Tuesday, March 11, 2008


One of the things my counselor and I have discussed time and time again is identifying the cyclical nature of my depressive episodes. I've described them in the past as being a "once every four months or so fate kicks you in the balls and you lose a few days" thing. I know now that it isn't that simple, and in theory I should know how to fight it, but depression is a tricky foe. You may realize it's coming, and in the end just say "fuck it."

That is, in essence what leads me to here, and my current bit of reflection that it's not fair that depression can keep you awake. The whole thing is about being subdued, how can it be keeping me awake?

It's really an insidious condition. Little things slip. The things I'm doing to safeguard against it are, unfortunately, still things which are by and large outside of my ingrained habits, so a loss of motivation cuts those off pretty fast, and from there its the same old song and dance. You slip on X, you feel bad, you have less motivation to spend. You miss something, you sleep through something, you feel worse. You have a bad day and the filter you've got going by that point makes it into a terrible day, and by that point your sliding waaay to fast.

The key, and I say this mostly for future reference, is generating apparent self worth. Directing raw willpower early in the cycle should help me evade most of it, but que sera a little bit late for that. Dr. Johnson has taught me a great many useful things, I just wish I was better at learning them.

I'm also amazed, and to be honest pissed off that I can still have an internal writer voice which is almost playfully outraged despite the fact that I have a headache and really don't feel like doing anything to or for anyone at all ever. I hate to say this, because the implications are horrific, but writing flows surprisingly well when I'm depressed. Or heartbroken for that matter. I'd say that poetry flows from the open wounds of my broken heart, but that phrase is so amazingly emo that I would have to kill myself for saying it. The irony here of course being that killing myself would be even more emo, and only magnify the problem.

I stop here to remind my father, who is worried about these things, that I'm not contemplating suicide. I know it won't quell your fears but I don't think of suicide as a solution. If people with problems kill themselves they become dead people with problems.

Fuck it, I'm out of things to say.


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