08 Apr 2017 - Crash
Evening.
Day 44 on escitalopram.
Mood: Seven, and two.
Today was the first day of field work for the pollinator inventory that I'm being paid to assist with. We hiked up a trail - clambering over some rocks, crossing a tiny stream under a tinier waterfall - and solidified our methods in this big, beautiful semi-wooded area that was absolutely carpeted with flowers. There were tons of blue-eyed maries, dense patches of Virginia bluebells, vibrant dwarf larkspurs, showy celandine poppies, spring beauties, violets and pansies in many colors, quizzical Dutchman's breeches, equally quizzical squirrel corn, blue phlox - we even saw a few white trout lilies, which are apparently rare. While the rest of my team - my professor and the two graduate students gathering data for the inventory and for their own projects - were figuring out how they were arranging pan traps and doing floral abundance assessments, I wandered around, armed with a net and a field bag, seeing what I could find. We jokingly call the field bags "bandoliers of death", partly because that's more or less what they are, shoulder bags filled with vials of cyanide, partly because it's just a damn cool name.
Anyway, I looked for bees, initially only finding queen bumblebees, which I did not catch; however, as the morning warmed, I saw much more activity, mostly on the blue eyed mary. I didn't have a whole lot of success catching things, at least I don't feel that I did, since there were a lot of woody, twiggy things that made making a full swing with the net challenging. I saw honey bees (which, in my mind, shouldn't even count as real bees), andrenids, what I believe was a male eucerine, and some tiny things that I couldn't readily identify. Beyond bees, though, I saw so, so many beautiful insects. There were various tiger beetles, paper wasps, ichneumons, red admirals, some unidentified Polygonia butterfly, tons of duskywings, little lubber nymphs, wolf spiders, crab spiders, orb weavers, and even a few damselflies.
Eventually, my attention drifted from strictly colorful flowers and plentiful arthropods to other living things in the landscape. Are you tired of reading lists of things that I saw? How unfortunate. There was a lot of moss diversity, and many had sporophytes; I deeply regret not taking photos. There were even some cool mushrooms and bract fungi - which is an odd thing for me to say, since I have a hatred and phobia of fungus. Perhaps that fear is lessening over time?
The point of all this is that while I was at the site, walking around, looking for bees and at insects and flowers and plants and listening to birds and the stream flowing nearby, I was happy. I was happy in a pure, rare way; happy in the moment, happy to be alive and breathing and warmed by the morning sun. I was happy, and I wasn't afraid of the inevitable moment that the happiness would end. I felt light, and correct; I felt whole, in my element, doing something I love and am challenged by and am proficient at. I wasn't concerned about the past, or about the future; I was perfectly content to live in the present. For those precious moments, the pain and darkness that normally plagues me lifted from my mind. The hours I spent in the field were the best I've had in a very, very long time.
And then I had to come back to my dorm.
The happiness I'd felt doing field work evaporated rapidly, as recognition of my truest state reemerged. The pain returned, slowly at first, then in a swift cascade. I wanted to turn to Favorite Person, to talk things out with her, but after hearing the toll that I've taken on her, that her concern for me has taken...I couldn't. I couldn't do it. And without her, I have no mirrors to remind me of how things are, outside of my tainted mind. A desire to die grew as the hours dragged on, not hot or impatient or loud. Just a silent understanding that it would be better for everyone that is connected to me - for Favorite Person, for Soul Sister, for my mother and sister and everyone else - if I ceased to exist. All I seem to do is cause other people pain, and all I really am is an inconvenience to anyone that gets involved, gets attached.
Every high is followed by a low, a low that is magnitudes worse. If I didn't have research projects that need completed, and groups that I'd be letting down, I'd wish to not wake up tomorrow.
The world would be better if I'd never been born.
I don't know
Who I am anymore
08 Apr 2017
Day 44 on escitalopram.
Mood: Seven, and two.
Today was the first day of field work for the pollinator inventory that I'm being paid to assist with. We hiked up a trail - clambering over some rocks, crossing a tiny stream under a tinier waterfall - and solidified our methods in this big, beautiful semi-wooded area that was absolutely carpeted with flowers. There were tons of blue-eyed maries, dense patches of Virginia bluebells, vibrant dwarf larkspurs, showy celandine poppies, spring beauties, violets and pansies in many colors, quizzical Dutchman's breeches, equally quizzical squirrel corn, blue phlox - we even saw a few white trout lilies, which are apparently rare. While the rest of my team - my professor and the two graduate students gathering data for the inventory and for their own projects - were figuring out how they were arranging pan traps and doing floral abundance assessments, I wandered around, armed with a net and a field bag, seeing what I could find. We jokingly call the field bags "bandoliers of death", partly because that's more or less what they are, shoulder bags filled with vials of cyanide, partly because it's just a damn cool name.
Anyway, I looked for bees, initially only finding queen bumblebees, which I did not catch; however, as the morning warmed, I saw much more activity, mostly on the blue eyed mary. I didn't have a whole lot of success catching things, at least I don't feel that I did, since there were a lot of woody, twiggy things that made making a full swing with the net challenging. I saw honey bees (which, in my mind, shouldn't even count as real bees), andrenids, what I believe was a male eucerine, and some tiny things that I couldn't readily identify. Beyond bees, though, I saw so, so many beautiful insects. There were various tiger beetles, paper wasps, ichneumons, red admirals, some unidentified Polygonia butterfly, tons of duskywings, little lubber nymphs, wolf spiders, crab spiders, orb weavers, and even a few damselflies.
Eventually, my attention drifted from strictly colorful flowers and plentiful arthropods to other living things in the landscape. Are you tired of reading lists of things that I saw? How unfortunate. There was a lot of moss diversity, and many had sporophytes; I deeply regret not taking photos. There were even some cool mushrooms and bract fungi - which is an odd thing for me to say, since I have a hatred and phobia of fungus. Perhaps that fear is lessening over time?
The point of all this is that while I was at the site, walking around, looking for bees and at insects and flowers and plants and listening to birds and the stream flowing nearby, I was happy. I was happy in a pure, rare way; happy in the moment, happy to be alive and breathing and warmed by the morning sun. I was happy, and I wasn't afraid of the inevitable moment that the happiness would end. I felt light, and correct; I felt whole, in my element, doing something I love and am challenged by and am proficient at. I wasn't concerned about the past, or about the future; I was perfectly content to live in the present. For those precious moments, the pain and darkness that normally plagues me lifted from my mind. The hours I spent in the field were the best I've had in a very, very long time.
And then I had to come back to my dorm.
The happiness I'd felt doing field work evaporated rapidly, as recognition of my truest state reemerged. The pain returned, slowly at first, then in a swift cascade. I wanted to turn to Favorite Person, to talk things out with her, but after hearing the toll that I've taken on her, that her concern for me has taken...I couldn't. I couldn't do it. And without her, I have no mirrors to remind me of how things are, outside of my tainted mind. A desire to die grew as the hours dragged on, not hot or impatient or loud. Just a silent understanding that it would be better for everyone that is connected to me - for Favorite Person, for Soul Sister, for my mother and sister and everyone else - if I ceased to exist. All I seem to do is cause other people pain, and all I really am is an inconvenience to anyone that gets involved, gets attached.
Every high is followed by a low, a low that is magnitudes worse. If I didn't have research projects that need completed, and groups that I'd be letting down, I'd wish to not wake up tomorrow.
The world would be better if I'd never been born.
I don't know
Who I am anymore
08 Apr 2017
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