Most of the time on when I write it is about whatever I want. This is MY blog and I can write absolutely anything and if you don't like it you don't have to read it...you know...cause I'm an adult and, if you haven't forgotten already, this is MY blog and I can write whatever I want.
After I write whatever I want I go back and edit out anything likely to get me into trouble with my Dad...or my friends...or my job...or get me arrested and/or involuntarily admitted to a psychiatric ward. That is the basis of why I don't post every day...and why my posts are often short.
This post, however, isn't written to amuse or make a point. I don't have a psuedo-humorous story or a rant. I honestly don't know if I am writing this post as a form of therapy or a frighteningly misplaced cry for help. What I can say it is one of the most difficult posts I've ever written.
Depression is one of those strange diseases (yes, it is most certainly a disease) not easily understood unless you have experienced it for yourself. The sudden feeling you just can't shake that something has gone seriously awry in the world. You are convinced to the depths of your soul that somehow it will result in hellfire and/or demon frogs raining down upon you at any second. The debilitating, yet inexplicable, stealth Ninja anxiety that strikes for no reason what-so-ever at the most inconvenient moment possible. The sensation of being so emotionally and physically raw that the mere hint of someone touching you results in actual flinching.
Having been diagnosed with chronic depression in high school I have been medicated for the majority of my life. I am certain this has resulted in stunted mental compacity and short-term memory loss, but it keeps me normal ...ok, ok ... haters ... mostly normal.
The last 4 months, however, have been some of the most difficult months I can remember. I resurrected this blog in the hopes it would help me begin to ease back to what passes as normalcy in my life. It gives me an outlet - a place to put down all of the frighteningly angry and, most frequently, plain old snarky things milling around in my head. A way of keeping those thoughts from compressing into little nuggets of pure evil...like some sort of twisted anti-diamonds. While that would be impressive, I'm not sure they would have the same retail value as an actual diamond.
I truly believe, in a lot of ways, depression has allowed me to learn how to recognize the absurdity of the world we live in. It has most certainly helped me to develop my sense of humor. It removes the filter and the blinders we wear - the blinders that allow us to more easily navigate "polite" society. Don't get me wrong, I've never really had a filter and most of the time I am peeking around the edges of the blinders, but like most people I do my best not to make a total ass of myself.
When you find yourself at a point so low that you aren't even sad anymore...where you have lost any ability to feel or express emotions and are instead completely and utterly empty...the only thing you can do is laugh at the absurdity you suddenly so clearly see. The world is absurd. Life is absurd. The fact you are still wearing the pajamas you put on 5 days ago and you can't remember the last time you brushed your teeth because you are in the middle of debilitating depression and anxiety because someday, somewhere, somehow I am going to die and you are going to die and the dog is going to die and people are homeless and the rich are paying taxes and the spotted-whitetailed-horned-jumping platypus is going extinct and OMG we are all going to DIE!!!
One of my favorite bloggers recently posted a much funnier post(with pictures, y'all!) about her struggle with depression. What struck me, besides realizing I must not be the only person concerned about that platypus, is her description of hitting a point where you are so far past caring about anything that nothing can touch you. Nothing matters anymore. You've become this empty human-like thing in filthy clothes and ratty hair. She wrote about how that precise moment is the turning point. That is the moment you begin to crawl back out of whatever pit of despair you've found yourself in.
I haven't hit that point quite yet, but I think this post is pretty darn close. I can tell because I just realized I don't care what you think about what I've just told you and I don't care what you think about my particular brand of crazy.
My brand of crazy is just as absurd as yours thankyouverymuch.
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