Tag: depression

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https://youtu.be/DkulwLg_u8w


It’s weird to wake up not knowing who you are. You do all this stuff, you enjoy these things, yet you still wake up wondering what your “thing” is.


And in a strange show of wanting to feel included, you leave hints that you’d like to be invited to the next thing. Because you’re still questing as to what, exactly, your “thing” consists of. Maybe that’ll be it.


You’re still reeling from those years stuck in a rut– “becalmed” if you want to be romantic about it– because you have a quiet fear that the things you enjoyed then were only crutches to keep you alive to the next day. Or worse, things you needed to outgrow because you’re a Real Adult now. With like, a house with utility bills and everything.


You know that you’re lonely. That you need to be vulnerable again, to reach out. You also know that your hobbies are valid and just need dusting off. And you know damn well you need to get out of the house and not just for errands.


You know what you’re lacking. You need more dates. More people time. More people time that doesn’t end with sex. More music. More conversations. More stories to tell. More dreams to witness. More parks to visit. More prompts.


And yet. It’s 2am and you can’t sleep; you don’t want to. Because it’s just job and eat and sleep and repeat and clinging a little too hard because you feel unanchored without a “thing” and you’re jealous that they got a “thing” they stumbled upon and you were too chickenshit to forge bonds of/on your own.


Or you’re scared your “things” are so niche that you’ll enjoy them alone, not in content solitude but in loneliness-by-circumstance because there’s no one else interested to share them with. So you hope for an invite, and go along, and even if you end up not liking it you learned one more thing about yourself.


You fear you’ll always be the tag-along. In spite of your knee-jerk bitterness and resolve to just traverse the event alone, if you have to, because of course the meetup party couldn’t wait for you… you just want to feel included.


So. I don’t know what my “thing” is. If I have one. Or maybe I have many.


And how much of this is me, and how much of it is just things I picked up just because I happened to be there? Is there even a difference? Does it really matter?


I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

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I haven’t been talking much. Or doing much of anything, really, beyond existing and feeling pretty bad ab–


Sorry. “Pretty bad” is a terrible understatement.


I’m depressed. Capital D Depressed.


Alanis Morissette, “Tapes”



All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren’t my own
Wreaking havoc


Alanis pretty much nailed it, here.


For me, this is how my depression starts. I get thoughts stuck in my head and they work their grooves in- some grooves are already there thanks to my anxiety. They echo and become very, very loud.


I’m on Week 3? 4? of them groovin’ and yellin’. And I can’t stop them.


Tis the season.


Flying Lotus, “Debbie Is Depressed”



Sittin’ in the dark and the day’s so bright
You wanna sleep all day and sleep all night
’Cause all those days just feel the same


If I had my way, I wouldn’t have moved out of bed all week. But, you know, job. And errands. And things.


Battling the voices in my head on a constant basis is tiring. Hours blur together. If it weren’t for smartphones I wouldn’t know it was [INSERT CURRENT DAY HERE].


I know there’s hope and there’s darkness before the dawn, and all of those things. But I’d still be wondering what time it is when it’s over.


Phoenix, “If I Ever Feel Better”



If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know


And a major obstacle a lot of depressed people deal with is self-isolation. They withdraw and don’t talk to anyone; calls, texts, and Discord messages go unanswered. Plans are canceled.


“I’m not feeling so great, lately,” I manage to say. If I say anything at all. It’s the truth: mental illness is still an illness. “I’ll get back to you later.” Maybe make plans for future!me and hope for the best.


Elements of Soul, feat. Mia Taylor, “Head Above Water”



Is there anybody out there
That feels the way I do?


I know I’m not the only one going through this, and I can’t help but yell into the void and hope it yells back. And it does, if the void has Internet access.


And on said Internet, I deliberately seek out music to simultaneously feel validated… but still not great. But that’s the beauty of music: it can be so accurate to your situation that you find yourself bawling your eyes out on your commute to work.


You feel validated but you still feel pretty shitty. But at least you know you’re not alone. If you’re struggling, know you’re not alone. If you are just laying in bed staring at the ceiling, know that someone else is doing the same thing.


I did that on my day off. I’ll probably do that tomorrow, too. But after, I have a party (to try) to go to.


Then I hope I get bumped up on the waiting list for a therapist soon.


And maybe next week will be better, and days start feeling like days again.

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This spacesuit-layer-thin
Is all that separates me from
My idle thoughts in the dark–
But I dream, propelled,
A shooting star
Away from everything.
Landside, I melt into my thoughts
Unrecognizable
As unknown quasars,
Unstable as three-star systems.
Gravity should
Discover and pull me free.

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So I am 34 years old, now. And ever since No Doubt’s Return of Saturn album was released, I played “Six Feet Under” at least once on my birthday.



I thought I was going to be unbearably sad today. That I was going to pass today with cynicism and dullness in order to get through it. I was sad the two days before, you know: anxious about the few plans I did make, on top of the usual existential worries and thoughts about death.


But I was okay. I am okay.


I woke to two enthusiastic birthday wishes when I stumbled into the bathroom around 5am (our sleep and work schedules are wack, is all).


I made jokes when I was at work; having a half day may have had something to do with it. My coworkers wished me well the whole time. I got a candy bar and a soda as gifts!


I had dinner and my anxiety was finally quieted when one of my favorite restaurants wasn’t swamped after all! We (polycule we) had plenty of time to eat and exist before going our separate ways, because middle of the week still has mundane life things going on.


I’m happily morbid and my girlfriend and I talked about death. I still would like to be cremated and thrown in a Republican’s face.


I finally thought of a name URL for this blog. I figured it was time to post something. Maybe I can keep this up.


It was a decent day today.


I hope I have at least another 42 years. 


Today is my birthday and I get one every year.
And someday, hard to believe 
But I'll be buried six deep underground.