So I'm walking on the trail this morning, and a lady walking four dogs approaches from the opposite direction. The lead dog, who isn't leashed, confidently waddles up to me to get some behind-the-ear scritches, which I happily supply in abundance. (I have quite an overstock so I can easily spare them.) Then I look up to see the other three puppers patiently waiting for their respective turns, entire bodies wagging happily in anticipation.
Again, I oblige. I'm like Santa for dogs on Christmas morning over here.
Next thing I know, I am tangled up in leashes, and I suddenly realize this could be a ruse for a kidnapping. (Then I remember: I'm poor, so I should be okay.)
Eventually, I get extracted from the leash tangle, and bid them all a good day.
This will be an excellent day.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Friday, June 8, 2018
The Discussion No One Wants to Have
I think now is the time to start having the discussion that many of us are ashamed, or afraid, to have. It's about depression and suicide. I'll start. This isn’t going to be easy.
I'll go ahead and admit that there is hardly a day that goes by that I don't fantasize about my own death, self-inflicted or otherwise. I'm much too cowardly (not to mention curious to see what's next, like any good story) to ever actually carry through with it, but those thoughts are always there. It matters not if I’m employed, unemployed, single, in a happy relationship, rich or poor; that shadow hangs over me almost constantly. It may vary in size and intensity on any given day, but it is a constant presence.
When I first moved I was terrified of being alone, worried that the isolation would simply overwhelm me. (I wound up loving the abundant Nature around me, so it actually wound up helping immensely.) One of the reasons I’m not on Facebook much these days is it is hard to look at smiling families on vacation, while waking up alone and literally pooping in a bucket. (Plumbing issues. Don’t ask. Hey at least my cats are friendly and the bucket gets cleaned, though the cats don’t clean the bucket, which would admittedly be very cool of them.) The voice in my head, which convincingly imitates my own voice, constantly whispers “you’re an utterly pathetic, worthless loser and your life has no meaning.” I know that voice is a lie, because I’m obviously awesome, but it is still there, like a little monster with claws and teeth tearing its way out of my stomach.
You see, Depression is something many people deal with, but is not often discussed. People who suffer tend to hide those feelings away, afraid to show weakness or any other such utter bullshit. Well I’m writing this because maybe, just maybe, someone else is suffering in silence, and this will encourage them to speak out. Or maybe at least feel somewhat comforted, as misery certainly does love company.
Remember when everyone was shocked after Robin Williams committed suicide? Depression is far more common than people realize. And before you exclaim “but Tophy, old chap, they make medications and support groups and the like,” you are correct. But meds are expensive, and go horribly wrong when you come off of them. Support groups are terrifying for introverts with social anxiety.
I’m not trying to make excuses, just saying that I feel ya, fellow introverted peeps. I do have methods for combating that voice, such as quiet walks in Nature, music, meditation, telling myself I’m going to die eventually anyway so why rush, and logging off of social anxie- I mean media. Also, I know that some choices can never be undone.
One last word of encouragement, both to myself and others: some of the best things in my Life happened when I learned to let go. It is almost as if the Universe Itself took over and said, “Chill out, bruh, I’ve got this shit handled!” And you know what? Like Whoopie said, “I’m here!” (Only I said it quieter because, introvert.)
And I plan to be for a while yet.
Hopefully.
I'll go ahead and admit that there is hardly a day that goes by that I don't fantasize about my own death, self-inflicted or otherwise. I'm much too cowardly (not to mention curious to see what's next, like any good story) to ever actually carry through with it, but those thoughts are always there. It matters not if I’m employed, unemployed, single, in a happy relationship, rich or poor; that shadow hangs over me almost constantly. It may vary in size and intensity on any given day, but it is a constant presence.
When I first moved I was terrified of being alone, worried that the isolation would simply overwhelm me. (I wound up loving the abundant Nature around me, so it actually wound up helping immensely.) One of the reasons I’m not on Facebook much these days is it is hard to look at smiling families on vacation, while waking up alone and literally pooping in a bucket. (Plumbing issues. Don’t ask. Hey at least my cats are friendly and the bucket gets cleaned, though the cats don’t clean the bucket, which would admittedly be very cool of them.) The voice in my head, which convincingly imitates my own voice, constantly whispers “you’re an utterly pathetic, worthless loser and your life has no meaning.” I know that voice is a lie, because I’m obviously awesome, but it is still there, like a little monster with claws and teeth tearing its way out of my stomach.
You see, Depression is something many people deal with, but is not often discussed. People who suffer tend to hide those feelings away, afraid to show weakness or any other such utter bullshit. Well I’m writing this because maybe, just maybe, someone else is suffering in silence, and this will encourage them to speak out. Or maybe at least feel somewhat comforted, as misery certainly does love company.
Remember when everyone was shocked after Robin Williams committed suicide? Depression is far more common than people realize. And before you exclaim “but Tophy, old chap, they make medications and support groups and the like,” you are correct. But meds are expensive, and go horribly wrong when you come off of them. Support groups are terrifying for introverts with social anxiety.
I’m not trying to make excuses, just saying that I feel ya, fellow introverted peeps. I do have methods for combating that voice, such as quiet walks in Nature, music, meditation, telling myself I’m going to die eventually anyway so why rush, and logging off of social anxie- I mean media. Also, I know that some choices can never be undone.
One last word of encouragement, both to myself and others: some of the best things in my Life happened when I learned to let go. It is almost as if the Universe Itself took over and said, “Chill out, bruh, I’ve got this shit handled!” And you know what? Like Whoopie said, “I’m here!” (Only I said it quieter because, introvert.)
And I plan to be for a while yet.
Hopefully.
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