I’m feeling a little depressed lately, you know. Can’t say exactly why. Or how. Or what. Or who. Or why. One of the features of my particular type of depression (if we call it a “type”) is that I seldom know when I am in a depression. I notice that I have no energy, ambition, desire, or feelings of happiness, but it would never occur to me that I was depressed. Slowly but surely I am learning to identify it, thus allowing me to go from “What a hideous existence! All is toys!!” to “Hm, depressive symptoms. Trippy. Maybe I’ll go eat breakfast.”
It has been an eventful month or two. I’m guessing that I’m probably feeling a little raw from all The Recent Ruckus. What is The Recent Ruckus, you ask?
- I finished the newest screenplay, executed some rewrites for my manager, not crazy about the rewrites, still something sticking in my craw about it – it could be better, it’s not everything I hoped it would be, I have failed, etc.
- My brother was in the thick of one of the worst American disasters ever, and for days we had no idea whether he was alive or dead – he’s safe now with Mum & Dad. Despite my gratitude, I am experiencing a post-adrenaline crash – like how you might feel in the late afternoon after eating a breakfast of Froot Loops, chocolate cake, and Hawaiian Punch.
- All the uses of this world seem to me weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.
- I restarted therapy after an 8 month break. A sort of six-months-on, six-months-off pattern seems to work well for me. ‘This may be a significant factor, because nothing is more depressing than talking about yourself for an hour each week. Of course, it’s possible that I’m now facing up to how I really feel about things rather than keeping my head buried in the sand of manically grinning, busy-body energeticisms.
- Our Iomega external hard drive crashed way hard – without backup (I know! I know! Get off my back already!). Iomega is charging an arm and a leg to retrieve the data. I have no arms or legs to spare. I would bad-mouth Iomega and urge all readers to avoid buying their hard drives, but I’m afraid that if I do they will ask for even more arms and legs.
- Dickens the Cat – the adorable, black, sleek, rambuctious kitten we have fostered – has left us for a new home and we are forlorn and sere.
- I haven’t been drinking or using drugs lately – and when I say lately, I mean 10 years last month – and this will certainly get a body down in the dumps.
- And finally, Things Are Going Well: I’m in a bit of a work resurgence – what with the finishing of a new script, development of my web presence, regular t-shirt design, writing poems about ichthyosaurs and haikus about cats, and brewing up a series of half a dozen other projects. My wife and I laugh and laugh and seem to really be enjoying ourselves. Tonight I’m going to see Meryl Streep, David Thewlis and Jennifer Jason Leigh read a stage piece written by Charlie Kaufman and scored by Carter Burwell. And when Things Are Going Well, I begin to worry and dread the inevitable Day That Things Stop Going Well.
I’m looking forward to reading y’all’s therapeutic suggestions. I’ve already received some very helpful ones:
- “Cheer up!”
- “You think you have problems?”
- “Poor babeeeee!!”
As well as:
- “Perhaps you might accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal Savior.”
- “Your problem is you think about yourself too much. Why don’t you try thinking about ME for a change?”
- “Patroclus! O, Patroclus!” (still don’t know what this one is about)
And so, in conclusion, we can see that depression has many causes, and can be a source of much amusement in our modern American lifestyles.
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