But there’s no point detailing the future highs without at least pointing out some of the previous lows.
And since plummeting into whatever the hell this situation actually is, I’ve spent hours upon hours internalizing, reflecting and trying to personalize a situation where I was less than a person.
In case you didn’t read the “What the Hell is Vitamin Vee” section,
I’ll sum it up for you in a real quick-super-to-the-point fashion.
I was doing good in life. Not great. But above average. House, wife, family, friends, car, hang glider, dune buggy, ant farm, life-size Bigfoot statue, collection of rare Spanish accents and a giant pillow in the shape of a ravioli.
I was happy ( in a sense ) but I guess not content.
And I did what a lot of people do when they aren’t content.
I fucked up. Big. Like, super huge.
What I had, I lost and everything I once knew as my ‘world”
came crashing down around me.
That’s when life decided I needed a good solid ass kicking.
You know, really dig deep and offer up a few good shots while I was on my knees.
That’s when the O.G., Sadness came a’ knockin’.
But he wasn’t alone. Oh no. Sadness is like Kanye…he travels with a posse.
Sadness backed by his homies, Clinical Depression and Hopeless Desperation
moved in with a whole lot of luggage.
They were in for the long haul.
And that’s when things got interesting.
So here’s where I talk about the feels and try to explain in
a tremendously funny way, what it’s like.
Both to you the audience as well as to myself.
See, this blog really isn’t for you.
Sorry, but it’s not. It’s for me.
Writing has always been how I process things.
It helps to make an incomprehensible situation, palatable.
Or at then very least, understandable.
I guess everyone has their coping mechanisms…writing and cursing have always been mine. And if I get to drop a lot of “motherfuckers” and “cockbags” into my tales of woe, well, all the better.
To be clear, I’m not claiming to be a “writer”. Only that I write as a form of therapy.
And that’s what this is.
Got it? Good. Lets move on.
THOSE BIG OLE DOUBLE D’S
Depression and Desperation.
From here on out I’m going to avoid using the word
“sad” or refer to any of this as “sadness”. Mainly because, it’s not.
Sadness is not only an umbrella term, it doesn’t come close to matching depression in sheer power.
Sadness is, “my favorite sports ball team didn’t win the big rodeo”
( I know nothing about sports ).
Depression is googling the most effective ways to kill yourself.
You know, so you get it right the first time.
Depression is not sadness and desperation is not depression.
All three of these things are very very different.
Let me explain and before I do, I realize not everyone experiences sadness, depression, anxiety and desperation the same way. But by and large, this seems to be the reality for most people I spoke with. Myself included.
Depression is a heavy invisible blanket.
You can’t touch it, you can’t see it, but goddamn, can you feel it. It’s a near impossible heaviness that constantly weighs you down. Immobilizes you.
You can’t move it or lift it off of you. That requires strength and motivation and those are the first two things depression takes from you.
I’ve heard depression described as an unscalable wall. And that might be true for some. But not me. There was no wall. A wall would have indicted some kind of clarity or vision. “Hey, here’s a wall. Damn that’s a big wall! I should try to climb this big damn wall”.
For me, depression is a hill. One I’m constantly slogging up while towing an anchor made of fear, guilt and remorse. The unholy trifecta of negative patterns.
Depression is slow and methodical. It’s like the show Twin Peaks. It takes its time and never really develops into anything more substantial. Eventually it becomes comfortable and you just tune in out of habit. You might even tell your friends about it because you think it makes you seem edgy and hip.
But the reality is, it goes nowhere. It’s a do nothing disorder and that’s part of the problem. Doing nothing is easy. Doing something…well, that’s hard and the last thing you want when you haven’t changed your clothes in 5 days, is something hard.
Do nothing and easy just seems like the best idea.
Actually it seems like the only idea.
Being depressed doesn’t make you lazy. It’s makes you apathetic. And what could possibly be worse than not being able to feel anything?
That’s what desperation is.
Feeling absolutely fucking everything.
Depression keeps you motionless. Desperation forces you to move.
And never in a good way. There’s no logical thought or anything pragmatic associated with desperation. By its very definition, you become reckless and dangerous.
The more you fight it, the stronger the urge to act becomes. And the more you feed the beast and not get your desired results ( quick tip – you will NEVER get your desired results ) the harder you try to bend the situation to your will.
The only thing you see with desperation is you. It’s not selfish. It’s a sickness. Regardless of what brought you here, once locked in, you can only view the world through cloudy pinholes. You thirst for clarity, but the more you squint, the darker and more confusing everything gets.
Confusion leads to fear and fear feeds despair.
Desperation is a skin that you don’t recognize and doesn’t fit.
It constricts you, limits you as a normal thinking person and you’ll do anything to tear it off.
Here’s the best way I can put it.
Most suicides are not out of depression but out of desperation.
Depression brings you to the side of a bridge. Desperation makes you jump.
*whew*…that got deep….sorry, let me try to lighten the mood a little…
um…ok, here’s a true story, I went to high school with two people who are currently somewhat famous. Sorry, no names. One is an on air personality and the other became sort of like a running gag on a very popular talk show.
Anyway, I don’t believe these two people were ever friends with one another, but I was friends with both of them.
Aside from that, the only other thing they had in common at the time, was that they were both caught masturbating in school.
Yup. Absolutely true.
Weird, right? I mean seriously, what are the odds?
And it’s not like I went to a High School filled with masturbaters. I mean, I’m sure I did, but it’s not like it was part of the curriculum. It’s not like these two were studying for a test. Just two separate people, spanking it on two separate occasions, in two separate parts of the school ( one was in an empty classroom the other was under the bleachers ) who went on to have successful careers on TV.
Now, I’m not saying that if you want to work in the entrainment field you should major in public wanking..I’m just saying that obviously it could’t hurt.
Well, that’s enough for one day.
This is a topic I’ll likely cover again in the near future….depression, not punching the munchkin…as it’s an ongoing never ending battle.
If fapping is a battle, you’re doing it wrong.
Have a nice day.