash my head as hard as I possibly can all the while silently screaming not wanting to disturb anyone else in the house. It then becomes a series of as much abuse as I can manage to my head, the physical pain still no match for the mental pain. I want it to stop but nothing seems to work. I think I would be better off dead.
I grab a sharp object and start cutting my wrists, watching the beautiful red blood dripping down my arm. I begin to cry, I can’t do it, I can’t kill myself, I can’t even do that right I don’t think I deserve the elation that comes with death; the freedom from my mind is a joy that belongs to someone else not someone as pathetic as me. I cry myself to the point of pure exhaustion; I fall asleep.
I was 7 years old.
The last time this happened was in February 2008. It’s happened too many times throughout my life and I hope that last Feb is the last time or at least the last for a long long time. I am exhausted at the mere thought of it so I will have to stop for now… I will be back in a day or so.
Thought of the day: I have to battle with myself everyday to not let this happen anymore “I am not that person anymore, don’t allow yourself to go there Sonja, you are stronger than this”
BEFORE I CONTINUE:
Isn’t the idea of reading someones journal exciting? Don’t you just love the thought of knowing someones secrets? To know what’s going on behind closed doors? You never know what you are going to find! My bet is most of us have deep dark secrets or thoughts, feelings, issues that we keep well hidden making our apearance as pleasant and acceptable as possible. I love learning about peoples hidden qualities, those are the things that make us unique. I don’t expect them to be pleasant as long as they are yours.
I’m pretty accepting of most people, I have to be. I guess you may have noticed I suffer from depression ! (I love stating the obvious) so although it may seem like I am repeating myself at times and I am; that’s the nature of my depression. My mind gets stuck in a viscous cycle unable to think about anything else. This includes the times when I am feeling well. I am always working very hard at understanding my thought patterns so I repeat them over and over again trying to trace them back to where they began. It’s really hard because the thoughts at their conception are cloudy so trying to find a clear pattern is not easy. Also it is exhausting repeating myself, it takes a lot out of me and often this means, hopefully I just stop trying and give myself a break; or worse case it drives me back to depression. I have to keep my wits about me or I will drive myself nuts. If I’m not careful and allow myself to get to the point of exhaustion my defenses are down and I can’t stop myself. In this scenario as I am the cause, I pushed myself too far. I pass through go and straight into the jail in my mind. So to justify things I head for the bottle shop and buy alcohol and hide away where no one can see me, I am alone and pathetic I look around me, no one else is here, see! living proof of my pathetic existence. I drink myself into oblivion. With depression logic and reason have their own existence, I know alcohol makes it worse but that’s logical with a grounded common sense, when depressed I think alcohol is going to drown out my thoughts make them stop. Instead it makes me useless, incapable of any movement physical or mental and it most certainly does some serious emotional damage.
STAGE ONE: harsh lessons learned
I was brought up in a house where children were seen and not heard, where speak only if you are spoken to, go watch the grass grow. Stand over tactics, finger pointed squarely in my face. I am the adult therefore I am right! You must listen to everything I say and do as you are told or else… go to your room, get out of my hair, go play outside, stop crying or I will give you something to cry about! Said in a different way this could sound funny! However; my family severely lacked a sense of humour. We’ve all heard these things before, it passes from generation to generation but for a kid like me well… I hated being a kid, I thought it was a pointless existence. Clothes, hair, crushes, popularity who cares! I still don’t really care about that stuff (accept the crushes they’re fun). I totally missed the point, now of course I long for a life less complicated (scoff), I’m learning to be a kid and it’s fun. Kids are great, I’ve got two nephews and a neice, the little buggers love me a lot so I better enjoy it while they are young because when they grow up they might realise what a pain in the arse I am hehehe
I guess that’s why I took grown ups so seriously, I wanted to be one. I took everything they said literally I thought if I didn’t believe them I really would be stupid as it was the only conclusion to draw. Or worse, I would suffer the consequences. To me these were real fears not to be taken lightly, I never took anything lightly.
I’v always had a mind of my own; I always wanted to know why even when I should have learned to keep my mouth shut. So many times I remember wanting to know something and being given some dismissive response. I knew if I asked again I would be pushing it but I would ask anyway. I would get yelled at, I knew I would but I just never knew why. So I would think of a different way to ask the question and I would ask it; simple! Next thing I know I’m on the floor with my arms wrapped around my head to protect it, I can feel my Dad’s foot pounding into my stomach over an over again. Then bam a whoolop across the head again and again and again. I know he wants me to apologise for talking back I also know that if I do it won’t make him stop so I hold off as long as I can because at least I can maintain some kind of dignity within myself. This was an all too familiar pattern that was repeated many times throughout my life. I knew that what I had done did not deserve this treatment, I knew that nothing deserved this treatment. I was not going to allow my Dad to take away my mind, if I had nothing else I would not allow my ability to think for myself taken away from me. Dad was not the only one, the mental and emotional abuse I felt from my sisters and kids at school were all a threat to my very being. My older sister seemed to prefer to humiliate me than comfort me. She made it seem like she thought I deserved to be treated like this because I needed to learn to shut my mouth therefore it was okay to humiliate me. My Mum made my Dad out to be the bad guy so when we did something wrong “wait till your Dad gets home” was the threat. Dad gets home, punishes us for whatever reason Mum gave him, no questions asked - problem is Dad always went too far depending on how his day had been at work would determine how far he would go. This is where Mum’s plan was really flawed as she could not stop Dad. The worst I got was a black eye and fat lip once which is nothing compared to what others get. My family seemed to be more concerned with ignoring each other keeping as much distance as possible all accept Mum she pushed us together. In some ways it was good she did, who knows if we would all still know each other had she not but in other ways she should have learned to leave well enough alone. I say that because it seemed all my sisters wanted to do was hurt me and all I wanted was to love and be loved and I had no idea how to do that. We had no respect for each others feelings and we still don’t to a degree. Respectability and communication does not exist in our family.
When I was a kid I was like my Mum, I just wanted to love everyone, hang out with them, be a part of their lives. Instead I got pushed away like my Mum. I felt left out, ignored. You see when you feel left out it tends to be because you are different, the way I approached things was not the way it was supposed to be done. All I thought I was doing was showing an interest in what others were doing and that I would love to know all about it but instead it seemed I was saying “pick on me I’m a loser”. Square peg round hole comes to mind. Regardless if I was or wasn’t different I felt I was treated like I was, I was treated like a loser, walked over, ignored, bullied, teased, humiliated at school even by teachers and at home and more recently at work, it still bloody happens! Why?
LETTER TO MY GRADE 5 TEACHER:
In writing class recently we had to write a letter to someone and tell them something that we never had a chance to say, I wrote to my grade 5 teacher:
To dear Mrs L,
I just wanted to point out to you that as my grade 5 teacher it is your responsibility to invest time in all your students not just the popular ones. I would also like to mention that not all of us are the same, some of us need more care than others as we are deserving of respect and understanding also. As I am only 10yrs old I am not yet aware of my differences and I won’t truly be till I am 32yrs old. Are you aware that your treatment of me has shaped me in many ways during the course of my life? Forever burnt into my memory is the day that Melanie* stole my diary and began reading it out loud, as she like almost all the other students in the class were a hell of a lot taller than me I could not reach my diary to snatch it from her nasty hands so I punched her in the stomach. Now let’s see, what did you do? Oh yeah thats right! Oblivious to the already ensuing racket of my cries to get my diary back you conveniently appear after I have punched Melanie an act I believe was justified. Then you proceed to poke me in my upper body whilst abusing me with your words completely ignoring my attempts to have my say; BITCH! You nearly pushed me down a flight of stairs. Where was your duty of care? People like you should never be allowed to teach!
That was fun!
I am writing this book to get it out of my head and into the world so I can identify then understand each part of the lost pieces of the puzzle slowly finding each piece and putting it together so that I can think and feel at a manageable level. I realise it’s ok to be sad, angry, lonely, happy, excited. I need to learn to feel these emotions without going to the extreme. I have written this book in the form of a journal not a daily this is what I did today way but as entries of my thoughts when they arise to see how they have progressed. I have written it this way so that you and I can get an idea of how someone with depression thinks, thought patterns, problem solving, decision making, realisations. We all think in our own unique way this is just to give you an idea on how someone with a mental illness might think (I will say this many times “it’s the best therapy). Look at my thoughts as like those test patterns for monitoring brain activity accept done in words, the needle etchings represent my thought patterns. The ups and downs are exactly that and all the ones in the middle are where things are starting to make sense. Also I haven’t included dates because thoughts, theories, experiences of this nature are not date specific. They are a constant ebb and flow, I get an idea and work on it for a while till I work out how it fits into my world. The stages I go through may seem stagnate and are definitely not clear cut, I don’t transcend smoothly from one stage to the next, wherever I go my problems will follow, that’s both mentally and physically. Things overlap and sometimes congregate into a muddied mess so I’ve got to dig my nails in and climb that muddied wall. No one else can do it for me.
Thought of the day: “Prevention is better than cure”
For me depression has it’s own logic; it’s a whirlwind of thoughts and it’s only when I hit the bottom of the big black hole that I have a clear thought, my deepest darkest thought. I want to die, my life has no meaning. The world would be a better place without me.
When I’m surviving I’m strong and full of logic, humane logic. I feel really positive about myself, I’m intelligent, cultured, attractive and kind. So why do I get depressed?
That I could not have answered 10 years ago.
My coping mechanism was to keep moving forward, trudging uphill through the muddied thoughts until I can see my way clear.
It took me years to learn what triggered my depression as when I come out of it I’ve forgotten how it happened, not because I don’t want to know but because depression for me is always there waiting to rear it’s ugly head. So when I start to spiral down it’s an unconscious thing I couldn’t control. It’s random. If you don’t know why it’s happening then you don’t know what triggers it.
Thankfully I’ve learned some very hard lessons the last few years, the most valuable lessons I have ever learned.
RANDOM THEORIES:
In this world a lot of us are passionate about sports, athletes, hollywood actors, musicians, supermodels. A world where obesity and anorexia, stress, depression, suicide, bullying, crimes, war, drug addiction and alcoholism are getting far worse. Where fortune, fame and power are the ultimate goal. I wonder why we don’t have that passion about ourselves and the kind of person we are to everybody else? I’m not saying everyone finds happiness in material possessions and external forces but it is becoming common.
Is our thirst for fame and money and power linked to health problems and substance abuse? Why do people think it will make them happy? Why don’t we look inside ourselves to find happiness? Everyone just wants to believe in something or focus on something, do we believe in ourselves anymore? Do we care? Unfortunately I have more questions than answers because I know what is right for me may not be for others.
Just a theory…
I think about these things too much I know and it’s not healthy for me to do so but I really think it’s time for a change and I know there’s many others that agree. Isn’t awareness the first step.
THIS IS MY THERAPY:
This has been a journey, my therapy. So many things have become clear through writing this book. I have now worked out where my depression comes from, how it has manifested itself throughout my life and I have solid tools with which to grow from. I’m not saying that I have it all worked out and it’s easy living from here on in but I have a strong foundation to fall upon. The mud is drying, I can now pick myself up, dust myself off and keep moving forward. The thing about depression is it’s indiscriminate, it affects anyone at any time. It can be chemical, situational or a long slow road that all of a sudden takes control of life. I want to dispel the stereotype, the stigma; help people to see the signs, they are not obvious. People need to know it’s okay that there is life at the end of the tunnel. It’s not about how smart you are or how rich, it’s about you. I can show you how to help yourself. All you need is to open eyes, ears and mind and a sense of humour is important too. Who better to have a sense of humour than people who suffer from depression.
Thought of the day: We are made up of pieces of a puzzle. I’m just trying to find my pieces and put them together one at a time. If others learn from my story then that is a bonus…
ACKNOWLEDGMENT:
I would like to begin with acknowledging my life at this point, “am I worth it”? I can honestly say for the first time I think I am. It’s not complete or whole yet, I don’t think I am “worth it” all that often, but it’s a start.
You see it’s been a very long and bumpy road so far and I’m only 33. I’m in a better place now but it wasn’t always like this.
Confused and sensitive and yeah a little angry about everything, nothing, everybody and no one but myself. The older I got the angrier I got, no self esteem, in constant fear of myself. But when my anger erupted it made me feel powerful, it gave me a false sense of confidence. I was ready for anything, if anyone tried to push me out of the way I would throw them to the ground. If someone disagreed with me I would yell all sorts of obscenities. I thought I could take on the world! The problem was you could knock me over with a feather if you saw through my thin veil. Sadly, a pathetic excuse of a shield. One of the reasons I think I survived through this is because I always had a ray of hope that life was not meant to be like this, that I was not meant to be like this.
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You’ve taken on an immensely difficult subject – the origins and lifelong effects of depression. You’ve chosen to do this with yourself – or your “self”, the self you assume when you write, which is by no means the same thing. And you’ve made it into a harrowing and very painful read. Reading about it is like temporarily living inside someone else’s headache, and not, I might add, in a good way.
Which is one of the two worst things I have to say.
You’re the first to admit in your notes to the reviewer that your grasp on orthography is slightly shaky, and that any suggestions would be appreciated. I’ll start with those. I know that spelling of some words differs from the US to the UK and Australia, yet certain rules do apply. Watch out for:
It’s – is a contraction of it and is. It’s terrible, for example. To convey possession, “the monster gripped her in its hairy grasp” – you drop the apostrophe.
Beware the homonym – the words that sound the same but are spelled differently, and can mean completely different things. Accept is a world away from except – as in – “an exception to the rule”
And beware the bear! Bare is usually meant as a synonym for naked, and it created an unintentional howler when I came across “the pain was more than I could bare”. I like to think the word you’re looking for here is “bear” – not the four-legged variety, mind!
There are three indispensible tools I can recommend to any aspiring writer, Those are: a good word-processing program, which does not have to be MS Word (an astonishing program called OpenOffice is available for free, and it comes with a spell-checker), the Chicago Manual of Style, to help with explaining those horrible rules of punctuation and grammar, and finally, a good dictionary. Words are your friends and your tools. Hone your words finely enough, and you can rule the world – at least in print!
Lastly, we come to the content. You can certainly string sentences together, and you are coherent and clear. You manage to convey your pain – of both your younger and your older self – exquisitely. Reading it made me feel very uncomfortable, which you should take to mean you’ve succceeded in getting your point across. This was a harrowing read, and I mean that in the best possible sense of the word.
You also state some important things about depression itself. In a world ever more obsessed with, shall we say, “the outer skin”, depression is becoming more and more common – or else more frequently diagnosed – when we imperfect souls realize just how short we fall at the fences of fame, fortune, It Bags and good looks. That certainly made me think, and what’s more, think that you have a very valid point!
As a sufferer of depression, you are in the best possible company. Scores of artists, writers, musicians and very many of the great minds of the world suffered – or indeed, suffer – from debilitating depression, and it is – debilitating. The trick is to use it to your advantage, and for that, I think you’re well on your way!
From one writer to another, and from one end of the world to the other – I wish you only success, good luck and a very big, pointy word-sword with which to slay your demons!
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This is both better and worse than the draft I read originally. It might be hard, but it’s important for the reader to be able to focus on what your point is—what is your point exactly? The opening with the episode works very well, and I see you’ve made paragraphs out of another sentence with a different effect which worked great in that context. I see style developing slowly but surely here, and begin to see your “writers voice” forming. The last sentence is a great line and sign of self awareness that should be expanded on. What showed you hope, for example? You’ve added alot of new material here, to the tune of some seven pages of new text which need grammatical and punctuation fixes. The story seems to get lost in those additions, it wanders all over and never feels like it gets back on track. More anecdotes like the episode paragraphs or the scene in the school would help break up the randomness and give the thing a sense of direction. Is there places in the extra text where you can insert a scene so as to show the reader rather than tell the reader what is going on?
Overall, focus on your message—what are you trying to say, and what anecdotes could you use to say it instead of telling us outright? It’s not to say that everything you say needs to have an anecdote, but perhaps alot of it could be illustrated for the reader that way to make it more interesting and keep them in the story. I like some randomness; it does how us how unevenly and sporadic your mind works. Wandering here and there is ok as long as in the end you’re back on track to what you’re trying to accomplish.
This is a very moving piece. The nasties inside me are different from the ones you have (you could check out the beginning of my memoir posted here & I’d love comments) I think the strongest parts are the vivid descriptions of the rage and depression in the early years and how they built. I really felt like I was inside your mind, and that stuff is not easy to describe in such a real way.
I’m not clear whether this is chapter one of a long piece and if so, what the development is. I think you will work this towards being publishable as you develop more parts of it. I think it will be more effective to put the childhood parts in one place and the later reflections in other chapters, but I’m not sure. I wanted more of the childhood images and events—they were so chilling, enough depress anyone!
I’m guessing it’s just right to keep on writing and see how the form develops as you go.
Some brilliant images/phrases:
I pass through go and straight into the jail in my mind.
Stand over tactics
I thought you didn’t need to explain this part—“Also I haven’t included dates because thoughts, theories, experiences of this nature are not date specific. They are a constant ebb and flow, I get an idea and work on it for a while till I work out how it fits into my world. The stages I go through may seem stagnate and are definitely not clear cut, I don’t transcend smoothly from one stage to the next, wherever I go my problems will follow, that’s both mentally and physically. Things overlap and sometimes congregate into a muddied mess so I’ve got to dig my nails in and climb that muddied wall. No one else can do it for me.”—but then that line about congregate into a muddied mess was terrific!
details of spelling etc since you asked.
It’s very weight pushing/ Its very weight (this kind of its gets no apostrophe)
too hard to bare/ too hard to bear [and better not to repeat this phrase next sentence]
viscous cycle / vicious cycle
all accept Mum / all except Mum
accept done in words / except done in words
depression has it’s own logic, rear it’s ugly head / again its not it’s
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