Fuck you, depression
I hate how you never really go away. You just lie dormant, waiting for that vulnerable moment, that chink in the armor. And then you attack, full bore with the negative thoughts, the anger turned inward, the tears and the downward spiral. I hate how I’m always going to have you within me. You’re like herpes of the soul.
It’s been a time of ups and downs, but yesterday, I felt quite fine. And then a stupid, insignificant slight happened, and I guess that was the proverbial straw.
I’m tired, y’all. Of so damn many things, all of which I can’t control.
I’m tired of worrying about everything. It’s exhausting. I’m tired of worrying about money and the cost of everything. About John’s health. About a million things that haven’t happened yet, that may very well not happen, but they might.
I’m so tired of this damned election, I could scream. I’m sick of the ugliness, the anger, the fear-mongering. The incredible ignorance, the racism, the stupidity. Of @#$%ing idiots claiming that babies born of rape are a “gift from God.” Last week, in an effort to allay my anxiety, Mr. D said, “You know, no matter who wins, we still live in the best country in the world.” I’m not so sure. This is a country where people don’t recognize a photo of Albert Einstein, but they sure as hell recognize one of Honey Boo Boo. Where people can’t spell the simplest of words, or use an apostrophe properly.
I’m tired of the social media that I’m so damned addicted to. Every day I see more and more stupid, petty crap, and yet I keep going back. And it doesn’t help that I am constantly bombarded with photos, tweets, comments and reports about the latest spanking party I can’t attend. Last week it was the World Spanking Party, this weekend it’s Crimson Moon. How the @#$% do people afford to go to each and every one of these things?? They cost a fortune! I understand that, for the models, it’s a working weekend and they make up for the cost with shoots and sessions. But what about everyone else? I miss my friends. I miss that camaraderie. I know it’s childish, but when I read all that stuff, I’m back to that insecure kid on the periphery of everything, longing to be on the inside.
And yet, on the flip side, I’m burned out on people. I want to push everyone away and retreat to a quiet island. Which is ridiculous, because of course then I’d start craving attention. But sometimes, aside from John, I really don’t know whom to believe in. People love you… until they don’t. Until someone/something better comes along. Until your humanity shows, your vulnerability, your need. Best not to need anyone at all.
I’m tired of ME. I’m my own worst enemy.
Last weekend, John and I were driving to his sister’s restaurant in the canyon. Parking there can be a challenge, since there are limited spaces, and the locals use them for long-term parking, even though they’re not supposed to. So, when we get there and there’s no place to park, it’s a huge pain, because we have to drive a long way to get to an area where we can park on the street. And because the canyon roads are very narrow, it’s difficult to turn around; especially for me, because I have poor depth perception.
So anyway, no parking spaces, and when I tried to turn around, it took three attempts and cars were coming and I got really frustrated, blurting, “Arrrrgghhh… I hate this place!” John remarked, “You hate too many things.”
He’s right. I do. I’m angry. And because I can’t seem to get a handle on it, I turn it inward. Presto — depression.
This too shall pass. I will go to John’s tonight, have a change of scenery, have some camaderie and comfort. But for now, this is where I am. Sorry, y’all. Can’t entertain, can’t post Chross-worthy fun stuff. It’s just not there.
I have some work to do. Perhaps I should go do it. Hope everyone has a good weekend. Wishing all the best to those who may be in the path of Hurricane Sandy. Sheesh, even Mother Nature is pissed off.