Almost a comfort because it’s something familiar, Depression is a part of me that I’ve been “coping” with for years, but as part of the grief process I feel myself regressing sharply into the hopelessly narcissistic void of sad. Depression seriously makes me the most asshole version of myself, seemingly self-involved and full of sabotage to said self. Being around anyone is exhausting for more than 15 minutes, I can’t fully listen because my head looks attached but my mind is a mylar balloon drifting 15, 20, 50 feet away into the sky, a shiny dot that reflects the sun one more time before it burns your eyes and some animal chokes to death on it a few weeks later. ANWAY. I want to be present and enjoy things and people, but trying to remember if I logged out of Facebook before looking at porno sites is work enough (I get paranoid). It’s frustrating when people can’t rely on you anymore, and you are letting them down, but you lack any energy to try harder. Because you’re using all said energy to block out the negative thought cycle, the ones that put a fog on anything enjoyable and scare the fuck out of you.You really stop caring about yourself and your future. "I don’t want to kill myself, BUT if I got run over today that would be fine, IF I slipped and fell onto this knife in my kitchen that would be dope, IF a deranged individual decided to bash my brains in with a rock while I’m on one of my walks I could be in the paper AND also not exist anymore so that’d be a fun 15 minutes of fame". OK I feel like I need to follow this up with some uplifting things so yawl don’t put me on a ‘watch’ so I’ll reassure you that the wind on my face and even just like one weeks worth of attention from a cute, smart guy reminds me that there are so many beautiful, real things in this world that I want to discover and that are not dead. I know I’m not done with this shit yet, this experience yet, this life yet, I know it’s still just the beginning and at the present and I am ok/dealing with this, with only a dash of apathy for the process. But that’s what it’s like to feel Depressed, you can side wash the thoughts and “decide” to think another way but that doesn’t stop them from being a part of you, humbling you, misleading you.
And while it’s hard to interact with 99.9% of humans in your life when you’re Depressed, if you’re lucky you meet one (or more if u r really lucky) of the few out there who speak the same fucked up language as you. You’re connected in a broken, crooked way that you know isn’t right but you feel comfortable immediately because you never have to explain your thoughts or feelings, you can just exist in the world together and not expect anything. You can both be assholes to each other but never take it personally because you know it comes from a place you both share deep down inside your guts, like a shitty dull gem in a nihilistic version of a Troll doll. You can make the darkest jokes and rather than feel uncomfortable they will laugh with you, at them. But you wonder if this kind of connection is good for either of you, or will you just bring each other down more? Binge drink together more, get too real in the dumb feelings you share?
And trying to find a balance of being social so I can stay out of my head and be alone so I can recharge my attention is impossible and anxiety inducing. Because I like meeting new people and interacting, and I like being alone with myself, it’s a conflicting cycle of guilt-of-fomo/pleasure-from-others/guilt-from-actually-enjoying-my-own-company and I’m not even Catholic or Jewish so I don’t know where that shit comes from. And it’s hard to be disappointed in anyone else’s behavior, because you know your own is shitty garbage poo-poo-cynic-sad-girl-crap that ricochets from humor to despair and is equally annoying to put up with. And the (IMO) worst part of Grief Depression is that you CAN NOT DISTINGUISH between what is part of “the process" and what are your true feelings that you’ve always had inside. Grief throws everything off and you either can acknowledge that you’re feeling the way you do because you’re confronting your truth OR you’re feeling the way you do because you’re avoiding it and letting dumb, menial things become greater to you than they are. I talked before about how IDGAF anymore and it’s a beautiful thing but also, in contrast, I’m holding feelings too deeply for things/people that I know are fleeting, but, they glimmer a slight ray of hope on the faded VHS copy of Jerry McGuire that is my life.
I tried to avoid my birthday this May because last year Jono proposed to me on my bday, and also 29 is a bullshit age so who cares. And even though I pretended it wasn’t my “big day”, my wonderful coworkers made me a beautiful, delicious cake and they all sang “Happy Birthday" and I held back tears because I felt with so much certainty “I don’t deserve this, I’ve been such a selfish asshole lately, this is so fucked”. But I appreciated the fuck out of it. And then just a few days ago it would have been Jono’s 30th birthday, and that I couldn’t avoid. It happened to fall in the midst of me moving out of our apartment, which I chose to stay in through our lease being up. Sooooooooooo many people asked me how I could stay there after everything that went down (and honestly I don’t blame them at all, because from an outsider’s perspective, that would seem so weird and sad), but to me I was able to push that aside and found comfort in staying in the place we built together, so I could still hold on and pretend my life was on track. But it’s time for me to move on, and this has proven a more difficult process that even though I “prepared” myself with, in anticipation of, I was still caught off guard by how much it fucked me up. I played a show the day I got the keys to my new place and moved all my books in (priorities! I have a book-nook now so at least there’s that) and fell apart halfway through the set. I mean, I still played OK but I can usually turn my shit off and have fun. Not this time though, I half-heartedly finished the set and then quickly scooped up my gear and RAN out of the venue, hot garbage tears boiling in my eyes until I made it to the solace of my Scion (bars) and let it all out. What upset me is how it’s all real now, this life I have to start over, on my own. A fuck ton of change in a few days time will really mess with your head. And stuff like giving away the clothing of your lost love to Goodwill takes an emotional toll that even watching Homeward Bound can’t match. So, I’m sorry to all the employees of the Griggs Street Goodwill that had to awkwardly help me load his clothes into the bins, while tears streamed down my face and they attempted to give a hysterical women her a coupon for the donation. It felt like I was just throwing away this person I love/loved (I literally never know what pretense to refer to him/us/our/we/were as), even though I waited until his clothes didn’t smell like him anymore. I can’t tell you how many times I sat in that closet just inhaling his lingering fragrance like that would bring back a lost memory I needed to desperately remember at that moment in time. But this is all part of the shitty process I have to deal with, and as much as I love and appreciate everyone’s pleas to help me, I have to do this alone. I have to be a big girl and Deal or no Deal with these things.