depression

depression is a really ridiculous thing. depression is purposefully not doing things that you know have the power to bring you joy. depression is fetishizing the rut that you’re in, and associating your self identity with it. you begin to justify the self sabotage by characterizing yourself with it. it becomes a comfortable dark place to curl up in, where you can attempt to forget the scary word with its multitude of possibilities. for me, depression and addiction* go hand in hand. I usually find the most depressing thing to get addicted to, and spend as much time as possible engrossed in it, neglecting any actions that would actually contribute to my existence in a positive way. I’m lucky in that I’m able to snap out of it, take care of the most basic of needs, and find something that is more neutral than actually negative to engage myself in. yet I still return to the habit, like a moth to a flame, over and over, for varying periods of time.

somewhere in the chain of oppressive factors is the key, or so I believe. the key shifts with my moods, or it can be multiple things. a combination of actual misfortune and accompanying brain chemicals keeps me here, pondering my puzzle, trying to decide what large scale action to take to set in motion the chain of events that will lead me out of my depression. from where I currently sit, I believe it’s really the small things that lead me out, that help me to accomplish the bigger things. I am finding it harder than ever to accomplish those small things. I think it is something about harrisburg, something about this city does not call me outside. probably the most common action I would say I have taken in the past to escape depression has been to simply go outside. go ride my bike, perhaps to the park or perhaps to nowhere at all. I don’t want to believe that it’s impossible to exist here, because there’s something very big to me which is here, and won’t follow me back to Houston.

I take comfort in the fact that I am aware of my situation, I feel like it’s as good of a place to start as any. I do think that I think too much, and act too little … but the times when I have taken this sentiment to heart and decided to act, consequences be damned … well, the consequences were pretty damned and I’m still recovering. it’s easy to tell yourself to stick your neck out, but once you’ve actually been whacked on the head, the reflex to be cautious is incredibly strong, and I can’t tell myself that’s not something to respect. I need to learn to think while acting, to act with thought.

It seems clear to me that life is a puzzle. my intelligence hounds me with strategies for the abstract, and demands that I find a way to apply it to my life. I believe there is a wholeness to existence, and that my understanding must somehow be applicable to my experience, but I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off to stop trying to make it fit.

* I wanted to clarify that by addiction I don’t mean substance abuse. I mean… media abuse, really. when I was younger it was TV, and since my teenage years it’s been the internet. lately, very specifically facebook and youtube. These sites definitely do have some positive influence/indulgence to offer, but it’s very little. The time that I spend actually enjoying using these sites is incredibly short compared to how much time I spend scouring them for entertainment, refusing to move on to something else.

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This entry was posted in how I feel about my life, journal, my neuroses, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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