spinning when i want to stand still

Hello again.  This is Susan from myketaminestory.com.  I noticed that I haven’t been capable of writing lately.  I am not taking time to journal.  I feel like I am spinning when all I really want is to stop and just stand still.  I want to take in the moment.  I want to breathe in life. I feel stressed.  I am miserable.  I am aware.  I have questions.  I always have questions.  I have more questions than I have people to ask them.  And recently I have been posting poetry that I have written in the past as a way to keep my website updated when I need to attend to my mental health.  I just keep spinning.  I get sick.  I think most would.  I had my Ketamine shot Monday night.  It was intense.  I have cried during my infusions and a couple times when I received my shots but most of the time crying is the last thing I want to do.   I usually feel substantially better within 10 or 15 minutes after my shot.  This last treatment, I cried a lot.  At the time I thought I understood why all the tears.  I even accepted my inability to will them to stop.  I needed to purge.  I have been carrying a lot of baggage and it was unbearably heavy.  I figured it was time to unload.  It was killing me.  You know, that’s what my first impression was of my last Ketamine session.  Now that I have had time to process my session I realize something even more profound.

During my session I kept saying I want to heal me.  I want to heal me.  I repeated this statement over and over as my voice grew.  I want to heal me.  I NEED to heal me.  It felt great shouting it.  I am staring at the ceiling and it appears to be a window.  Many windows.  I am tracing the frames with my eyes.  I switched to whispering I want to save me.  I want to save me. I want to save me.  All the while bawling my eyes out.  I NEED to save me!  I felt as the session was coming to an end that I had vomited up so much garbage that I should feel amazing.  I did not.  I didn’t feel anything but anger.  I have so much anger.  I am so afraid of it.  I unloaded for over an hour.  My doctor had to reschedule a meeting he wanted to attend because I was pouring and dumping all my trash in his lap making it impossible for him to get up and abandon me.  I am not proud of this.  I dislike feeling needy.  I didn’t want to hold on to all that contamination any longer.  I need new luggage.  And I promise I will get a genuine, true to self, set too. In the meantime, I have to work with the damaged bags I have acquired over time.

The fact that I kept digging deeper and felt completely empty didn’t stop the tears and I continued to whine to my doctor.  I didn’t want to leave his office until I was happy.  I refused a few times to set an appointment.  I couldn’t go. I needed to resolve what felt broken.  I realize now, a day and a half later, what I believe is the root of my latest turmoil.  I felt I had emptied myself and I was standing in front of my ego.  My ego is shoving back.  The door ahead of me is anger.  It has always been the root.  I mean the core is my debilitating depression and anxiety.  Which is out of my control.  I have not yet accepted this to be true.  I am still trying very hard with all my might to control this illness.  I can not.  I am pissed.

When I got to the empty space in my mind I was standing in front of a vault of a wall.  I look up at my doctor and say, okay I think I am at the bottom now.  I have purged it all.  All but the anger that is.  I know that discovering this felt positive and genuine.  I felt strong.  I wanted to feel uplifted.  I want to shed no more tears; ever.  I know it doesn’t work that way.  I know crying is healthy and can feel really good.  BUT…  I am afraid tears mean or equate to treatment resistant depression and suicidal thoughts.

Once I was able to leave my doctor’s office I have been reviewing and analyzing our time together to death.  And it hit me last night.  I want to save me.  I want to heal me.  It was the message.  I was crying out because I don’t feel like I am being heard. I am crying for those lost.  I am crying because the very thing I want most is interfering with my personal recovery.  I want to spread the word.  Ketamine is Hope.  I am driven to help others find their way to Ketamine therapy.  I am making progress.  People are reaching out to me.  Those contacting me are not just those like me but professionals too.  I am so excited and thrilled.  I am also completely overwhelmed.  I want to spread the word; to be an advocate for Ketamine.  I don’t want to jeopardize my healing.  I want both.  I thought the website was perfect for me.  I could express myself creatively and educate others on Ketamine.   This is a reality.  I am thrilled.  I want more voices for Ketamine.  I want people talking about it.  I do.

I now see my last Ketamine experience clearly.  I want to save me.  I need to heal me.  I have always been able to write as a way to process.  I recently felt anxious at the thought of writing.  What is that about??  I have never.  I have felt anxious if I need to write and have no paper or pen.  It finally occurred to me that I usually wrote without any audience in mind.  I wrote for me.  I need to write for me.  I enjoy it.  It is healing.  I never think about why I am writing.  I am writing to express myself in a world I often feel an alien in.

Well, I started this website to advocate for Ketamine and thought little of anything else.  The problem (and it isn’t really an issue per say) for me is people are being introduced to my website.  A few have reached out which is phenomenal.  I have been clueless for so long and it feels amazing to discover others using Ketamine therapy with very much the same results.  However,  I am now aware that people are reading my words.  I honestly freaked out.  I mean what do I have to say?  I no longer knew what to say.  What do people want to know?  What should I share? What resources should I add? What is useful? What is self indulgent?  OCD thinking has made a permanent residence in my mind.  I am spinning.  Spinning.  I mean there are so many ways to approach my website.  I have seen a few other Ketamine advocate sites and of course I think mine is crap in comparison and why bother.  I have nothing to say of value.  And I keep spinning.

It was only after my Ketamine shot on Monday night that I  felt myself scream out to get my attention!  I was dying to get myself to pay attention to me.  I am always saying I never feel heard.  Funny.  Ironic.  I am the one that wasn’t listening.  My anxiety and driven personality they want and need me to be 100%, all the time, to all people.  I lose myself in others.  I would start to write, to blog and erase it.  I was writing in a style unfamiliar to me.  I figured my way was definitely the wrong method to truly advocate for Ketamine and kept switching it up in my head.  I kept spinning.  I couldn’t write.  Writing is my therapy.  It has also been my way to stay sane.  My world made up of feelings and language.  Perfectly safe.  I shared very little of my writing over the years.  No more.  I opened myself up.  I am allowing my words to be seen and read.  What if it is not good enough?  What if I am not good enough?  I am now aware of others with Ketamine websites and they are great.  I ask more questions to myself.  Do I need to be more like them? Do I? Do I need to change to fit in? And once again… the spinning and anger.  I just want to write to keep my head above water.  I need to write to make sense out of a world that is complicated and confusing.  I need to write to heal.  I need to write to save myself.

So, you see my Ketamine session was once again enlightening.  I sit here in a pool of anxiety.  I will push through it.  I can push through the discomfort because I found Ketamine.  I feel free.  I can write.  I am not writing to anyone special but yet I am!  I write for all parts of me.  I have chosen to share as a way to advocate this miraculous drug therapy for treatment resistant depression.  My words may annoy many.  There will be haters.  I may fail.  I may not be 100% perfect.  And that doesn’t sit well with me.  I want to be the best.  I want to save all.  I want to have that accomplished by yesterday.

I am spinning.  I must stop.  I am climbing up that vast staircase that keeps disintegrating beneath my feet.  I keep at it.  Maybe just maybe?  Maybe my style of writing and expressing myself will communicate and comfort.  It is possible that my writings may also reach into the depths of a dying soul and give them hope.  Hope is something I was looking for when Ketamine entered my life.  I want to offer that in return.

The spinning is slowing.  I am gaining ground again.  I need to listen to my words and pleas too.  I have decide to go back to writing to the my voices in my head.  I may approach that one unique voice and write with my heart in my fingertips and it will be so powerful.  It will awaken the dead.  It will allow me to help a person suffering. What I have learned is that person is me.  I want to save me.  I want to heal me.  I am.  I write for me.  I hope my words speak volumes to you and you gain a little something from my journey.  I really do.  That will be a remarkable bonus for me.  It can not be my objective.  My inner child was shouting and I am listening.  I am no longer spinning.  I am standing still.  Just breathing.

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