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Boredom > Depression?
13 years ago
General
...you'd think I'd have learned not to write these in the middle of the night at work...
So...for the past six and a half years, my life has been an unending struggle against suicidal depression. No surprise there, I regaled my ever-dwindling "fanbase" with this fact constantly. To be fair, it's been more like five years of suicidal depression, then a year of getting my head on straight after going cold turkey off of my obviously-not-working depression meds to...this. Whatever "this" is.
Seriously, I'm...kinda at a loss as to what kind of state I'm in these days. Barring the occasional emo moment like a couple of journals ago, I feel like I'm in some kind of Limbo. Before, it was a matter of finding whatever little slivers of joy or, at least, distraction to claim some respite from the never-ending onslaught of doom and depression, interspersed with constant sleep in order to escape the pain of my futile existence.
And now...I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling and remembering the plots to old cartoons I used to watch. I assume it's an improvement, since I'm no longer craving "the sweet, rapturous release of oblivion" (seriously, that IS how I used to refer to it...BTW, is Nickelback looking for a lyricist? I got notebooks of this stuff). I feel like I need a vacation, but it's not like I even know what to do with myself anymore. I dread going to work, but I've come to dread my days off almost as much. I've become painfully aware of the fact that I have no hobbies, even video games and movies, my ever-reliable distractions, hold no interest for me anymore, and writing and drawing are simply reminders of how much I still owe people and of how little I actually have to work with towards reclaiming some sort of future for myself. I mean, between the years of despair during my marriage and the years of despair OUT of my marriage...when there's no more despair, just anxiety, what's next?
Actually, that's a good way of describing this feeling: one long, endless "What's next?" It's like I'm at a crossroads of some sort, and I'm one wrong turn away from careening down the same old road to destruction as before...but, at the same time, I'm also aware of the fact that there is, somewhere, a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like some kind of lame cartoon character robot saying "Is this what you humans call...hope?"...but it's been so long since I've felt anything BUT my own "inevitable" doom that I'm honestly uncertain WHAT to call it. It's a different feeling than the stress and worry I still have to deal with, and it certainly FEELS different than the never-ending spiral of self-loathing and existential horror, but I kinda thought hope would feel...I dunno, happier? More rainbowy and singy? Few more cartoon animals at the least? Eh, you know what I mean...after a decade-plus of darkness, I just kinda expected beating my demons to feel less like a draw.
Maybe I should go ahead and make that Thunderduck puppet I was thinking of...damned if I know what the Fuck to do with it when it's finished, but at least it's SOMETHING...
So...for the past six and a half years, my life has been an unending struggle against suicidal depression. No surprise there, I regaled my ever-dwindling "fanbase" with this fact constantly. To be fair, it's been more like five years of suicidal depression, then a year of getting my head on straight after going cold turkey off of my obviously-not-working depression meds to...this. Whatever "this" is.
Seriously, I'm...kinda at a loss as to what kind of state I'm in these days. Barring the occasional emo moment like a couple of journals ago, I feel like I'm in some kind of Limbo. Before, it was a matter of finding whatever little slivers of joy or, at least, distraction to claim some respite from the never-ending onslaught of doom and depression, interspersed with constant sleep in order to escape the pain of my futile existence.
And now...I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling and remembering the plots to old cartoons I used to watch. I assume it's an improvement, since I'm no longer craving "the sweet, rapturous release of oblivion" (seriously, that IS how I used to refer to it...BTW, is Nickelback looking for a lyricist? I got notebooks of this stuff). I feel like I need a vacation, but it's not like I even know what to do with myself anymore. I dread going to work, but I've come to dread my days off almost as much. I've become painfully aware of the fact that I have no hobbies, even video games and movies, my ever-reliable distractions, hold no interest for me anymore, and writing and drawing are simply reminders of how much I still owe people and of how little I actually have to work with towards reclaiming some sort of future for myself. I mean, between the years of despair during my marriage and the years of despair OUT of my marriage...when there's no more despair, just anxiety, what's next?
Actually, that's a good way of describing this feeling: one long, endless "What's next?" It's like I'm at a crossroads of some sort, and I'm one wrong turn away from careening down the same old road to destruction as before...but, at the same time, I'm also aware of the fact that there is, somewhere, a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like some kind of lame cartoon character robot saying "Is this what you humans call...hope?"...but it's been so long since I've felt anything BUT my own "inevitable" doom that I'm honestly uncertain WHAT to call it. It's a different feeling than the stress and worry I still have to deal with, and it certainly FEELS different than the never-ending spiral of self-loathing and existential horror, but I kinda thought hope would feel...I dunno, happier? More rainbowy and singy? Few more cartoon animals at the least? Eh, you know what I mean...after a decade-plus of darkness, I just kinda expected beating my demons to feel less like a draw.
Maybe I should go ahead and make that Thunderduck puppet I was thinking of...damned if I know what the Fuck to do with it when it's finished, but at least it's SOMETHING...
now is the time to stop wondering where you are and start wondering where you can weasel your way into, the time to get up and go to where ever your get up and go got up and went to, the time to go out and find something you enjoy even if everyone else things you shouldn't enjoy it! (send postcards, or native girls, depending on how far away you end up) the only thing worth regretting is having more things to regret than you had before, so go and do stuff!
(side note: please don't write songs for nickleback, you'll only encourage them)
as for the puppet thing....go for it! there's nothing wrong with trying something new, and who knows where it'll lead?
okay, it's VERY unlikely it'll lead to a bed full of hotties with massage oil and and low inhibitions, but what exactly do you have to lose by doing something you actually want to for once?
Plus we are all more than likely going to die anyways (I mean, singularity or something might happen in our lifetimes, but I'm going to go off the assumption it's going to be just out of reach for us :P, plus you have to more than likely be dead for at least a little while to put all that stuff into your body anyways, and there's a chance you might not wake up from such a procedure) so there's no reason to rush your end.
I mean, hobbies and interests wise.
Barring that? My instinct would be to try a few things in different "genre"s so to speak and see if there's something new you like that you didn't before.
But I bet there's something somewhere in your past that you used to love doing but haven't done in a LOOONNNNG time.
I say you go back to doing toy-pose-photo comics. I didn't know ANY history of the toys/show/comics their based off of, but they were usually hillarious. Or certainly noteworthily funny. But that's totally just my idea without knowing what goes on in your brain.
He's got my back XD