Going There
I'm writing mostly so that there will actually be something new to read when people check in (all 7 of you - no really - there's 7 of you - plus the occasional random stranger.) To be perfectly honest I have just been extremely depressed lately (I'll try to not let this turn into a completely boring, predictable, cliched "I'm depressed" blog rant.) And I'll try to stop using parentheses. Ok, something weird is going on right this very second. I smell Vicks VapoRub. I know, I know, shut up already w/ the Vicks, but, um, I haven't been using it all week and right now the scent is permeating my breathing space. I'm also downstairs, and far away from where I use the stuff in the first place. It also feels cold in here. And the cats keep wigging out. I heard a weird *bump* earlier, and both the cats were staring in that direction. Now they keep getting really focused and staring at nothing. Well, nothing that I can see. So am I saying I think there are ghosts here or something? No, not really. But I wouldn't doubt it.
As for the depression... how is it possible to be in your thirties and feel like a fucking 17 year old? What's next, I dig out my old Cure tapes and start smoking cloves, wow, maybe I could even drop a hit and go stalking around in the graveyard! Ok, just making fun of myself for a second but the thing is, depression is not funny, and what's really not great is that somehow I'm sort of kind of good at hiding how severe it really gets (try telling that to the next asshole that asks me to "Smile!", right?) Which reminds me that I had a dream where a complete stranger walked up to me and asked "Why are you always sad?" God that pissed me off in the dream. Cause I'm thinking, "Who the fuck are you, and why are you saying that?"
Depression can make kindness and friendliness hurt. You can't reciprocate, not the way you'd like to. You withdraw, withhold. I withdraw, I withhold. What should feel warm and comfortable, say dinner with family on Thanksgiving, starts to feel hot and claustrophobic, or cold and flat. Flat. Things flatten. Like your lungs, breathing becoming shallow. To finally say your goodbyes, and walk out into the rain and feel grateful. To give thanks. Finally alone.
Tonight I was on the phone with a friend, and though I was quiet, mostly listening, the conversation was not unpleasant. What my friend didn't know was that throughout much of the time we talked I had tears rolling down my face, and I don't even know why. He is someone I don't need to hide from and yet I did just that. The doors to the outside were closing all around me, and topics that should've lured me out instead set off alarm bells, and security gate after security gate came slamming down. As the receiver clicked down the gates flew wide open, the guards at the loony bin off duty, the patient is free to wander the halls and scream at will.
There was no screaming. Just a bunch of used Kleenex. Yes it's true we create our own prisons. In theory the planner should know the best way to go about the deconstruction, the demolition, the rebuilding. The weight bearing walls. A lot of fucking weight. Yeah, a lotta damned weight.
As for the depression... how is it possible to be in your thirties and feel like a fucking 17 year old? What's next, I dig out my old Cure tapes and start smoking cloves, wow, maybe I could even drop a hit and go stalking around in the graveyard! Ok, just making fun of myself for a second but the thing is, depression is not funny, and what's really not great is that somehow I'm sort of kind of good at hiding how severe it really gets (try telling that to the next asshole that asks me to "Smile!", right?) Which reminds me that I had a dream where a complete stranger walked up to me and asked "Why are you always sad?" God that pissed me off in the dream. Cause I'm thinking, "Who the fuck are you, and why are you saying that?"
Depression can make kindness and friendliness hurt. You can't reciprocate, not the way you'd like to. You withdraw, withhold. I withdraw, I withhold. What should feel warm and comfortable, say dinner with family on Thanksgiving, starts to feel hot and claustrophobic, or cold and flat. Flat. Things flatten. Like your lungs, breathing becoming shallow. To finally say your goodbyes, and walk out into the rain and feel grateful. To give thanks. Finally alone.
Tonight I was on the phone with a friend, and though I was quiet, mostly listening, the conversation was not unpleasant. What my friend didn't know was that throughout much of the time we talked I had tears rolling down my face, and I don't even know why. He is someone I don't need to hide from and yet I did just that. The doors to the outside were closing all around me, and topics that should've lured me out instead set off alarm bells, and security gate after security gate came slamming down. As the receiver clicked down the gates flew wide open, the guards at the loony bin off duty, the patient is free to wander the halls and scream at will.
There was no screaming. Just a bunch of used Kleenex. Yes it's true we create our own prisons. In theory the planner should know the best way to go about the deconstruction, the demolition, the rebuilding. The weight bearing walls. A lot of fucking weight. Yeah, a lotta damned weight.
posted by Black Egg at 11:38 PM
2 Comments:
hey!-stalking around in a graveyard is madd cool-lol-mmphh(arms crossed and glaring)
And ya can score some awesome pics too(see the one of Erin on my myspace in the General section).
oh-i like parantheses btw:)
But hey,I'm not belittling or making light of yr feelings.there's really not much you can do when yr overwhelmed-'cept mayhaps ride it out.
Consider renting 'Dandelion'-it fucking killed me so sad so brutal emotionally.And yes-when yr feeling that fucked up it kinda does impact on others-especially when they can't reach you.
So-just letting ya know yr not forgotten-wether you 'reciprocate' or not:)i'm cool either way.
'k,i'm off to ride the motorbike since it's soo fucking gorgeous out.
hang tuff kitten
-jay(one of the 7)
Yeah, it sure was a great day for the bike! I'm glad you made it out. As for me, I'm holding steady, that's about all I can say. My best "therapy" movie is pretty much any version of "A Christmas Carol", I know that sounds totally queer, but there was a time maybe about four years ago, nowhere near Xmas, it was the springtime, when watching about 4 different adaptations of that movie was the only thing that kept me sane. And I don't do the Jesus thing, either. But I'll check out Dandelion, what the hell. After this I'll throw it on my Netflix queue. Thanx again for checkin' in. Hey when are *you* gonna write something new in your blog, huh? (:
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