What the fuck am I even doing here?
Crap, really? I’m approaching 1,500 posts?
Whoa.
Milestone.
Thing is, you kinda expect lightning bolt moments to hit you on a milestone event.
This one comes in a bit… premature? I have PME syndrome?
I’m being a bit silly.
And that’s the milestone, for me.
This blog doesn’t have to focus solely on my depression and anxiety.
It can have moments of lightness.
There can be. A balance.
Thanks Sam, for helping me realize this earlier.
So I’ve been wrestling with this for a while, and I think I finally understand why.
I’m sure other parents realize just how hard this is.
I wish there was a manual, or hell, even talking points.
Something.
How do you ease the anxiety, when you’re in the midst of it yourself?
It’s not helping that the dog is growling at the cats because they don’t want to play with her.
I really want to soothe his angst, and help him sleep.
God, I’m really bad at this.
I have a new appreciation for the day, now that I am a parent.
Amazing how perspective shifts gears so effortlessly.
It’s a good day here.
Here’s to many more.
C is playing the piano, partly because he has a performance on Tuesday, but also because, as he says, “I am stressed”. Ironically, he is practicing It’s a Wonderful World.
He, like many of us, are in disbelief at the Ontario election results.
I am particularly shocked that a lot of Toronto ridings went blue. It is small comfort that our riding went to the NDP.
We’re gonna be governed by a man who has no leadership experience, is alleged to be running his father’s company into the ground, being sued by his sister-in-law for withholding/mismanaging his brother’s estate, has 25% of his candidates being investigated for various substandard practices (I am being polite).
M and I had a brief conversation earlier, which revolved around how do we teach C to be a better person when an asshat is leading our province? And at this moment, I’m really struggling for an answer.
I have to admit I’m worried for my own state of mind; I can’t let this slide me into depression.
I voted. I voted NDP. But aside from electing our candidate, I feel helpless.
It’s 12:30 am and I’m having coffee.
There’s a buzz in my head. If I strain, listen past the static, I can hear one of the characters whispering.
He’s unapologetically politically incorrect. Like, wow. I’m not sure what part of my brain he’s from, definitely my darker side. But there’s no filter in him. Absolutely none.
He’s deeply offensive. And necessary.
I’ve strapped on the MP3 player and am playing Before the Dawn, then will move onto more eclectic stuff.
I’m ready, my lord.
One of my top 10 movies.
I’m remembering a scene that describes exactly how I’m feeling right now.
Tom Cruise (as David) stands on a rooftop to face his final fear. It’s a moment of clarity for him.
I feel like I’m on the verge of that for my play. Like I’m standing on the edge and looking into the void. And smiling, because I can tell that the story it waiting for me to … leap without fear and just let the muse take hold.
Now, the nature of my face your fears moment? I’m not exactly sure what it is. But I can feel it, deep in my bones. Just like I did for A Song for Rachel. Because then, I’d lived it. The play became a part of me. Last Call feels the same.
This is not Russian roulette. But I desperately want to pull the literary trigger.
I’m experiencing a dip. Started last night. No underlying cause. It just is.
I wonder if I’ve done this to myself. Counter-measure to feeling happy. That it’s such a foreign concept that I have to unconsciously sabotage myself. To keep me ‘grounded’.
Which is utter bullshit, I know.
But it’s the way my brain is wired.
Isn’t that fucked up?
I am heartened that I have a fiancée who understands. A boy whose laugh can lift my spirits. And friends to support me.
Ultimately, it is enough.
But right now.
Ugh.
I hate this.
Ride it out, I tell myself. It’ll pass.
And it will.
I just can’t make it go any faster.
At least Harold isn’t here, whispering in my ear. He’s a bastard, that one.
Just plain old, middle-of-the-road depression.
But M and C are home now, and I feel it lifted, just a little, by their presence.
I am currently in a very good head space. And the rest of me isn’t complaining.
The rain has me in its thrall. After almost 6 years of seeing it from a basement, it’s quite the thing to watch the clouds roll in and open themselves to us. Q107 is on in the background, the dishes are washed, and the boy is in bed, if not yet asleep.
It hits me in waves. Like waking from a dream and realizing I wasn’t sleeping at all. I’m living the life I imagined for myself when I was young, one that a few years ago seemed painfully unattainable.
Born to be wild
Born to be wild
Work could be more fruitful; but they did provide me a bit to do today and I have a class to teach next week, and I can take on extra contracts to make up the shortfall (provided they get offered).
I’ve had issues with being happy. It never came easy for me. Even the best days (like my brother’s wedding), I struggled. This was way before I was diagnosed as depressed, which I’m sure played a part. But even after I started taking anti-depressants, I would have good days, but not over a prolonged period.
And yet now.
Yeah.
I’d almost use the word ‘foreign’ to describe it. But it feels natural now.
Hit me with your best shot
Fire away
This is me in 2018.
Happy.
The Bloody Doors Off 