Been a while. Things should be exciting, but I’m more fragile at the moment. I should be writing for Pheno and preparing for Pax Europa (along with a couple of other unnamed projects), and I’m trying to, but focus is difficult.
What I am, however, is the following:
Diagnosed with depression.
Seeing a psychologist and therapist.
Started on anti-depressants.
It’s early days, but it’s promising so far. I’m not pretending it’ll all be fixed soon, that would be ridiculous. And yeah, I should have started years back, but better late than never eh?
How serious is it? How the fuck should I know, and why should I care? It’s a mental illness, not a fucking game of Top Trumps. I’m sure there are people dealing with worse, and my heart goes out to them. I’m not trying to rank myself against them, nor should I. I have my brain goblins, and they are mine, the last thing I’d want to do is to get in some sort of who’s more unstable pissing contest. Also, I’d lose and lose badly. I still have enough perspective to know in the grand scheme of things what I’m dealing with is low on the scale of things. That could be my inferiority complex not wanting to make a fuss, but I think that’s a point when I want to listen to it. (My wife will likely disagree with this, but she always disagrees with that complex of mine.) I guess what I’m trying to say I’m not matching my issues, such as they are, against anyone else’s.
Talking is good. It’s also terrifying at times, but feels good to get it out to a neutral observer who’s solely there to listen and help. Sure, catch me at the right moment and I’ll unload my troubles to almost anyone (I’m chatty that way), but this is a situation in which that’s expected. Which is nice. Both psych and therapist have been lovely, welcoming and wanting to help. I walked away from them feeling exhausted, but good. A bit lighter, and not in the way my wife complains about*.
The brain is still up and down, like always. I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of that. And it’s early bloody days. But yeah. If you’re in strife, and trying to deal with something, then reach out to someone. I can’t promise it’ll be easy, or that things will get better overnight, but please try. Shit, drop me a comment here and get in touch. I’ve been told by numerous people who aren’t my wife I’m a good listener. One person has even described me as a calm and reassuring presence, which is one of the nicest things said about me in a long time.
I’d leave you with a song, but the first thing that comes to mind is my realization Sunday night that finding that Niece, Age 11 hadn’t heard Metallica’s Creeping Death meant I shouldn’t play her a live version, because my in-law’s house is not the place to start yelling “DIE, MOTHERFUCKER DIE!” at the top of my lungs. I did, however, tunelessly warble the opening stanza of Rockaway Beach by the Ramones to her, one of the greatest songs ever written and I will fight with (LARP) knives with any who disagree. So I’ll leave you with that.
Love youse all.
* My recent weight loss and slight gain of muscle was certainly not appreciated at first, and is only now grudgingly being accepted.