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Sunday, 6 October 2013

Happy anniversary anti-depressants! Here's a gift voucher.

I was on my bike to work the other day, and my brain, apropos of nothing said.
I was then all like "Shutup! You're not even my real brain! You don't control me!" then I threw a bottle of fanta at a family and did a kickflip off my bike into the beating intensity of the sun.
But yeah, that's something I've realised, and I felt like writing about it, in the case it's 'cathartic' or something less profoundly sobering. Some people who don't know as long, have picked up on various things or ticks, so this might help a few folks out.

Do not ride your bike into the sun unless you are certifiably RADICAL.

For the new faces here (Hey! Hello! Bonjour! *Something in Klingon*) I should say I'm not using depressing in the way that some people use 'literally' or 'legend'. I'm literally (Nice callback!) depressed. Diagnosed and all that modern medical jazz!
I have been for, well 18 months, although to be honest it's pretty much been there for the past five years, and was only 'twitter verified' as official last year.
So, let's catch up shall we? are interested right? I bought slides...I bought slides.

And here's where I felt the cold futility of socialising. Ooh alllso, also...not as big as you'd think it is.

So, I'm still awful with regards to women. I'm a nervous, anxious, self-doubting worry, that I hope doesn't translate as sociopathic-makes-chairs-out-of-skin obsessive. I am not cool around the opposite sex, I feel I should make this clear. I'm not some...deranged, shotgun under the trench coat (Don't look good in them) manic obsessive...I'm just an anxious fellow.
I have no problem being alone, I'm more than happy to fortress of solitude it up with some sandwiches and some Pearl Jam.
I'd like somebody to want to kiss my face every once in a while, that's not a character flaw, that's a combination of very low self esteem and me, shockingly, being an warm human being.
As it stands, I've never felt like that. I'm often being made to feel like the opposite, (Hence the ole anti-depressants, sometimes I put them in food and pretend I'm a Dog), not very interesting or memorable and as sexually attractive as a documentary on tracheotomies. I'm often feeling like I'm not the sort of person somebody would find themselves wanting to be close to, like a serial killer or a barrel of acid and contempt.
 The thing is if I meet somebody I want to be close to, or makes me not want to be alone, and it inevitably doesn't happen, THAT is when I get affected, NOT me being by myself.
If I get rejected or turned down or stood up, or dumped in a text message (My  personal 'Ozymandias'), it does affect me a lot. It shoots a crossbow bolt of +2 reinforcement at one of the main driving forces of my depression and gives it something to feed off.  
Quick, roll a saving throw! 9, your sarcastic remark fails.

I've had a situation like that happen just recently and my depression treats it like the media treats video game related violence. It dissects, probes and devours every minute detail, no matter how relevant, and uses it against me, and it's depressingly (HA!) effective. I do get people saying 'be confident innit', but I've had a ridiculously high amount of bad experiences, that trying to focus on the good is like fighting a spartan offensive with a supersoaker and bad language, it's a very uneven and affecting ratio not in my favour.
So just...I dunno, bear with me. I have no problem with being told to shut up if at least you understand. No "Don't mope", "Get over it", "I'd be fine!". Don't say that. Ok. It's like reprimanding a guy with no legs because he can't charlston. "But I can Charlston! Why can't he? HOW DARE HE!"
I hate writing stuff like this, I always feel it's whingy nonsense, like when Alan Partridge has his Toblerone addiction and is 'clinically fed up, boo hoo'. But, self loathing's one of the symptoms, so I suppose it's justified. PARADOX.
I googled Paradox and a sex filled manga came up. I loathe the internet with embers of contempt.

Honestly, I think depressions made me funnier. There is the old adage about making jokes to impress the opposite sex, but I've never had anybody attracted to me because of my sense of humour, and it's more a self validating sense of security. If I can think of a joke I like, something witty, subversive, or just a quick thinking spark of stupidity, it's like collecting a ring in my Sonic The Hedgehog green Hill depression zone. Sure, it's only one ring, but at least one ring stops me dying by falling down the screen when I run into a forest creature converted into a robot spike anus.
Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong.

I get people who find me being open very uncomfortable or awkward for them. "Oh, I don't think you should say that Peeeeeeeter." "Gee whiz, that sounds a bit awkward."
I don't care, it's my mental well being and life here. I've no problem discussing it, and if you find it uncomfortable (like cringing when you see a homeless person) it's your problem. Besides, there's people out there who hate other people based on religion, skin colour and even music taste, I'm sure there's more mentally concerning fish to fry.
I hope that if somebody knows this, they'll think "Oh, he wasn't calling me twice a week because he's got a doll with my face on made of straw and insects. He's just not good with this sort of stuff and means well. WELL AIN'T THAT SWELL, SHUCKAMUP!"
I get worried if friends don't reply or initiate conversations for a few days, that's a hilarious side effect I get annoyed at for assuming that people loathe my existence as If I've 'Conan The Barbarian prologue' destroyed their village. I also apologise too much. That's a thing.

I've got a job now. That's good. I'm enjoying it and enjoy teaching folks and helping students learn, plus it gives me something to do during the day, so that's always funkadelic.
That said, I still hate mornings. I loathe getting out of bed. Not in a 'Oh but the bed's so warm and cosy and bllarrghhghgarl', but, to paraphrase Patton Oswalt in his short documentary 'To Be Loved and Understood' (A great piece about comedy and depression) waking up is like:
"Swimming up through calcified layers of regret and horrible decisions and self-loathing."
Obviously this is comedic hyperbole, he's a comedian is all. But no matter how I am the night before, I Groundhog Day every morning into a self loathing and miserable individual, like if it was written by Michael Haneke instead of Harold Ramis. I'm constantly aware I'm bummed out a lot, but it's like a deprecating parrot stapled to your shoulder, sure you get used to it, but you've rather he wasn't there to begin with. I can't do similies.
SSRIs are obviously a mixed bag, and have their naysayers, but so does anything these days. Medication, TV, ritualistic Blood God sacrifices. I know personally I'd feel a lot worse without them, and I'm glad I'm on them. They're not a deus ex machina pill, and they certainly don't make you feel 30s Disney Cartoon happy, but I'd still recommend them to anybody who feels they need them. Even if it's just giving you your appetite back or reducing the number of mornings you wake up shaking like a relapsing junkie. Still, I'd rather not be on them, and I'd rather not have been on them for a year and half. So hopefully there won't be a tedious re-iteration of these post in another 18 months. Because I won't be on them....not because I'm a lazy writer. I hope this post is of benefit to some people; I find it helps to write about this sort of stuff, I've nothing against being open, but if can also help somebody else then hey, awesome.
Anyhoo, how've you been?

I'm hoping this isn't the same old nonsense and contributing nothing much of worth (Like LOST seasons 3-5), but at least clearing some things up a bit (Like LOST fan answers by dedicated nerd obsessives) .

Here's a joke to end.
What's a termite's favourite band?


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