Taking a second look.

Earlier this week, if I had written, I would have undoubtedly complained as usual about how much my life sucks and how I can't seem to get over my problems and the depression is taking over again and blah-blah, ad nauseum. And no doubt about it, up until yesterday afternoon, I was feeling just that very way. But... a few things have happened that have realigned my way of thinking, at least for right now.

First of all, someone sent me a link to a terrific article written about depression. It's written for a mainly British audience, but it applies to all nationalities, all races and all creeds - unfortunately, depression does not discriminate. The article made me cry as nothing else has done for a long, long time.

Why? Because the author was talking about me. Because the author's experiences were mine. Because, finally, someone GOT it. They understood exactly what was wrong, what hurts, what has failed inside of my cracked brain. Everything that I couldn't and can't articulate to people.

Can you imagine how it feels when you've been speaking a foreign language to the world at large for years, and then suddenly, someone speaks back to you in that same language? The relief you feel at finally being understood? That's what this was. That's exactly how it felt.

Unfortunately, I know that this one thing won't help in my daily interactions with the ignorant. I posted this same link on Facebook for my "friends" to read, and I think maybe only one or two people actually bothered. (Guess that the antics of someone's baby eating were more important than something that's crippling 40% of the population, but I digress.) Which has led me to really examine whether or not these people are "friends" in the first place.

I've dumped about 10% of my Facebook list this week, and it's mainly because I'm being honest with myself - these people either annoy the piss out of me with their stupid "what color is your aura" and "how horny are you" applications that do nothing but give away your personal information to the world at large, or I just plain don't interact with them any longer, they don't ask after me, so why bother keeping up appearances.... that kind of thing. Sometimes it's both at the same time. I have no need for a popularity contest - what do I care? I'd be happy with 10, or even 5 friends that I can genuinely call FRIENDS. People who talk to me, interact with me, care about what I think and feel and do and say. That's what it all boils down to, not how many people I can boast on a list.

Quite frankly, there might be more deletions in the works soon. I just have no need for people that want to be in the fringes of my life.

I guess I'm decluttering in a lot more ways than just one. I'm simply fed up with all of the flotsam that has been part of my life for so long. In that afore-mentioned article, it says to do what I can, when I can, not to sweat the small stuff, and if things are half-finished - fuck it. (Not in so many words, but you get the idea.) I've been trying to take that advice to heart. It's just not that important to be "first" in a line, or to be perfect with my finances (though it sure could use some help, heh), or if I make a mistake - that's why they call it a mistake. I'm ENTITLED to a fuck-up now and again, right? Isn't that part of being human?

I guess that I'm just tired, and weary of fighting off the effects of the illness. Too many people just seem to think that depression is "no big deal", but it can be so debilitating. I've been crying pretty much every day this week, and either over really stupid, petty shit... or nothing at all. Or sometimes stuff that's been coming up to the surface after many months or years. I've had a lot of that this week. It's things that I've needed to know and/or understand for some time now, and that's the good part - but the bad part is that I didn't know it before now, as I could have saved myself a lot of hurt in some ways. I can't really explain it any further than that without being too revealing, so I'll just leave it at that.

I'm telling you, that article is straight on. I started crying helplessly on the commuter train home yesterday simply because it was so crowded with people and I nearly missed it - I made it by a mere thirty seconds. It was like... everything was just coming apart at the seams. Isn't that fucking STUPID? The rational part of my brain says that I should be grateful that I was able to run fast enough to get the train in the first place. And that I actually found myself a seat despite all of the people crammed on there. But it's just one of those small, petty things that make it feel like just living is such a struggle. I think one of the problems that I have is that I tend to look at the "big picture", the overall view. Instead of focusing on the small good things that make life what it is, I end up looking at the bad things and equate them to the entire situation being, basically, a piece of shit.

For example: Good thing = buying the house. Bad things = not receiving tax credit yet, no furniture, no ability to decorate because of no tax credit.

See, in my mind, the good thing (buying the house) is eclipsed by the bad things (no furniture, specifically no bed), because in my cracked brain, I'm not thinking that having a place to lay my head doesn't equal or eclipse what I lay my head on. Does that make any sense? Sure, not having a bed is kind of a bad thing, but at the same time - I do have my sofa, it's comfortable enough for the present, and I'm not homeless. It's got to count for something - but like I said, my brain's not computing that. That's why I just need to slow the hell down and think - if I can. This illness makes it difficult to even do that, sometimes.

Sigh. Fridays at this place USED to be quiet, but we've unfortunately had an upswing in the amount of crackheads - errr, 'clients' - on that day. It's not horrible like Tuesdays are, but it's bad enough. As it stands, the track of thought that I was on has been utterly lost, thanks to all of the activity, meh. For a while, I thought I was actually on the verge of sounding intelligent.

(That's another thing I need to do - quit putting myself down. And I'm trying, but it's still very hard, my self-esteem is still more or less in the toilet. A dirty one, heh.

I did have a lot more to say, like usual, but it all seems so trite and unimportant now. Maybe I'll come back to it later when I'm out of here and can think about other things besides crackheads.

Until then.