Filed under: Seattle, Uncategorized | Tags: antidepressants, anxiety, crisis, darkness, depression, desolation, emptiness, existential crisis, fear, medication, shell
I feel nervous in writing this because I have a momentary peace within me. I am on day #10 of my depression, and it’s the first one in which I’ve been able to write. My psychologist recommended that I keep writing, though the idea of writing is harder than the hard task of actually getting up in the morning. I’ve never been a huge fan of the mornings, but the mornings in Seattle made me happy. To wake, prepare, and read as I boarded the bus was something that I loved. I loved the morning. I loved life. Then it went away.
I don’t want to reiterate it, because I fear reliving it and shattering the momentary calm that I hope will be a lasting calm. Ten days ago something snapped, a switch was flipped, and absolute panic and desolation ripped the world apart. It can’t be me, and it can’t be my action of tempting fate by talking about it. I am to write fiction, and that’s what I’ll do my best to do, but the fiction lies not so much in the facts but in their order.
* * *
“You will not become a drug addict.” She said to him, reading the look in his eyes. There were prescriptions on the glass desk between them, many. In addition to the empty vials he had brought from last week. “Many people are far worse off. You should see what I see. These really are nothing; they’ll make you feel better.”
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: anxiety, blowback, crisis, depression, independence day, may day, may day parade, mustache may, parades, rick astley, rush hour, seagull shit, Seattle, splashback
It was a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. It made me realize how someone could contemplate suicide, and as I sat at my desk I could only think to get out of the building. Would I vomit in the hallway? Would I pass out? There was a panic in me, a horrifying fear, and with each attempt I made to quench it, it grew worse.
Thus began the most horrifying bout of momentary depression I’d ever felt. I’ve long been appreciative of the fact that we are controlled by our minds; different chemicals produce different emotion and different moods. But I’d always thought that much of that was questionable. I had scoffed at the Ritalin adds, and rolled my eyes at the Zolofts and Prozacs that supposedly treated depression. That changed today.
