I have a problem; I enjoy podcasts. That in and of itself is not so much a problem, but the fact that I keep finding new ones and having to listen to back episodes, which puts my behind on newer episodes of my older podcasts. Which means that right now, I have so many un-listened to hours of podcasts left, that the apocalypse will occur and I’m not going to be aware because I will have headphones in, trying to hear the final 15 minutes of “Hello Internet” or “RadioLab.”
I’m not saying these are real problems, and somehow they seem incredibly small, but it is little annoyances like this that really et to you. Like having to take my car in for a Smog check, or that I have several (from what I’ve heard) excellent games on my computer that have yet to be played. It is those day to day things that get in the way, that distract you from what you really need to be doing.
Like right now. I should be reading a novel in preparation for a project. I should be preparing a writing challenge that starts next week and I should be drafting out next weeks post and I should be doing some preparation on the long form project. Instead, I’m sitting in a coffee shop drinking a dirty chai and writing a blog post about how hard it is to see past the little annoyances in life.
See what I mean?
Ideas are a tenuous thing. Sometimes they rush forward like a waterfall, crashing and colliding, changing shape and form until they are barely recognizable. Other times, they trickle like a muddy pond, stagnant and green. This last week has been one of those times.
My last post took a lot out of me. I worked hard at it, and poured a lot of myself into it. Possibly too much. I felt drained and tired and beat myself up for not being able to find an idea that moved me. And then this last weekend I had a bad four days and barely made it through work, let alone writing. I was an exposed nerve, raw and painful, and just not ready to open up.
This brings me to today, two full weeks since my last (real) post. I’m still not sure what to write about, but at least I feel like I can write.
I have so many unfinished ideas; rivers that have fallen to streams, to trickles, and then stopped. I have so many half-understood thoughts and stories inside that need to come out. And then I got the seed of an idea, just a seed. I feel that familiar little bundle of excitement in the pit of my stomach. And then the dam broke.
You guys might be in for quite a ride.
I wanted to make a quick note, and say thank you. Thank you to everyone that had a supportive comment. Everyone that shared my story. Everyone that shared a story. So many stories. I never imagined that, by sharing my experience, so many people would allow me to be privy to their lives. Many of them secrets that they had carried for years. Through messages, and text, and email.
I won’t talk about the stories I was told, but you should know this: we are not alone. None of us are alone in this. We believe the lies that Depression tells us, that we are alone and that no one cares. That we are a burden to others, that we don’t deserve the love that others offer. We talk ourselves out of hope and joy. We are not alone.
So, I encourage all of you to reach out. See a doctor, tell a friend, find a support group. Do something. And don’t believe the lies.
You are not alone.
Ps- a couple links you might find helpful:
- National Sicide Prevention Lifeline 1(800)273-8255 Website
These two cartoons by Hyperbole and a Half really help to explain to others how it can feel: