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Depression Tries to Take My Tongue!
3 min read
Not today, you bastard.
(LONG. ASS. POST. You've been warned)
My lifelong depression has reached something new. It's been numbing what it can, but I've been fighting it, if only with pain. Pain is something ( though don't worry about the implications, I'm not hurting myself... "that way"... ) numbing is nothingness. It's been ups and downs as I went through the meltdown this last year and a half, but I realized something a couple days ago that knocked me over.
Depression has been numbing my own mental dialogue.
I was scared shitless. Even when I knew it was a strong part of me, I had no idea it was THAT important to me. It's a powerful connection to my creativity, which, as an artist, is a HUGE motherfucking deal. It was like someone came in and not only said they were going to drain my blood but had all the tools, complete with visually unclean tools for the task and assistants--all proving that they're SERIOUS. And that I had no time or room to run because they're RIGHT THERE.
I have never felt dread quite like this over anything about my depression. Normally only anxiety can do this to me. But that's inflated fear coming from outside one's actual persona while this was actual coming-from-me fear. More accurately, terror.
But... I mean... what do you do? When you get a cut, you clean the wound then apply neosporin and appropriate bandaging. What the fuck do you do about mental damage? Not just "I need my mood picked up... *watches Imvader ZIM*..." This is a mental organ being cut out. Where's the needle and surgical thread or even regular thread ( not healthy, but there's an episode of M*A*S*H where they had no choice--life's not a TV show, but when you have no choice you have no choice is the point ) and you're sewing blind, regardless. You can't just SEE this shit, it's on the inside. It's around as diffcult as actually stitching up a hole in your liver all by yourself. You gotta pry yourself open, proper lighting set up, mirrors in place to see without scrunching up and compromising the incision as you work... and pray you don't sneeze.
I need to find characters that fit what I need and expose myself to them, by indulging all this stuff I'm basically giving myself steroid injections and antibiotics to boost the fuck out of my system in hopes that the system will be able to handle the healing on it's own, no sewing involved. I suppose that's like inflating your physical health so much that it regrows the parts of the organ that have been cut rather than sewing it together. I guess that makes sense. Dead tissue can't be part of the system anymore, after all.
Overall, experiences in mental illness continue to be an ever-interesting, if not an ever-terrifying, experience. A long running, life altering, painful series of lessons, to be sure.
Glitter healing
-Hal
* edited to remove personal information
(LONG. ASS. POST. You've been warned)
My lifelong depression has reached something new. It's been numbing what it can, but I've been fighting it, if only with pain. Pain is something ( though don't worry about the implications, I'm not hurting myself... "that way"... ) numbing is nothingness. It's been ups and downs as I went through the meltdown this last year and a half, but I realized something a couple days ago that knocked me over.
Depression has been numbing my own mental dialogue.
I was scared shitless. Even when I knew it was a strong part of me, I had no idea it was THAT important to me. It's a powerful connection to my creativity, which, as an artist, is a HUGE motherfucking deal. It was like someone came in and not only said they were going to drain my blood but had all the tools, complete with visually unclean tools for the task and assistants--all proving that they're SERIOUS. And that I had no time or room to run because they're RIGHT THERE.
I have never felt dread quite like this over anything about my depression. Normally only anxiety can do this to me. But that's inflated fear coming from outside one's actual persona while this was actual coming-from-me fear. More accurately, terror.
But... I mean... what do you do? When you get a cut, you clean the wound then apply neosporin and appropriate bandaging. What the fuck do you do about mental damage? Not just "I need my mood picked up... *watches Imvader ZIM*..." This is a mental organ being cut out. Where's the needle and surgical thread or even regular thread ( not healthy, but there's an episode of M*A*S*H where they had no choice--life's not a TV show, but when you have no choice you have no choice is the point ) and you're sewing blind, regardless. You can't just SEE this shit, it's on the inside. It's around as diffcult as actually stitching up a hole in your liver all by yourself. You gotta pry yourself open, proper lighting set up, mirrors in place to see without scrunching up and compromising the incision as you work... and pray you don't sneeze.
I need to find characters that fit what I need and expose myself to them, by indulging all this stuff I'm basically giving myself steroid injections and antibiotics to boost the fuck out of my system in hopes that the system will be able to handle the healing on it's own, no sewing involved. I suppose that's like inflating your physical health so much that it regrows the parts of the organ that have been cut rather than sewing it together. I guess that makes sense. Dead tissue can't be part of the system anymore, after all.
Overall, experiences in mental illness continue to be an ever-interesting, if not an ever-terrifying, experience. A long running, life altering, painful series of lessons, to be sure.
Glitter healing
-Hal
* edited to remove personal information
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