How do I write about something when that very something saps me of the will to do anything?\u00a0 Really, I should stop bitching about this and do something about it, right?\u00a0 Just snap the hell out of it and be a man, live life.\u00a0 Sure, you’ve got problems, but we’ve all got them, and you’re better off than most.\u00a0 You’ve got two beautiful girls, a good job, a roof over your head…<\/p>\n
…<\/p>\n
I just don’t care.\u00a0 Apparently, our toilet leaks.\u00a0 I didn’t realize it.\u00a0 Hell, I’m looking at the damn thing and it doesn’t seem leaky.\u00a0 Our yard is overgrown.\u00a0 But I mow it!\u00a0 Everything in our house is from someone else.\u00a0 Why didn’t I buy us more stuff?<\/p>\n
Sometimes I sit on the couch and stare, like Puddy from Seinfeld.\u00a0 I’m not particularly sad, in an active way.\u00a0 I’m just sitting there.\u00a0 Maybe a mild catatonia.\u00a0 I could be doing any number of things, but I can’t decide on any of them.\u00a0 There’s a philosophical paradox called “Buridan’s Donkey.”\u00a0 A donkey is standing between two bales of hay.\u00a0 They’re both exactly the same, but he has to decide which to eat.\u00a0 He can’t, so he starves to death.<\/p>\n
I am Buridan’s Ass.<\/p>\n
Also, my mind works against me.\u00a0 I can’t finish thoughts.\u00a0 Maybe I’m just getting old.\u00a0 When I was a teenager I had a book on how to be “psychic.”\u00a0 One of the exercises involved just asking yourself something and it’ll come to you later, even if the mind blocks it from you right then.\u00a0 I don’t have time to wait for the answers.\u00a0 I have all the time in the world, but not for that.\u00a0 Maybe the Internet is to blame.\u00a0 Why remember anything, why bother storing (or moreso, recalling) the minutia of life when you can just Google it?<\/p>\n
But, it’s always been that way.\u00a0 Before my joints started creaking, before I got online almost twenty years ago.\u00a0 That kind of thing used to be blamed on TV.\u00a0 Did TV do it?\u00a0 I watched a lot of it.\u00a0 I have loads of old movies and TV shows in my head.\u00a0 I know the professor on Gilligan’s Island is named Roy something.\u00a0 I recall it sounding like a serial killer’s name.<\/p>\n
MTV had a VJ named Tabitha Soren.\u00a0 I used to wonder if it was Tabitha from Bewitched, all growed up.<\/p>\n
Am I digressing?\u00a0 My whole life is a digression.\u00a0 Existential depression, in my terms, is a lack of desire to live.\u00a0 I do have a desire to have a desire to live, but that’s one step removed from actually wanting to live, and more trouble than it’s worth, apparently.\u00a0 There’s always laundry to do, things to pick up, dishes to wash, chores and worries.\u00a0 Where’s the payoff?\u00a0 Where’s the fun in life?\u00a0 The closest I come to being happy is when I’m working on something, in that blissful zone of creating or troubleshooting.<\/p>\n
Or when I’m drunk, and all the arguments in my head are dampened down to a soggy warmth.<\/p>\n
Or there’s sex, but I won’t go there other than to label it what it is — a brief vacation to the primal.\u00a0 It’s how animals must feel.<\/p>\n
Anyway, here I am.\u00a0 Living.\u00a0 Many believe suicide is a cowardly act.\u00a0 I’ve always considered it the bravest thing you can do.\u00a0 You’re acting against the urge of every cell in your body to keep going.\u00a0 You’re silencing a billion little fellers who selfishly want you to keep breathing, walking, talking, working, washing that laundry every goddamned week.\u00a0 You’re telling them to shut the fuck up and you’re pulling that trigger.<\/p>\n
Me, I’m a coward.\u00a0 They’ve got me by the balls.\u00a0 When I was in the hospital, I was asked a half-dozen times if I’d ever attempted suicide.\u00a0 What qualifies as an attempt?\u00a0 When I was in college, I downed a bunch of over-the-counter sleeping pills.\u00a0 I don’t think I even went to sleep.<\/p>\n
I also pissed in a jar.\u00a0 In college, not during my stay in the mental hospital.\u00a0 I lived in a dorm room and hated\/feared going down the hall to use the bathroom, so I pissed in a Mason jar.\u00a0 I’d dump it out at 4AM when nobody else was around.\u00a0 I wore a trucker hat and a military surplus trench coat that was a bit too short, and had long hair, and wondered if I’d ever have a girlfriend.\u00a0 I didn’t know alcohol until my second year, when I was out of the dorms.\u00a0 If I’d drank and smoked earlier, my life would have been entirely different.\u00a0 Better?\u00a0 I don’t know, but certainly different.\u00a0 Maybe I’d have married someone down in West Virginia.\u00a0 Maybe I’d have finished college.\u00a0 As it was, I just couldn’t make it.\u00a0 I was crippled by a fear of everyone else.<\/p>\n
Digressing again.\u00a0 Where was I?\u00a0 Suicide.\u00a0 When life is a net negative, when you’re at -1 or less on that line, then the zero of death is an improvement, is it not?\u00a0 And really, honestly, who can say their life is a net positive?\u00a0 Is it worth all the work we have to do to keep going?<\/p>\n
But again, let me reiterate that I’m a coward.\u00a0 I won’t pull that trigger, jump that cliff, or sleep in that exhaust.\u00a0 I don’t even have the motivation to turn myself off.\u00a0 It’s like watching infomercials until the wee hours because you’re too lazy to get up and fetch the remote.<\/p>\n
Currently, I’m taking Pristiq and Abilify for depression, and Provigil for weariness associated with sleep apnea.\u00a0 While I was in the hospital, I tried Xanax and got a script for Klonopin.\u00a0 Today, my psychiatrist decided to add Symbyax to the mix.\u00a0 What a name!\u00a0 It’s a combination of an antipsychotic and Prozac.\u00a0 There appear to be some good reviews online, but I’m not counting the ones where it turned people fat and suicidal.<\/p>\n
If it does what the dozens of others in my pharmacological cavalcade have failed to do, then I’ll be sure to post about it.\u00a0 I don’t have a lot of hope, but then again, I just don’t care.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
How do I write about something when that very something saps me of the will to do anything?\u00a0 Really, I should stop bitching about this and do something about it, right?\u00a0 Just snap the hell out of it and be a man, live life.\u00a0 Sure, you’ve got problems, but we’ve all got them, and you’re […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[3],"class_list":["post-38","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-me","tag-depression"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=38"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":101,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38\/revisions\/101"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=38"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=38"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=38"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}