After some text messages, emails, phone calls and people coming up to talk to me, I feel like I need to clarify a few things. Yes, I am depressed. I get depressed all the time. I suffer from depression and no matter how well things are going or what is happening in my life, I still will just get depressed.
Despite the depression, things are actually going well. The last year or so has been a huge growing experience. I can say that now I am closer to whom I really am than any other time in my life. I have spent a long time unsure of who I am and what it means to be me. I have accepted huge chunks of truth about myself and have become okay with what I have found.
Yes, I still find happiness elusive. When I was 14 years old I did heroin and with that came crashing down the ability to find any kind of joy and beauty in life’s little mundane things. I know this because I follow a lot of you on Facebook and just the expression on a cat’s face brings some of you to your knees to thank God for all of his majestic creation while I feel absolutely nothing. It takes a lot for me to enter the world of joy.
It doesn’t mean I don’t see beauty and appreciate life. I love a lot of things, but my emotional reactions are just smaller. I love a good rain. I love a train whistle and the sound it makes when it slows down in the city. I love a foggy morning at the coast and mist filled old growth forest with lots of moss. I love a woman laughing and love a woman rubbing my stomach. I love a good book and bad movie more. I love the morning I wake up and I’m not heart broken anymore. I love four or five friends and I laughing so hard it hurts no matter what our sleep condition is. I love the side of a woman where the torso meets the hip. I love music and I especially love a song to take me entirely away from reality. I love when I’m unaware of my past. I love being uncertain of my future. I love female attention, sexual or not. I love strip clubs and the way my heart races when the dancer whispers in my ear and I can smell her. There are things I haven’t fallen in love with yet because I haven’t experienced them yet, and I love that.
So much of my emotional state is based on how socially included I am, and the last year or so my feeling of alienation has haunted me. I have spent more time alone lately than ever before and this is mostly good, but that youth in me still feels like I’m missing something and I wasn’t invited. I go to a social function and conversation becomes pure horror to me, but alone I just wished there was someone to talk to. I think the alone/social problem will plague me forever.
I have become very comfortable being alone, and I only spend an hour or so online wishing someone would reach out to me. It isn’t that I need someone to reach out, it is just I want someone to reach out. Most of the time I read books, blogs and magazines or I watch TV or a movie or I smoke and stare at the sky thinking about things that need thinking about.
I am depressed, but I’m not miserable. I’ve learned to live with it. I still see a therapist and I still try my best to take care of myself, but I still have to just get through it. Nothing is causing it and nothing will make it magically disappear. I appreciate all the people that reached out to me. I’m not telling any of you to leave me alone; I just felt I needed to clarify some things. A lot of my friends don’t suffer from depression the way I suffer from it and not understanding can make my behavior and blog posts seem dire and emo. No worries, dedicated readers, I am fine. In a month or two I will be annoyingly obnoxious again and you’ll wish for the depressed Dfish again.
It used to bother me that when I wasn’t being funny and insane, people would make sure I’m all right. I don’t think people realize how much time I spend way up in my head. When I’m by myself I don’t practice my funny faces in the mirror or take notes on what I will say if someone says one thing or another – I’m in my head thinking.
Now I’m not only depressed, but now I’m sick. This is a dangerous combination. The sickness will break down my ability to make good choices to keep the depression from making my decisions for me. Also, when I’m sick, I desperately want someone (girl) to take care of me.
I’m happy the way things are going. I’m writing again, reading more and doing better being alone. I still need to work on a few things, but without anything to work on, I’d be fucked. I have a lot to offer people and I have become more and more open-minded as I get older. I actually feel grateful sometimes. I want to want to quit smoking and I wish I could keep my room cleaner. I wish I didn’t feel like unzipping my skin and melting into the floor every time I have a conversation with someone. I wish I were less paranoid about what people think of me.
People keep making fun of my sweaters, but goddamn! I look good.