I once asked the group if they were pro guns and the majority belted out in approval. I asked a man in the front row why he was pro guns and he gave me the basic ‘personal protection liberty 2nd amendment’ jazz.
I told the group, “I’m pro guns because I enjoy living in a world with only four Nirvana albums.” My depression was the only one who laughed.
So a guy is walking with a young boy into the woods.
Boy “hey mister its getting dark out and I’m scared”
Man “how do you think I feel, I have to walk back alone”
It’s back with a vengeance. I don’t know if my black dog runs in cycles. Fall always seems the worst.
At certain times I don’t hide it. When I’m around people I know and trust I can talk about it. I can scream and yell or curl up in a ball. I’m also extremely empathetic and realize when I should keep to myself and try and ride it out. Well, I’m surfing the big waves and am heading straight into that pipeline. When It knocks me off my board I’m going to grab a hold of it and hang on till the tide brings me in.
It has eased off for so long that I thought I may of had it licked, but the elephant sitting on my chest is back, I’m not speaking, I cry way too often to release my breath that I didn’t know I was holding. The feeling of being scared 24/7 for absolutely no reason, with no where to go and no one to I want to see me like this. I’ve isolated and have become someone to avoid. I think that’s what always hurt the worst. Knowing that it’s above most people’s pay grade. I have ostracized my friends.
I’m constantly doing something artistic. It’s a way to express what I’m feeling, keeping my mind off of what I’m feeling, keeping busy so I don’t dwell.
I write for the same reasons. Not to gather sympathy but it’s cathartic to put pen to paper, or in this case pound out a blog post to make me feel like I’m still in a good enough state of mind to be able to think straight and know there is still hope.
A little secret to make you think:
Why is the crazy stuff we never say
poetry in ink?
Smokin’ day-glow red;
Purple mountains majesty –
Show me you? I’ll show you me.
People will talk to me about their own problems with chronic depression. When they read my words they don’t feel so alone. I may not know the circumstances but I can relate to the feeling.
I’m going to be talking to a friend who I have never met tonight. She’s fighting this as hard if not harder than me. We talked a few weeks ago and she spilled to a stranger who she met through swapping smart ass remarks on Facebook about those douche bag ‘patriots’ who stormed a bird sanctuary gift shop in Oregon a few years ago.
I don’t know what I’ll tell her but I’ll keep talking until we get a plan for her to deal with own personal demons.
I know what people are telling her. “You are beautiful. You have a great family, loving wonderful husband. You are an educated professional. What do you have to be down about?” I can feel her pain simply through Facebook posts. She lets a bit of it seep out now and then before going back to being a smart ass, and sweet, and as far as I know a really great person.
I landed a job at a Monterey hotel working nights. It’s perfect. I come into work. Relieve my co-worker. Do some paper work, answer a phone call, and set up your ‘Free Continental Breakfast!’ In other words I set the cereal out.
By the time I go in nobody is up and I rarely see anyone during the night. I leave before they start checking out. It’s a great job, pays well, and I want to keep it. Here is my problem. I think I need to go to the hospital. If I go I will lose the job, if I don’t go I’ll lose my mind. I’m at that point. I can’t see the future. That scares me. I’m not suicidal, but i’m not living either. The joke around here is I’m Winnie the Pooh’s friend Eeyore. Agreed. A pretty close analogy.
I’m homesick for my friends and for my family but I don’t want to leave California. I’ll never make it back. I’ll be some pitiful mother fucker living in Greenup where I will isolate myself there also. I’m not really even sure I’m welcome home. I know things are easier when I’m away. I don’t want to rock that boat or makes things bad on those I love.
I’d have to find a new job, a place to live, get a new doctor, new medications. At the end of that road this will come back again.