I don’t view depression as waves, at least not for me. My depression feels like white flakes in a snow globe and are activated when something shakes me to my core. I become the center and the space around me becomes my world, a world I cannot see. While blinded I feel my swinging mood aiming for me like a gauntlet and I am the fool that has entered into it blind. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot escape.
It has been 17 years since I found out about my birth mom and my sister. It has been 12 years since I tried to kill myself the first time. It has been 9 years since I found happiness again. Through those transitions I have relearned my depression. Through those years I have grown to accept it and myself.
People always want to fix things. Fix your smile so it looks just right, fix your attitude so it fits your new smile, and while we are at it let’s fix your past so you can finally move on. Depression? Take these meds, a few more pills. Lay back down on this couch… aren’t you comfortable yet? Tell me about your problems so I can tell you why they aren’t really issues. Let me know all your concerns so I can explain how you created them. Men and women in white coats scribbling your life away in a second. Trying to find the answers when we don’t even know the question.
Depression settles at the bottom. It never goes away. It never “finally leaves.” When happiness slams the door who is the first to notice and peep their head from waiting closet? Who knows just the right words to whisper in your ear so that you question the answers you once had?
Feelings come like a shaking sun and all you can do is stand there in your crystal prison and wait.
You never think about breaking up when it comes to blogging, but it happens. I recall a time when I had a blogger buddy, let’s call him Gary for fun, and he was a Dad blogger. Super pro dad this and that and men and go male go!
I, kind of like an idiot but it is too late now, decided on the pen name Opinionated Man and therefore instantly attracted these super male types. I’ve shared though that I’m a father of two girls and more importantly, I have some personal morales that keep me from doing what some people do and think. I have my own opinions.
I’m not sure what the argument was about the final day. It could have been over Peyton Manning for all I know because I’ve been in real arguments over Peyton Manning and I don’t take that topic lightly. So if the bastard slandered Peyton then we probably did fight, but now that I’m thinking about it… that couldn’t of been it.
Because he said “you are supposed to be a dad blogger and support me back.”
I see and read the struggle everyday. Our struggles, through the posts, they become a canopy. A hanging remembrance of sadness felt. Overwhelming because it overshadows us, we cannot turn about.
Our path, a shared path, with memory stones. A stone for each soul that thought they were alone. We walk, a shared path, never knowing that we share the way. One way, one path, yet no one else feels this way we say.
I read about a fallen star today. Another star, someone else’s fall, but it feels the same. A stinging pain that stays like a stain. Look down, not up, we’ll be ok.
I check up on people and their blogs. Through the window of course.
If I ring the doorbell Gary will just talk my ear off. If I say hello I’ll have to hear how well Cindy is doing and how great her doll collection is. Those dolls creep me out and Gary is a hugger… we all know how I feel about huggers.
If you don’t have time to be social then you become “the reader.” You become the ‘liker’ even though you really feel like telling jim his new murse isn’t a good choice. You only come out of your shell when something really pulls you by the teeth and even then… someone damn well better be dying. Because you’ve become a browser due to life, but you are still a blogger…