28 days. That’s how long it’s been since my last post. No less than three people have mentioned that fact to me even though I’m pretty sure that less than three people read this blog. It’s been even more sets of 28 days since I wrote a post that consisted of anything more than a quick thirty-three words or music to make you move.
I’m mired. I can feel myself, down a hall with long walls, scrabbling for purchase. Those words are just out of reach, they bubble and boil in my head, percolating at a rapid pace. Conversations are formed and lay dying somewhere among what passes for functional synapses. Eloquent, thought-provoking posts are constructed internally from spires of sand and unicorn tears that topple as my eyes close at the end of each day. I have nothing to say. I have everything to say. I have nothing that I know how to say.
Depression is congenital, constitutional, ever-present. An unpleasant present, peasant. Major depression is an ocean, deep and angry, constantly moving and bitter cold. Dysthymia is a lake that you can’t escape, its scummy surface lapping at your numb ankles persistently. A lake which offers counting the myriad of ways your mind can call you a loser as the only form of entertainment.
Which is worse? They both are. They are both the worst, the most unbelievably self-indulgent, horrifyingly banal diagnoses ever experienced. As I assume every diagnosis is to the person enslaved by it.
So to all of you out there enslaved by some big nasty or living with it, fighting it, succumbing to it, whatevering it – SOLIDARITY. Hang in there, like that damn kitty from the branch, for those shiny, fleeting moments of drive-by happiness. That moment when a show gets every single thing right (The Office finale), when the sun comes out and flips the gray and rainy forecast the bird, for warm croissants and motherfucking Voodoo doughnuts, for silly internet memes that sweep through like the Santa Ana winds and generic viagra uk unite us all in mutual hilarious frenzy.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Be aware, y’all. The life you save may be your own.
Get help if you need it. The world deserves to have you in it.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)