we're not kids anymore.
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@maybemelody-blog
Depression's got me down again. Can't get out of bed again. Good news though...
1) School stuff was right beside my bed, so I've done some of that today.
2) Can't smoke inside, so I haven't done any of that today.
Seeing up-sides is a good sign, right?
"Perhaps this optimism will crash on down like a house of cards..." -- Frente!
thank god for those rare people who can tell the difference between “i don’t feel good” and “i don’t feel good”
What is depression like?
Imagine you are standing on a beach, looking out at the ocean. This beach happens to be completely surrounded by water. It is an island. The tide has been out for some time, but you can tell by the way the wind is blowing that the tide is about to come back in. You’ve even built a levee of sand in a circle around you. It’s several feet high, but you can still see just over the top of it. The sky is bright and things are looking good for you. But then in the pit of your stomach you get this feeling of terrible dread, of fear turning stale. You notice the waves are crashing farther and farther inland. And you start dreaming of when the waves will finally reach your sand wall. You imagine being completely surrounded by the ocean, stuck in your one little oasis of dry sand. There’s no way the wall can hold up forever. The wall falls. You become completely submerged in the water and wake up from your dream. You realize that the sky has suddenly become overcast and dark. The tide is at the base of your wall. But your wall doesn’t hold up as well as you thought it might. It cracks after a few minutes of pressure. The water is soon up to your knees, and you begin to shiver. You notice that there are people right next to you in the water too, but they aren’t shivering. They look as you did before the water hit you. And soon enough the water is up to your neck, and you are struggling to breathe. The people around you still look uneffected by the tide; they move, talk, and breathe as if there were no water at all. The current begins dragging you out. It doesn’t move the others. And then you start yelling for help, but no one notices your shrieks of terror. You are completely submerged. You realize that in a few minutes you will face certain death. You see under the water whole nations still operating as if nothing is happening to you. Your family, friends, and coworkers all appear to be breathing just the same while your lungs fill up with water. You try to swim towards them but your movements are slowed. You can’t reach them. Finally, they notice that something is wrong with you as you start losing life. They don’t know how to help you because they are breathing, so why can’t you? Then as you are about to die, the water recedes just enough so that you can breathe again. Your head is just barely above the water. And then the tide goes far out again so that you can freely move. But the water is still visible, even if it is far away. You ask the others to help you prepare for the next change of tide. And you know that it will come in again sometime soon, so you quickly begin to rebuild your sand barrier. But the others look at you as if you are out of your mind. ‘Did you say change of tide?’ they say, ‘except for the occasional rain storm, this green field has no standing water.” Then you are the one looking at them as if they are out of their minds. You finally begin to realize just how alone you are, and you make sure to rebuild your sand barrier so that it is stronger in the place that cracked before and wait as the tide slowly comes closer again.
A rant... a message... and a wish.
Do you ever feel like you're 20 years older than you are, and you're an outsider, even in your own body? You don't fit in with people your own age because in some way -- be it emotionally, mentally, or something entirely different -- you're just not like them? At the same time though, you don't fit in with people your own "age" because no matter how similar you are or whatever else, a part of them still sees you as some 20 year old? There's a sadness that goes with that as you realize... you're not connecting. You're passing up so much. You're 20 for Christ's sake, you're supposed to be going out with friends, meeting new people, doing stupid things... but instead you're sitting at home, weariness aching in your muscles, your bones... dragging your body, your face, your eyes towards the ground in which some day you shall lie.
It's more than that, though. Yes, there's a feeling of disconnect, a sadness, and a weight... but still there's more. No matter how hard you try though, you just can't put your finger on it. What more could there be? Once you realize you're passing up your life, what else is there to regret? Another realization. Someday, this may pass... Someday you may feel like an ordinary person, able to make connections and enjoy life as you're meant to. But as these feelings pass, it's too late. Your chances have, too. When you're thirty and forty, making the same "mistakes" you were meant to in your twenties just isn't acceptable. When you're thirty and forty, you've got responsibilities. I mean, sure you have responsibilities now. Not like those though. When you're thirty and forty you've got children, a partner, a career... and with those, a critical reputation to uphold. Going around getting drunk, experimenting, causing a ruckous... It's just inappropriate. I've seen it. In the case of a parent, Family and Children Services gets involved. In the case of your partnership, well it may simply fall apart. As for your career, who wants such an irresponsible employee?
Take me for example. An Early Childhood Educator. If these activities are inappropriate for a parent, are they not so for those who watch their children while they work? Sure, you're not doing drugs while the children are in your care (hopefully) but when word gets out that you're going on benders and getting in trouble for various shenanigans, what parent will trust you? What employer will trust you?
So you pass those experiences up. You continue on being an "ordinary" person, but... you're just not. Sure, now you feel fine, but you've missed so much. Now you're going to the less frequent parties of the responsibility-clad adult, and high school reunions... and as everyone else talks about "that one night in college" you laugh along, but it's empty. You didn't make the connections then, so how can you now? Everyone else laughs in that knowing way, that "oh yes, I've been there" kind of way. You, you just laugh because, sure the incident is funny. It's the way you laugh at an incredulously, ridiculously impossible situation in a movie. It's great fun, but you've never done it. Maybe you wish you did, or could. But you can't.
So even once you feel "normal" you're not. Even when you feel like you're "connecting" you're not connecting on the same level. It's like talking to someone who's been in jail. You can "hmm" and "haw". But the whole time you're thinking "that's nuts" because it's so different from what those of us in "normal" society experience. Or, to play Devil's advocate, it's like getting out of prison after 10, 15, how ever many years... It's just so different from the "culture" in which you've been emerged for so long. And as you tell your stories, and your audience "hmm"s and "haw"s, you see the glazed look in their eyes. You feel the wall between you, the disconnect.
Once in a while you meet another like you. My friend, she too is an old soul. She became that way later than I did, but we're still in the same boat now: missing out on our twenties. You think of that person, and maybe there's a feeling of connection because of your shared situation. There's also more sadness though as you realize that yet another person is simply missing life. Then comes the day when she says, "I have so much to tell you." At first you're excited. Maybe for quite some time. Hopefully you're excited the whole time she tells you those many things. Then you're alone again, and you think. Has she overcome "old age"? Of course you're happy for her. Good, she's still young, she has time to have the experiences you shall miss. But you shall miss them, still. And now you've lost the one connection you had. Once again you're the outsider, even with her. She knows what it is to be in your "boat," but she also knows what it is to be on the beautiful island that to you is a mere speck on the horizon. She vaguelly remembers what it is to stare at that island, but who wants to remember that? The mind glazes over it. Mere shadows of the negativity remain, and the bright light that is the thought of nightclubs, of romance, of everything else that I can't list due to inexperience... it makes those shadows even dimmer. Eventually a great rift comes between you as she forgets those feelings, except when she's around you. As I said before, who wants to remember all that? So you see each other less... and less... and less. For the less often she sees you, the less often she has to remember. The less often she has to feel sad for you.
That's a whole other thing. Those who feel sad for you. Don't they realize that you've enough sadness for you, for them, for all the other "normal" people? That sadness is your life, and the only thing that comes close to escape is being surrounded by those whose life is happiness?
That or reading. I love reading. Books are brilliant. I must correct myself, because books are the closest you come to escape. It may even be escape. For a while. The problem with books, though, is that they end. Whether you put it down at the end of a chapter, or keep reading straight through to the end of the book... at some point you must put it down, and return. Like a vacation, but so much more. When you vacation, you're still you. You still feel the way you feel. When you read, you are someone, somewhere, sometime else. You still feel when you read too, of course, but you feel one of two things: the emotions of the characters, or the emotions brought on by the plot, the theme, and the mood of the book. You feel what someone else tells you to feel. What a "normal" person tells you to feel. All the feelings They can feel and you simply can't, or don't, or however you want to label it. At some point though, the words stop. The emotional directions... stop. The characters you have come to love, to hate... vanish. The world you've become so entangled in drops away from right below your feet.
And then what? You read another? It also ends. Another? Same result. At some point you come to the realization I have just explained: eventually, they all end. Eventually you must return to reality.
Eventually is such a double entendre. Not literally, of course. It has only one meaning. However it has so many emotions. When you must eventually put down a book and leave that "reality" behind, eventually is very negative. Dreadful even. However, returning to an earlier part of my rant, when you will eventually feel "normal," the word is full of hope. Hope and dread. Such polar opposites... and that is why eventually is a double entendre. A double entendre of emotion.
Eventually this rant, too, must end. For you, that "eventually" is probably full of hope. Finally --err, eventually-- these miserable words will stop dragging me down. Although if you've read this far, maybe that "eventually" is full of dread. Maybe you feel as I do, and I am like that old souled friend with whom you finally connected in some way. Well, to the prior: congratulations. I am done. To the latter: I am sorry. For so much. I am sorry to end this minor connection. However, I am more sorry that you connected. I am sorry that you and I paddle the same watercraft. I am sorry that you stare at the same island, and feel the same sense of longing. I wish to offer you a telescope, so you might at least feel a little bit closer to that island. Or a motor, so your boat might get there faster. Of course these offerings do not help in the sense of actually reaching that destination. Hopefully though they might help in the way a life preserver might, keeping you afloat in the sea of sadness that stands between you and that island. Hopefully... hopefully they give you hope. Or a sense that you are not alone. If I could give you that telescope, I might tell you to look away from the island, and instead look starboard. Off in the distance, there is another boat. And starboard of that one, another, and another. While that realization is full of sadness, it also ebbs the loneliness a little. Perhaps one day we shall cast out lines, and pull our boats closer so we might feel even less lonely. For now, mental illness remains a problem our society views as "best swept under the rug," or "all in our heads". Oh the stories I could tell with those four simple words. But allas, I promised the former people, those who saw my "eventually" as hopeful, that I was done. So I bid you adieu, best of luck on your journey, and a wish upon whatever star guides you closer to that island... that someday we shall be seen, and heard, and recognized. Perhaps even helped.
...and he was once voted the world's sexiest man. Reblog if you agree with that vote. Hahaha.
Nimoy has a crush on Bilbo? FTW.......
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