welcome to the danger zone

Soul Sucking Sorrow No Puppy Can Cure (or Even Cute Babies)

Caution: It has come to my attention that sucking blackness has arrived for one of its destructive visits. If you care about me, you will not ask me how I am, or suggest happy things or try to elevate my mood. Trust me when I say I am on it, but as anyone with depression can tell you, depression isn’t something you switch on or off, or can wish away. I will get through this as I have through every other episode, but not without my usual bitterly wry assessment of what this torment feels like.

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If depression was a circle of hell, Dante would have described it as being damned to an unlit coal mine inside of a supermassive black hole in which there was a bubbling pit of tar and the damned would be drowning in it, while crying tears of blood. No, really. It’s exactly that. When it’s under control, it’s a black cloud following me around, rumbling and grumbling, but not surrounding me. Today, I feel like my soul has been ripped from my body and I start crying at fucking butterflies. I thought I was just being cranky on Saturday, but I knew then. I tried to sleep it away. Nope, not gonna happen. So I got out in the sun and took some vitamin d and b and drove fast and screamed along to music at the top of my lungs until I was sure my throat was bleeding. (I am sure there were also some innocent ears bleeding too, because that stereo in the car is an harman kardon, and it’s LOUD, and I was singing/screeching louder.) Unfortunately there are pauses between songs during which sorrow spilled out of my eyes like rain in gutters after a storm.

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Now I’m in it. It’s like a huge fucking weight crushing me. Squashing me like a bug. I can’t talk about it because it only turns the sobbing on. Talking doesn’t help it. There’s nothing I or anyone else can do. I have to ride it out. That’s what sucks about this disease. It’s a waiting game or, if I want to be generous, a challenge. Writing does help, because it lets me give it shape and form, a giant fucking monster made of molten coal that squirms and oozes all around me with its fucking stupid gaping mouth making sucking sounds. It just sits there, mocking me. And all I can do is write, jam b vitamins down my throat, take my happy pills and be grateful that I still have the strength to get out of bed and go to work. The only plus of this despicable plague is that I also become brutally sarcastic. I should have known I was teetering on the edge when I decided to write the “I Hate Everyone and Everything” song. Which was really just a title, and no lyrics.

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I woke up crying early Saturday morning. I had had the most vivid dream, which I may or may not blog about another day. I woke up crying. It should have been a clue. But no, I wanted so badly to believe that I had this shit locked down, I wasn’t accepting it. I wasn’t even buying it until I was driving to an appointment today, and I started weeping like a banshee. Thank dog for sunglasses. But I pulled out the happy face, dried my eyes, and got through the afternoon. And mourned the fact that I need to stay put for another three years because I need fucking healthcare. Yes, we have guaranteed healthcare now, but just like before the affordable care act, there is healthcare and then there’s good healthcare. I have good, even excellent, healthcare, and I am stuck in a job and a state that add nothing to my rainbow of happiness because I have a body and mind that have defects that require superb medical attention. Stupid body. Stupid brain. And just so you can get a really good understanding of how my depression works, as I was driving I saw a perfectly lovely bird flying in the gorgeous blue sky on a delightful June day. For about 30 seconds I though “I wish I was a bird” and then bam! My brain switched over to this: no, I don’t want to be a bird, because I would probably be starving most of the time, or attacked by a hawk or a vulture or shot to death by some sociopathic child with a bb gun. Or pecked to death by other birds. Oh look at those pretty rhododendrons, how gorgeou….wait they are already dying, everything is dying, death everywhere, summer is almost over, it’s going to be winter again, I hate winter, why does everything die, why are we even here, life is hard and it sucks and I am going straight to bed when I get home, I don’t even want to talk to anyone or see anyone, ever. Yes, laugh, it is funny, and also horribly sad.

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On the plus side, I still get up and go to work. I put that smiling mask on and function, because I have to. And I cling to the fact, that it will pass. Hopefully soon, because I have enough shit in my life that I don’t really need the added bonus of a sucking pit of despair right in the center of my chest (although I wouldn’t complain if it actually sucked out fat instead of joy).

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And that is that. I am going to go brood, mindlessly wishing that the sky would turn black and we’d have an awesome thunderstorm, because I appreciate when the weather mirrors my mood. Maybe I’ll get out some black paint and do a depression self-portrait that someone will buy for $10 and later sell for millions after my death.

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That is all.

BpJk2vMIQAE6CTM.jpg largeThis is not a tar monster.

I was not able to upload that picture.

So instead I uploaded this small monkey

who is contemplating tearing the heart out of this white pigeon

others often call doves.

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5 responses

  1. ‘no comment’ will await next posting.

    2 June 14 at 7:11 pm

  2. per your instructions “no comment”. will await next post.

    2 June 14 at 7:12 pm

  3. Heidi E

    Love the monkey coddling the white dove!! We need monkeys to go with our doves!!

    2 June 14 at 9:56 pm

    • I will ask Andy if he can jam them into the bin. I am not sure we have wild monkeys here. Maybe some street children would work, I know where we can get a list of those…

      2 June 14 at 10:20 pm

  4. Anonymous

    Just to let you know I’m thinking of you. And sending mental hugs even though you don’t want them. xox

    3 June 14 at 6:58 pm

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