The Depressive Rabbit Hole

I’ve been on auto pilot for days, just trying to survive the snow and make ends meet barely. Now it is all hitting me and sending me down that black rabbit hole of depression where light cannot reach me. I rail against it, fight it off, but it is dragging me under like being sucked into quicksand. I am edgy, nervous, twitchy but too paranoid to move out of my spot lest the world implode, and even things that I find interesting seem lackluster. It’s odd how depression taints even the best things in life.

There’s this misconception that depression only impacts the things we don’t like doing. For me, it is all encompassing, right down to my ability to enjoy favorite shows like Supernatural. I’ve not watched an episode this season because I don’t want my depression coloring a show I love in negative light. I MUST protect what I love the most from being touched by depressive abyss and this includes music, as well. Music is what kept me alive my whole life so to lose the joy of it due to my mental disorders, it is a harsh, painful blow. You may as well put a pillow over my face and smother me because either way, I feel like I am dying. That’s not being overly dramatic, either. Unable to enjoy music, unable to create in my writing, unable to even score a piddly part time job waving at people curbside…And then I read the news and how the shutdown is impacting everyone and I get to live knowing my own father is cool with it now that he knows his tax refund won’t be delayed….It’s so disheartening to be surrounded by people who society views as upstanding yet know their mentality is pretty fucking scuzzy.

(Oh, for those offended by my swearing:A professor of Cognitive Science at UC San Diego named Benjamin Bergen recently published a book entitled “What the F: What Swearing Reveals About Our Language, Our Brains, and Ourselves.”
In it, this cock-sucker posits that cursing could be linked to higher intelligence.”It turns out that on average, the ones who swear the most also have the biggest vocabulary overall,” Bergen wrote.He also suggested that, “swearing might be cathartic and can relieve anger and aggression.”

I feel so unsettled today. Bad juju feelings abound. Maybe because I had a rough night of wake and sleep, and woke for two hours, tossing and turning with a headache and cold sweat, so by alarm time, all I really wanted was to stay in bed sleeping. I don’t get proper rest. My so called good nights are the ones where I wake ten times but can fall back to sleep within a half hour. The bad nights outnumber the good ones, though. Now that I’ve been hobbled in my medication doses, waking up so many times every night and having to ride out the pounding heart, sweating, racing thoughts, over and over, is excrutiating. It may sound insane but I take LESS Xanax when I am prescribed the 1mg three times daily. I no longer have that safety net and the 0.5’s barely take the edge off so the stress of knowing I ‘can’t’ take an extra half a pill or I’ll be ‘overdosing’ weighs heavily on me.

I am trying to ‘shake off’ the depressive darkness but it’s not working. It’s apparently gonna be one of those days, where I set a tiny goal, meet it, and give myself permission to flail about in the abyss. Today’s “Behavioral Health” craze would frown upon this coping mechanism, but I learned it from a therapist in the 90’s and it has served me well over the years. If it ain’t broke, I ain’t fixing it. And what the hell is with changing terminology on mental health, anyway? Psychiatric Disorders. Depression. Personality Disorder. Mood disorder. Now it’s behavioral disorder. Because we absolutely choose to go manic and burn every bridge around us and we adore going down the rabbit hole where our only company are the dark thoughts telling us how futile it all is…TOTALLY A CHOICE IN BEHAVIOR. What the fuck?

I’m ready for bed. I feel so unsafe during the day. Not like physically endangered, but there’s just so much activity and noise even in this tiny town, only at night can I find calm and peace. Much as my depression responds favorably to setting the clocks forward, it also means my anxiety will be in hyperdrive since daylight is a big trigger. We barely get ten hours a day now. Soon we’ll be getting 12, 14,17 hours of sunlight daily…And the thought terrifies me. I act so high strung as it is, even if my mood goes up, I’m going to be too jumpy to enjoy it. Fuck a fancy fucking bag.

See? I’m fucking bloody brilliant, damn it! Not really but the writer dude was onto something with swearing to relieve stress and aggression. I might offend with my foul language (yet Americans love President Trump’s ‘street talk’, huh???) but you’d be way more offended if I went around slapping people with a dead fish like I’d prefer to do. Swearing is a therapeutic,lesser evil for me. Now that’s behavioral health, swearing because it makes you feel better. Again, ain’t broke, don’t fix.


2 Responses to “The Depressive Rabbit Hole”

  1. I like the idea of slapping people with dead fish. You know, if I was threatened with being smacked with dead fish, i would be more likely to do the right thing faster. You may be on to something…

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