Living Loudly

I’m Not Okay (And That’s Okay)

I love the word epiphany. I like the way it rolls off my tongue and the way it sounds. Usually having an epiphany is a good one, but what if the epiphany isn’t so good? Over the last two days, I have felt my head go from one emotion or thought to another. Nothing subtle,. It was just as if I stepped on a land mind. Ka-fucking-boom. No reason. No nothing. Just one moment this. Blink. Inhale. Sneeze. Whatever. The moment is now that. It took walking around staring at art to make me realize (or have that epiphany) that those emotions, those thoughts were “the oncoming storm”.

In fact, “the on coming storm” had quietly arrived without it’s usual warning. It slipped in like a quiet fog and grew thicker in days, thinning out in others, seemingly disappearing on some days, but it was always there, lingering.

Waiting.

Fucking bastard.

What all the above means is that I realized I have spent August battling a bout of depression. It didn’t arrive like my typical bouts of depression. Those were ones I could see coming a mile way. Those I had time to prepare for. This time it just arrived disguised in a pretty sunny day of meh vs a dark cloud of bring me to the knees depression.

I think I prefer the latter. I’m familiar with it. It arrives. I cry. I stare at walls. I cry some more. I cuss. I silently scream because screaming out loud is usually frowned upon. I run. I eat crappy food. I drink. I watch tv. I cry even more. Depression and I have a nice (sarcasm there) blow out – get the fuck out of my life – I hate you – you suck – fight. It leaves. I go on with my life, stronger than I was before it arrived. Stronger because I survived.

This version.
Version, I don’t know what to call it. Depression 2.0 or depression light (which has been far from light) is like trying to herd cats. All over the place. Maybe I’ll call it Sneaky Depression because it did sneak up on me like a goddamn cat. (I HATE cats by the way.)

When I know I’m being irrational, illogical, stupid, etc, I call my brain “Crazy Brain”. At first, I thought “Crazy Brain” was in full moon effected gear. You may laugh, but I know my energy changes by the season, the weather, the sun, the rain, and even the moons. The 18th full moon was possibly one of the worst days of August. No one died. Nothing bad happened, but headspace…boy. Whew. What a mess. On my run, I cried. Not this run is hurting me cry. I gut wrenched, ugly faced, fucking cried. My head was silent as the tears that fell down my face, but boy did I cry. It was a first for me. Then as quickly as the tears started, they stopped. I finished my run like nothing happened and laid in the sun, absorbing it’s energy like a solar panel. (As much as I have love for Luna, the sun and I have a grand affair.) It was the first indication to me that something wasn’t quite right.

They make horror movies about people like this.
They make pyscho bitch movies about people like this.
Smiling. Stabby. Smiling. Angry. Smiling. Crying. Smiling. Setting a house on fire. Smiling.

That’s what I realized while I was staring at a piece of art.
First thoughts were actually
      -What the fuck?
      -This is just some 2×2’s (wood) and screws built over a patch of grass overlooking the water.
      -Who pays for this shit?
      -This is not art.
      -This is dead trees and metal.
      -Ugh.
Second thought
      – Why am I so judgmental at this piece of art?
Third thoughts were
      – I’m not okay.
      – I need a hug.
      – And knowing that I’m not okay is in fact okay.

Boom-shaka-laka.

Fuck you Sneaky Depression.
Get the fuck out. (Sooner than later please and thank you.)

Depression lies.
I might actually be okay but it’s telling me I’m not okay.

Yesterday, I was not okay, but you know what, I survived and that is in fact okay.
Today, I’m feeling okay.

Tomorrow is another day.
I might be okay.
I might stare at the ceiling and think nothing.
I might stare at the wall and cry.
Who knows?
I know for a fact my brain doesn’t know.
It’s fucked up.
It lies.
Some days, I lie and say I’m fine.
Some days, I tell the truth and say I’m fine.
Some days, I say nothing because that’s what I feel.
But every day, I’m grateful.
Grateful for the strength to watch the sun and moon rise.
Grateful for the depression because it makes me stronger.
Grateful for lies because I know the truth.
Grateful for the truth because it is my hope.
Grateful for the hope because it is my tether to the world.
Grateful for the world because despite what depression tells me or anyone, I am not alone, we are not alone.

And as NBC Saturday morning cartoons use to say…”knowing is half the battle”.