depression, emotions

Bridges

Bridges are so ironic. They help to get people from here to there. They cover gaps in pathways. They open up to be more accessible. Bridges are so versatile in their builds.

But bridges also lead to death and destruction. Bridges do no discriminate. Mental health does not discriminate. When you jump off that bridge, the landing spot will not discriminate.

#hashtag #darkturn

How are we supposed to know when our friends or family are suicidal? Do they have a meter on their forehead that shows the level of shit they can no longer deal with? Do they start acting like the world is full of crap and nothing matters? Or do they just welcome what the bridge can bring them?

Suicide is a scary thought for those with normal brains. For others, it’s like breathing. It just happens on a regular basis. I do not really know what people expect from suicidal people though. Do you think they will hop on Facebook and say “Hey! Sunday Fun Day! I am going to jump off the bridge this afternoon, but does anyone want to grab brunch first?”

Death is bitch this way. Depression is a bitch this way. Life is a bitch this way.

#CheckOnYourFriends #MoreOften

*note: I am fine

depression, emotions

PhysicalPsychiatry

I have decided to invent a new type of therapy. Physical Psychiatry. I so often need to curl up in a ball and let the world move around me without me involved. But, what if I could go to a therapist and curl up into a physical ball and they massage my head and neck. And then they ease all of the muscles that are tightened up while telling me that I matter and I am a good person that adds to the best of humanity.

I need a therapist to acknowledge what I am going through as well as what I went through. But this is both a mental and physical issue. I am happy that someone solved my brain issues for a hot minute or my knots for a bit.

And hear me out here. What if someone could work the physical stress along with the mental stress? I need a therapist that can be the big spoon to my cuddles while dealing with my mental issues. Treat my mental and physical depression.

anxiety, depression, emotions

Fault

Yes. It’s my fault.

Does that give you cover? Does your conscience feel better? Are your loved ones relieved?

It is absolutely my fault that you did that shot. It is my fault that you had another drink, that, let’s be honest, you probably didn’t need. It’s my fault that you stayed out past 8pm. That wine tasting? Yep. My fault.

For most of my life, my name has been Aleczander Lourd Maverick and I have been the cause of your fun, your happiness, your regrets, your marital issues, your bathroom experiences. Yes. I am that Aleczander Lourd Maverick.

I am a god of mischief and drinking and sex in the bathroom and lost music and marital disputes and Stephen King. I am. Whatever you need to tell yourself, I am. Just know that as my friend, I support you. I love you. But I am not making your decisions.

My name is Aleczander Lourd Maverick and I approve this message.

depression, emotions

Teeth

I am generally not a vain person. I do not put much stock into what I wear or how my hair looks most of the time. And yet, my teeth have been a defining feature for my entire life.

Growing up, my teeth were bad. They were twisted and turned. They were wild. And because of that, I rarely smiled or laughed without covering my mouth.

Around ten years ago, I used the Invisalign service and straightened my teeth. It was like a new lease on life. I laughed so loud. I smiled so brightly. My mood changed and people noticed.

I am not just here for a history lesson. I am about to go through my terror of bath teeth again. For some ungodly reason, my body is eating one of my teeth. It seems to happen from time to time, like when mammals eat their newborn. And that tooth has to be removed.

So what, you say? Well, I can’t do anything after that tooth is removed for months. Months and months and months. For nearly six months I will have a tooth missing and I will be back in high school being made fun of and tortured. For nearly six months I will be ashamed to smile. I will be less likely to laugh.

I am not ready to go through this journey again.

depression, emotions, Song Lyrics

Unfriended

I am not a great friend to most people. I am A LOT. And I know that. I frequently cancel plans at the last minute. I struggle with committing to plans. I don’t reach out enough and I am not good at consoling or pampering others. I get it. Yet again, I’m unfriended.

It hurts when people unfriend me, but in a way similar to my knees hurting. I am so used to it, that it just feels normal.

I don’t want people to unfriend me, but I don’t expect them to put up with me either. I have great energy and limitless kindness, but I really am a lot. My depression takes me through dark tunnels and sunny days while rain comes up from the ground.

If you need constant attention, do not look to me. Well, unless you are a hot man that wants to be worshipped. :O

And just like that I am off on the sexual comments. See? A LOT.

As the great Cyndi Lauper crooned (obviously out of context):

Don’t call me in the middle of the night no more
I don’t want to be your friend
Don’t think that it will be the way it was before
I don’t want to be your friend…
Don’t expect me to be there
‘Cuz I don’t wanna be your friend

Cyndi Lauper – I don’t want to be your friend

depression, emotions, Song Lyrics

Flowers

Depression lies. That’s the truth.

I have a song stuck in my head. The song is Flowers by Miley Cyrus. I am not a huge fan of Miley Cyrus, but she puts out some hits that I love. This song is one of her best, and definitely one of her first “adult” hits. Her voice, her image… she has transformed like a butterfly. Hannah who?

People with depression go through periods where the don’t feel wanted or needed. They feel like they can’t love or be loved. This song shows us how to love ourselves again. The song shows us that we don’t need other people. We only need ourselves.

Flowers by Miley Cyrus:

I can buy myself flowers
Write my name in the sand
Talk to myself for hours
Say things you don’t understand
I can take myself dancing
And I can hold my own hand
Yeah, I can love me better than you can

Can love me better
I can love me better, baby
Can love me better
I can love me better, baby

Paint my nails, cherry red
Match the roses that you left
No remorse, no regret
I forgive every word you said

So buy yourself flowers and hold your own hand. Dance like the world isn’t watching and laugh at the ridiculous. You’ve got this. I have this.

depression, Song Lyrics

#Nine

It’s time for a flashback song.

I’ll kiss you!

The gypsy told me that the first thing
That would happen you get dizzy
Second thing you better make sure
That your boyfriend isn’t busy
Cause you won’t wanna eat
And you won’t wanna drink
You won’t wanna talk
And you won’t wanna think
My mother used to tell me not to
Kiss on this first date
This time when I see you, you
Know I ain’t gonna wait!
I’ll Kiss you
Gonna corner you and not let you go
I’ll Kiss you

depression

Depressionist

Depression is a dark and scary place. If you read my posts, you know that. Or you should. I often hear the phrase “if you need help, reach out”. I don’t want to laugh, but, well, here we are.

People that don’t have major depressive disorder just don’t understand it. They don’t understand the daily grind of my mind. Just like I don’t fully understand being diabetic or having fibromyalgia. It really is hard to understand things that are so far outside of “normal”.

Suicide is not a stranger for me. My first bout was in high school. People didn’t like me. I overhead my two best friends talking about how annoying I was and exhausting.

Later in life, it was drunken mistakes that left me humiliated. Did I really do that? Why would I do that/ I lost a close friend to that before I was even legally able to drink.

How do you tell someone that you are having suicidal thoughts? Like, yo, dude, my brain says we shouldn’t be here anymore. What are your thoughts on that? Or, yo, dudette, can you believe that I did that? My brain is ready to check out..

If I call you and say, I am struggling with suicidal thoughts… that permanently changes everything. Whether you want it to or not. So are you really there for anything?

When your depression is strong, you burn through friends quickly. They want to be there for you, but it is not easy. It’s not easy at all.

anxiety, depression, emotions, Sleep

Dreams

Dreams are very strange things. Most nights I do not remember anything. Sometimes I will have a vague recollection that fades over the first couple of morning hours. Lately, though, I have been having very vivid dreams two to three times a week that feel like memories. In some, I vividly remember sensations like flying or running or screaming. Almost like my body is remembering it. In others, the dream is a full on memory lodged in my head.

There are days that I think I would willing go into the Matrix if it meant I could control the dream and the reality. Like having sex with Jensen Ackles or Chris Evans on the monthly. Being able to travel the world and experience new things without my anxiety tripping me up. Having normal mental energy and extra spoons (see the spoon theory).

Outside of the Matrix scenario, I do feel like sleeping more. It’s harder to make myself get out of bed in the morning. I have started sleeping past 10am again. I have slept through my alarm a couple of times. I don’t know if it’s my depression creeping up on my rearview or if my mind just likes the dream world better. Because let me tell you, some of those vivid dreams that are locked in like memories are spicier than Chris Evans doing a screen record live on Instagram.

And with that, let’s get some music going.

“Sweet dreams are made of these…”

anxiety, depression

AvP

I really enjoyed the Alien vs Predator movies. I really enjoyed the new Predator movie “Prey” even more. But that is not what this is about. This is about me, obviously. Just in case you forgot.

Anxiety attacks and panic attacks are almost the same thing but they are very different. They have similar symptoms, but you shouldn’t confuse the two afflictions. I could describe the differences between the two, but then I would have to kill you.

(Do I need to add a sarcasm note here?)

I have been suffering from anxiety attacks all week. I don’t know why, so don’t ask what’s wrong. Nothing is wrong other than these stupid anxiety attacks. I used to think the difference between the two was external stimuli versus internal stimuli. Then I thought the difference was the intensity of the symptoms. Now… I have no idea.

So, here is where this non-doctor is going. For me, Panic attacks are short and bitter sweet, typically caused by an incident and soon forgotten. Anxiety attacks are my brain fucking with me from all angles on a slight and subtle level over hours.

I keep trying to figure out what is causing the anxiety attacks because everyone keeps asking me. Like, dude, what happened? (Don’t get me started on the people that confuse being anxious about something and having anxiety).

I don’t know what’s causing my anxiety. Maybe I need new meds. Maybe I need talk therapy again. Maybe I need another shot. Maybe I need to leave this apartment. Maybe I need to have sex with Paul Rudd. Who knows? Do you?