I was going to write a post titled "The trifecta of stupid, the amazing power of boring and my legs are steel springs" which was going to be both fascinating and astonishing, I composed it almost completely in my head during the hour long walk home from work. Instead, after a little visit over to Gempires I have decided to scrap the whole plan and go with something different. I want to talk about depression.
I want to talk about the eternal incredible fuckedness of depression. I want to fucking rant about fucking depression because I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. There is no room for eloquence here. There is no room in my life anymore for beautiful descriptions of the feeling of copper wires running through my veins that signals the beginning of depression. There is no room for romanticising about the heavy lead of my arms, the stark scars on my wrists and the inability to do, not anymore. If I even begin to suspect that maybe, just maybe I'm beginning to feel like I might maybe sort of feel like I'm headed for depressed I declare an all out Field Attack on the fucker that is depression. And these days I'm battle hardened and it doesn't stand a chance.
Here's what I do, step by motherfucking lock and load step. Step one, shop for battle foods, oily fish, vitamins with c, b zinc & magnesium, dark green leafy veg, dried apricots, almonds, starchy carbs and dark chocolate. These are battle foods as recommended by my doctor. I double my exercise, this encourages feel good chemicals, I set a definite sleep routine and stick to it, I lower caffeine, ban alcohol and other mind altering substances, I do yoga, I practice positive self talk and other cognitive behaviour stuff, no matter how stupid I feel doing it. I clean my house and keep my room immaculate, this is a battle ground and depression loves mess and disorder. I talk with two friends a day no matter how much the evil fucker of depression wants me to isolate myself. I dance, I sing and keep on doing it, every day, every fucking day until the copper starts to dissolve and joy creeps silently back to surprise me.
I am lucky. I can do this without medication. I can manage this very effectively, I do it so automatically now that sometimes the copper comes and goes almost immediately. I am lucky because these are battles I can win.
If you feel depressed seek help. Go to Beyond Blue, see your doctor, there are free psychologists at community health centres, you can go without a referral. There are government funded programs that pay for you to see psychologists in private practice with a referral from your doctor. If your doctor is a fuckhead go to a different surgery, go to a different surgery until you get a human doctor with compassion that will take time to help. There are many of these doctors out there. If you are a woman and want to feel safe there are community organisations for women only that have counsellors that offer free or subsidised services. This is information every person on planet earth should know.
If you are suicidal, or want to be, call this number 13 11 14 or click here.
If you feel so bad that you can't do any of the above then call the person that you love best and tell them you need help, not tomorrow, not on the weekend, not in the morning, now.
If this post was too boring and off topic for you then you, my friend, are the luckiest person alive. Regular services resume tomorrow. Right now I need to go and point some good vibes in the general direction of Gempires who is brave and strong and astonishing.
Final word. I am really happy, yes, really, no fooling, I am. This is thanks to winning the battles so consistently that I can store my battle helmet in the same cupboard as my lungeing whip.
I want to talk about the eternal incredible fuckedness of depression. I want to fucking rant about fucking depression because I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. There is no room for eloquence here. There is no room in my life anymore for beautiful descriptions of the feeling of copper wires running through my veins that signals the beginning of depression. There is no room for romanticising about the heavy lead of my arms, the stark scars on my wrists and the inability to do, not anymore. If I even begin to suspect that maybe, just maybe I'm beginning to feel like I might maybe sort of feel like I'm headed for depressed I declare an all out Field Attack on the fucker that is depression. And these days I'm battle hardened and it doesn't stand a chance.
Here's what I do, step by motherfucking lock and load step. Step one, shop for battle foods, oily fish, vitamins with c, b zinc & magnesium, dark green leafy veg, dried apricots, almonds, starchy carbs and dark chocolate. These are battle foods as recommended by my doctor. I double my exercise, this encourages feel good chemicals, I set a definite sleep routine and stick to it, I lower caffeine, ban alcohol and other mind altering substances, I do yoga, I practice positive self talk and other cognitive behaviour stuff, no matter how stupid I feel doing it. I clean my house and keep my room immaculate, this is a battle ground and depression loves mess and disorder. I talk with two friends a day no matter how much the evil fucker of depression wants me to isolate myself. I dance, I sing and keep on doing it, every day, every fucking day until the copper starts to dissolve and joy creeps silently back to surprise me.
I am lucky. I can do this without medication. I can manage this very effectively, I do it so automatically now that sometimes the copper comes and goes almost immediately. I am lucky because these are battles I can win.
If you feel depressed seek help. Go to Beyond Blue, see your doctor, there are free psychologists at community health centres, you can go without a referral. There are government funded programs that pay for you to see psychologists in private practice with a referral from your doctor. If your doctor is a fuckhead go to a different surgery, go to a different surgery until you get a human doctor with compassion that will take time to help. There are many of these doctors out there. If you are a woman and want to feel safe there are community organisations for women only that have counsellors that offer free or subsidised services. This is information every person on planet earth should know.
If you are suicidal, or want to be, call this number 13 11 14 or click here.
If you feel so bad that you can't do any of the above then call the person that you love best and tell them you need help, not tomorrow, not on the weekend, not in the morning, now.
If this post was too boring and off topic for you then you, my friend, are the luckiest person alive. Regular services resume tomorrow. Right now I need to go and point some good vibes in the general direction of Gempires who is brave and strong and astonishing.
Final word. I am really happy, yes, really, no fooling, I am. This is thanks to winning the battles so consistently that I can store my battle helmet in the same cupboard as my lungeing whip.
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Rups: Mmmm herrings. I like a nice pickled herring on black bread myself. But it has to be proper black bread, none of this fake black 'rye' business. And yes, every bit no matter how mustardy helps.