I should be working on my script. I know what I want to write, and I have written some of it, but I am not now writing. Why? I’ll tell you.
I am actively depressed. This is not the passively sitting still and watching the world go by kind of depressed–oh no. This is the ‘who the fuck cares and why the fuck do I try?’ kind of depressed. I have been feeling a general malaise over the past few days (most likely because of my birthday. I am about as birthday-neutral as I can be, but apparently, it still makes me slightly depressed), and it just hit me full force.
What the fuck? I went grocery shopping at my favorite co-op (Fresh & Natural in Shoreview), had lunch with Natasha at a great Thai Restaurant, Sen Yai Sen Lek, went to the library with her and got some books, then walked around a golf course with her. We had a good lunch and a good time. I got home, and then I started sliding into the depression. I had fun on Facebook for a bit and my various political blogs, and then I started writing my script.
For some reason, though, I just don’t want to write. I know what I want to write (it includes Alan Rickman, Jacqueline Kim, and handcuffs), but I can’t seem to force myself to do it. Part of the problem is that I’m a fast worker, so I can put things off until almost the deadline and then finish it in one fell swoop. This got me through college, by the way, and it really is a handy trick.
However, it also allows the vague dissatisfaction that I’ve been experiencing to explode into full-blown depression. Then, it’s as if a thick blanket of gloom wraps itself around me and duct tapes itself shut. Then, I just want to crawl into bed, pull the covers up to my nose, and never get aout again. Then, I can’t stand the slightest bit of light because it’s so heavy on my eyes and my heart. Then, the darkness that I try to keep contain starts spreading throughout my body.
Natasha and I talked about the voices in my head. There are many, telling me so many things, I get confused. You know how you’re supposed to go with your gut? Well, I don’t know which voice is my gut, which is The Dictator, which is my id, and which is, well, someone else. Natasha said I needed someone to come in and clean office–get rid of some of the jobs. I countered that I needed a personal assistant who can keep track of my time and who can ruthlessly guard my door.
Her solution is to eradicate the voices. Mine is to manage them. Part of that is because I don’t know what would happen to my creativity if I totally wiped out the voices. It seems that much of the stuff I write comes to me as a gift, so I have no idea if I would stop receiving said gift if I were to lose all the voices in my head. I’m not sure that’s a risk I am willing to take.
I was depressed from the time I was eight until…maybe a year ago. I mean constantly depressed. Well, mostly. Chronic depression with sporadic reprieves. People rarely knew, though, because I am quite adept at hiding it from the world at large. For almost thirty years, my life was gray. Now, I like gray as a color, but not when it’s the palette of my life. My life needs to be blacks and reds and silvers–with blues, greens, and oranges thrown into the mix. Ok, yellow and brown, too, and white can tag along.
There is always a niggling fear in the back of my head that I will return to gray. The unending continuity of…emptiness. The feeling that I am a straw person with nothing inside. A sham. A walking corpse. I used to believe that I had to earn the right to live (which tied in with my hatred of my birthday). I no longer think this is true, but I can’t quite shake the lingering ramifications.
What is the fucking point? That’s what it comes back to for me, time and time again. What is the fucking point of anything I do, or of life itself? In the end, I cannot think of a satisfying answer. We all die in the end. The world will keep spinning or not. The presence or absence of one person–does it really make a difference? In theory, each individual life is worthwhile. In reality, I’m hard-pressed to believe this is true.
I think this must be going around. Another of my friends found herself weeping all last night and is terribly depressed. Maybe your birthday, maybe spring, maybe something else. The cause doesn’t really matter does it? Just the pain?
Being contrary myself, I feel really good today for no discernable reason. I’ll try to send some of my job your way. I’m trying not to be scared of it, but rather to enjoy it. If I can share it, maybe it won’t feel feel so selfish.
I want to keep up doing the walk after lunch. You can be whatever color you like during them. I personally really like gray. A gray sky can mean either a storm coming or it might open to display a bright sun. Both are pretty great.
Anyway, none of this may do anything to make you feel better, but I’m giving what I can. Let me know if I can do more.
Xteen B, yeah I have no idea why it is. I have a hunch it’s spring or something.
I’m glad you feel really good today. Maybe it’s because you’re starting to think about yourself for a change! Yes, let’s keep walking after lunch. I have been slack in that area myself.
Yeah, I actually like the gray pic I posted here myself. It’s more…an inner gray. Thanks for reading this and responding–you help me more than you know.
Yes, one person in live or away from life DOES make a difference!
Feel better or smash glass (i love that breaking sound), just don’t disappear!
life*
damn finger condom anyway
Thanks, whabs. I wish I could believe that in my heart, but I don’t yet. Just out of curiosity, why do you have a condom on your finger?
I think only the most insanely optimistic of people don’t have days when they wonder “is this really what my life is all about?” I have the girls, a wonderful hubby, tons of things to be thankful for, and I still have days when I think that my life really really sucks. Remember the hours spent in public bathrooms w/Lottie? Some days I simply cannot believe that this is my life. But it passes and I think “Yeah! This is my life! Isn’t it great?!” The bad days are much much fewer than the good days, and hopefully you are that way too. There is no perfect life, that’s for certain.
I think you need some goals, get disciplined about your approach to achieving them — maybe, being childless, some of the goals need to be external, not about you. Or maybe your goals need to be tangible (publishing something somewhere, having something concrete, touchable).
It strikes pretty much everyone at some time or other, grab the phone or log into your email and touch base with a friend who cares (like me).
You matter to many people, have made a difference in many lives. Be good to yourself.
Besos.
SMR, you are right, of course. Everyone (except the truly oblivious) have down days. It’s just that for those of us who have lived it for years, a day or two always feels like a harbinger for years.
I agree about goals. I need to set them and meet them. The problem is more the former because I tend to do the latter once I do the former. Did that make sense?
Thank you for stopping by and giving me support. I really appreciate it.
P.S. It’s funny that you said that about emailing because I was just going to my email so I could email you when I saw that you posted here! Great minds think alike.
I’ve only said a little about this, but I’ve been suffering from a pretty serious bout of depression for about the last two-and-a-half years. That, after about two years of happiness. That’s part of why I’m in therapy, because I cannot motivate myself to do nearly anything without a prodigious effort/extreme pressure. The only thing that gives me real joy these days is teaching & practicing kung fu. I’m really glad to have that.
Maybe this is not much help, but at least I can offer some empathy. Right now I am just so sick of being in this gloomy tunnel, but I keep slogging ahead because I feel the effort will save me from getting overcome by inertia. You may not be doing all you want to do, but you’re still doing something. Keep going!
I hear you, Choolie. Sometimes it takes all my will just to get out of the damn bed, but it gets done. Tai chi helps me, too, so I am glad that you are teaching it. I know that doing something is better than doing nothing, but the remnants of all I *should* be doing hang over me like a gray cloud. Thanks for your support.
I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.
Franz Kafka
Just thought I’d share since I’m looking for quotes to use in the graphic novel. Sometimes this seems to fit.
Xteen B, I love that quote. I will embrace it.
To answer your question, days later…Finger condom = little rubber finger tip with air holes and traction nubs (yes, I wear ribbed finger condoms)frequently used by people who work with large amounts of paper. I use them a lot at work and forget it is there and go on to other things. Typing always reminds me as my fingers get fat and the typo trail begins.