Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2003-06-14 11:42 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2003-06-14 11:42 pm
Depression (and I'm still hanging on: can't hurt Darkside like that, can't abandon my obligations)
My father used to rail that suicide was "a permanent solution to a temporary problem".
The problem is, that depression doesn't just go away. It may be gone for a while, but it's lurking around the corner somewhere, just waiting to strike at any sign of weakness. You know it's there, and you know it's always coming back, that it's never going to let you have peace.
I would have straight As in school, a fucking 4.0 average, if some days didn't whisper to me that it's not worth the bother of getting out of bed.
Triggers for depression come and go. But how do you fight something that'll just co-opt a new innocent event to take over your mind and body? You can learn to work around this insecurity, that trauma. But the fifth, the tenth, the fiftieth, the hundredth time you've learned how to say "Fuck you" and not "pass the knife" over something, you wonder where it's going to hit next, what thing is going to make you a raving maniac or just shut-down silent this next time. And you think about everything there is in the world, and you wonder how many times you're going to have to do this shit.
And you know that if you were smart enough, strong enough, you could beat this, but you're not.
And some days you do wish you had the guts to just fix it. It's a permanent problem. Sometimes it's in remission, and when it's in remission, it's wonderful... but it's always going to come back.
The problem is, that depression doesn't just go away. It may be gone for a while, but it's lurking around the corner somewhere, just waiting to strike at any sign of weakness. You know it's there, and you know it's always coming back, that it's never going to let you have peace.
I would have straight As in school, a fucking 4.0 average, if some days didn't whisper to me that it's not worth the bother of getting out of bed.
Triggers for depression come and go. But how do you fight something that'll just co-opt a new innocent event to take over your mind and body? You can learn to work around this insecurity, that trauma. But the fifth, the tenth, the fiftieth, the hundredth time you've learned how to say "Fuck you" and not "pass the knife" over something, you wonder where it's going to hit next, what thing is going to make you a raving maniac or just shut-down silent this next time. And you think about everything there is in the world, and you wonder how many times you're going to have to do this shit.
And you know that if you were smart enough, strong enough, you could beat this, but you're not.
And some days you do wish you had the guts to just fix it. It's a permanent problem. Sometimes it's in remission, and when it's in remission, it's wonderful... but it's always going to come back.
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Happily for me, this was a rant, as evidenced by the coherent nature of the writing. If I actually were seriously depressed right now, I wouldn't have been able to put words in a row like that.
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...Though it sometimes does help to even get a few words out there.
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My b/f says the Navy taught him that as well. I <3 his logicalness.
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Not that I suffer from depression, per se, but if you ever find out the answer to that question, could you please let me know?
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It's... rough.
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As Ekaterin would say: "Miles, are you trying to one-up my dead?"
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Your post will definitely be going into my memories.
I'm on drugs. I'm on drugs that I am likely to be on for the REST OF MY LIFE. That's hard for me to comprehend sometimes...that my own parents have said to me, "You're a lot nicer to be around, now." To me, it seems like such a small change, preventing four to six days of depression a month, and slowing down my residual hyperness a bit...but apparently there are far greater changes that I am not capable of noticing, from the inside.
And there's probably no way I can make this change on my own. It's not a strength issue. It's a chemical imbalance problem. The difference in looking at the world is...shocking.
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Those who know me in person fear my whirlwind cleaning ("cleaning frenzy", I call it, borrowing terminology from Vampire: the Masquerade); anyone who stands in my way is either co-opted, or hides.
And I fall in love the same way that I clean.