So last week I had what could be called a…setback. Yeah, setback, let’s go with that. I hate to be so dramatic as to say that the death of Robin Williams triggered something, but that seemed to be the linchpin, exacerbated by hormones and general job frustration. I don’t talk much in detail about my job online, mostly because it’s boring and like most people I don’t particularly care for it. It took way longer than it should have to get a request for a measly two days off approved, and before I got my answer (they eventually said yes, thank the good lord) I spent almost an entire evening ranting and crying, angry at myself and at circumstance for having a job I really can’t afford to quit, and lacking the motivation and tenacity required to look for a new one. Further complicating matters is that I feel guilty when I complain too much about my job, because I know there’s always someone out there just dying for the opportunity to tell me that I’m lucky to have a job in the first place.
So yeah, last week sucked, on a global and personal level. I’m doing a little better now. I finished some art, been doing posts on my other blog, watching more movies, like I said I was going to do. I have a short but very welcome vacation next week. There’s always stuff to eagerly, happily anticipate in my life, I’m very fortunate there.
But goddamn, this is hard. I feel like I’m balancing myself on the tiniest chunk of driftwood in a great big sea, and all it takes is one gust of wind blowing just the right way to send me falling back into the water again. The thing they don’t always make clear about recovering from depression is that it doesn’t take very much to undo all the work you’ve done. I don’t want to speak for everyone suffering from it, but I know I tend to look for signs that there’s really no such thing as recovering, and that depressed is my default setting, that’s how I’m supposed to be. Robin Williams killing himself was a big sign—as a lot of people have said, if he couldn’t make it, what hope is there for the rest of us? But it doesn’t have to be anything that huge either. It can just be a bad day, a sense that someone out there is poking at you with a stick and having a laugh at your expense. Last Monday I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Tuesday and Wednesday felt like…well, I don’t know how to describe it, but it was pretty terrible. Then Thursday, the proverbial cloud started to lift. A little, at least.
I know this is part of the whole “good day/bad day” thing. This is normal, and I’m an old hand at it. But I still can’t stop maintaining some sort of points system, in an attempt to prove to myself that I’m better off not trying to be happy. As I said before, I’m at war with my own brain here. At least if it was another person I could walk away from them. You can’t leave yourself alone.