Bouncing Back Quickly


This is not a personal blog in the sense that I talk about me and my life and what happens in it (you would be as bored as I am if I did). It’s about my opinions and reactions to things that interest me, and is only personal in the sense that these build up some kind of picture of the kind of person I am.

What I am, and what I don’t write about, for a variety of reasons, is a person who is suffering from depression and who has been on anti-depressant medication for something around a decade by now. I don’t write about it because some of it involves people whose privacy I have no right or wish to invade, but mostly because I’m sick of the subject and don’t want to regurgitate it.

Yesterday was a bad day. That’s a relative distinction when the par definition for any given day is bad, but yesterday was way beyond the normal state of existence for me. I was completely alienated yesterday, from anyone and everyone. Being in work was a major trial: I go into an ‘act’ as it is if I’m called upon to deal with customers on the phone, an upbeat, friendly, cheerful, helpful version of myself which was a universe removed from how I was feeling inside.

I’m not going to go into why yesterday was so awful for me. It was about feeling isolated, about feeling fallen in and shrunken, so that the universe feels limited solely to the physical space that you personally occupy. Nothing beyond you is real, or matters in the slightest: nothing cares about you, you do not exist for other people beyond that zone which extends about a centimetre from your skin.

There were things, issues, that contributed to my feeling that way, but then there are always such things, day after day. As I do with my general condition, I accept them, process them, move on. Each of these things is, to one extent or another, exacerbated by my own perspective. What I feel and see as slights, even though these are things that in a reversed situation I would not do for this reason, are things that would only provoke perplexity if I tried to explain to anyone how they had rubbed on me, and sometimes that they had rubbed on me at all.

I couldn’t wait to get out at 9.00pm and go home. When things are like that, the only really safe place for me is away from everybody else. I’m going out Friday evening, for which I have taken a few hours holiday, going for a meal with an old mate I’ve known for over 55 years, and in yesterday’s state it would have been an incredibly unwise thing to do. Such states involve a great deal of loathing towards the outside world, for letting me down absolutely, for providing no safety valve.

Nor was I anxious to write my daily allocation of the novel. I was in incredibly the wrong mental state for a light, friendly section of inconsequential chatter. Yet habits and the determination to establish them demanded I try, and the result was a lot better than I could have imagined.

And that brings me to today. I woke up, early, still tired (I have been tired all year: it’s a consequence of the depression, and the inability of anything to energise me). I quickly downloaded The Big Bang Theory and Legends of Tomorrow, blogged the former, and I’m back to normal. Not entirely: the shadow of yesterday’s feelings is still over me and I’m not displaying any of the ebullience with which I tend to display at work (in a call centre, among people who are paid to talk all day, you have to complete for attention, whether you feel like it or not). But for practical purposes, I’m my usual self again.

So what’s changed? Bugger all as far as I can tell. What provoked me yesterday hasn’t been alleviated ion the slightest. All that’s changed is, yet again, my ability to deal with it, to fold it up and put it away where it doesn’t crap all over my day. Which, remember, is obeying its default state of being bad. I swear, if I had any idea as to how this shit works, it would make my life incredibly easier.

I wrote about my condition several times yesterday but deleted everything every time. That state of mind is not a sensible one in which to try to describe how you’re feeling, not to mention the self-pitying aspect, which is never pleasant to see in anyone. I’m only writing about it today because I’ve practically gone through a 180 degree reversal and I have no idea what’s spurred it. I’m taking the medication every day.

One thing that is certain: putting the void behind me in the manner I have has unleashed an overpowering urge to write reams and reams…

Anyway, I felt the urge and since this isn’t dripping with misery, I’ll break a habit and post it. Don’t worry, you’re not going to have to put up with stuff like this regularly, or even often. More fun stuff coming up next, promise.

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