Racial Genocide

What I am about to write is going to sound outlandish and generally uncharacteristic of this blog, but it is information that needs to be shared.

There is a genocide going on in the United States and around the world that has nothing to do with guns, knives or nuclear weapons.

It is a genocide conducted by the use of science and it has been going on for decades. It is a silent killer and therefore all the more sinister.

Now, I am all for the advancement of science, but when the wonderful discoveries and inventions of science begin to be used to cross clear ethical and moral boundaries, some questions need to be asked. Some people need to be put in jail even. Unfortunately, the hands that have weaponized science are the hands of the government, so of course Big Brother is hesitant to imprison one of it’s own limbs. It has chosen to turn a blind eye to the injustices happening on the daily basis.

It is the job of regular little civilians like me to encourage the exposure of criminal activity when it is brought to our attention. Thankfully, there are a handful of people who have access to proof of this shocking information that still have their feet firmly planted in morality, and have shared this knowledge so that we can educate ourselves about the covert operations at work among us.

The government is allowing certain racial groups to be targeted for sterilization, medical cannibalism, and poisoning. In fact, it can be said they are doing more than just allowing it to be done, but are actually establishing these aims themselves. As outrageous as this may sound, they are effectively accomplishing it through things we encounter in our daily lives; they utilize areas such as our food supply, our water supply, and our medical care. 

I urge you,

please take the time to watch this video that gives you an in depth look on the horrific things that are happening both within the United States and without. Do not allow large organizations like The Center for Disease Control (CDC) to poison you and your children without batting an eyelid. Protect yourself by learning the truth, and hopefully sharing it with other people.

Knowledge is power, friends.

Click the YouTube link below:

Exposing Racial Genocide

 

~LDA

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Cavern Hunting with Pandora

It’s strange. I find that often if I’m quiet enough, and I listen hard enough, there are still echoes of a cavern in my soul. Of dank, cold water that soundlessly seeps into every crevice.

If you were to ask me if I was okay I would undoubtedly say yes. Because I am, and I’m doing so much better than before. But at the same time I am very much aware that there is a darkness that is yet to be lifted.

I sometimes describe myself as slightly suicidal which sounds like an insult to people on the brink of suicide. It seems like a dichotomy. You can’t be in that kind of a headspace only slightly, you’re probably thinking. It’s something that overtakes you completely.

And you’re right.

But you’re also wrong.

I’m at a place where most of the time I’m fine, happy even. The term mildly depressed no longer fits. I feel somewhat back to an equilibrium. And yet, I know I’m not one hundred percent. Like there may be demons I haven’t wrestled yet. Or worse, like because I’ve visited such dark places, I’ll never be able to fully leave them behind in my memories. Like there’s a Pandora’s box that has been opened and the potential for even denser darkness in the midst of light has been unleashed. I sense there is a kinetic reality whispering around the edges of my consciousness.

I fight these fears with, of all the lame techniques I could’ve chosen, positive thinking. Or better stated, no thinking. Distracted thinking. Since the path to the caverns are familiar, I can notice that I’m heading there more quickly and reroute myself, whether it’s with a trivial thought or an important one.

But I guess I worry that if I use this technique too often I might miss a battle that’s better to be had now rather than later. I’ve dealt with a lot of my issues in the last few years and am still dealing with them. It’s part of what contributed to getting to know my dark spaces so up close and personal. I decided it was time to climb out of the cavern, and when I was going to therapy my therapist seemed very intent on helping me put those thoughts and feelings into perspective. My emotions are valid, but they’re not as all encompassing and overwhelming as they feel. Don’t give them more importance than they deserve. If a thought’s not constructive throw it out. Simple as that. 

Only problem is sometimes it’s hard to tell the genuinely destructive ones from the ones that sting, but are building my character.

There are important things I’ve learned about managing my emotions and I know I can still continue to use them while working on my flaws, but I also can’t help wondering what secret things have slinked out of Pandora’s box that I’ve yet to have noticed. It’s hard learning how to exist in this new version of myself when I don’t actually know all my parts. Meanwhile, other parts I can’t forget and they contribute to my tendency to go cavern hunting. Unfortunately, being honest with myself includes admitting that part of me still savors the option of flicking to OFF, on account of all the beasties lurking in the dark.

Good thing hope is a flame and not an off switch.

~LDA

Fertile Dream Ingredients

I had some weird dreams last night. I had just finished watching the movie Her (about a guy who falls in love with an operating system) and one of my acquaintances texted me to let me know one of the kids I take care of in Sunday School drowned in a pool right before I went to sleep.

Those were pretty fertile ingredients for a night of my subconscious growing some weird dream trees.

First I dreamt that my coworker was accusing me of something that had to do with being insensitive to her work environment. That I was ruining the efficiency of our school’s teamwork because I was being callous on purpose or something of the like. It was so vivid when I had the dream, but it ebbs as I try to write it down. At first I was confused at the accusation, frustrated because she wouldn’t listen. Then I was simultaneously furious and aggrieved because she continued to accuse me in a public setting, making me out to be some kind of monster. I actually woke up crying out of frustration. It’s weird how the volume on emotions can get turned way up while in a dreamscape. What’s funny is, my butt is so dang stubborn that I dove back into the dream so I could continue arguing my case, even though at that point it was pretty much a lucid. I had a sense that what was going on wasn’t real, but it mattered to me anyway. She made some argument about how this area of my work would trickle down to affect the students negatively, which made me question myself because I’d always told myself I’d quit if that happened. My mental health and/or inability to interact with people in a healthy way starting to affect my students negatively is where I draw the line in continuing to work in the public school system. I’d go off and do some other job that doesn’t require so much human interaction.

What else is funny is that I’m pretty sure the accusation she was throwing at me was unbelievably silly in reality. I think I kept forgetting to say good morning to her or forgetting to return her stapler, and she was making the argument that this made her so sad it impaired her ability to work or something. As silly as the whole premise of the dream was, it made me realize I still hold self doubt about being able to teach to the whole child. As in, taking socio-emotional skills that I’m supposed to pass on to them into consideration. Educating children to be academically successful is really only half the job of being a teacher. Teaching them those other human skills is really important too. Their young brains are absorbing a sense of how to exist in the world at a rapid rate, and if you’re not careful they’ll subconsciously absorb a lot of preconceived notions, prejudices, and bad habits of handling situations.

I don’t think I’m socio-emotionally deficient enough to be unable to pass on basic skills to my students. That would be really dramatic. I’m pretty functional. But I think I harbor fear for my personal children, who I’m going to have to relate in a lot closer of a capacity, whenever I choose to adopt some.

The second dream I had was about school too. It was short and I don’t quite remember it, but it ended with an epiphany that was loud and clear. They say the brain is very active conducting problem solving during the night and that this is part of the reason why we have dreams, but I’ve hardly ever gotten this kind of clarity upon waking. I think most of it is usually subconscious.

In essence, I realized that even though I have absolutely zero interest in climbing the educational ladder into a leadership position, like say administration, I still have to push myself to be involved with things at a higher level than just my classroom. In the dream a retired teacher told me, “I taught for a lot of years and I got my pension, but I never really felt like I accomplished anything when it came to changing the system,” and that’s something I’m really concerned about.

Honestly, most of the time it annoys the crap out of me that I want to “make a difference.” Number one, how corny is that? But number two, that means I still have to give a crap about making sure I keep moving forward in life. Whatever direction forward is supposed to be.

Giving a crap takes a lot of energy.

I sometimes wish I just didn’t so I could sleepwalk my way through life. But fortunately or unfortunately,

I’m awake.

And alive.

Which are two different things by the way. A lot of people are not the former, and even more can’t say they are the latter either. Which is sobering. I think death is as sobering as it is sad. It’s crazy that the child I used to take care of is suddenly no longer there to be affected by me, if ever I am to grow into the type of person worth being affected by. The real can be quite surreal.

~LDA

Happy Imbecile

I hold the belief that it is generally very bad to be a willful idiot.

Ignorance is toxic, and so to choose to stay ignorant is the epitome of human irresponsibility. As bad as pulling the trigger on another person, ignorance kills. Psychologically, spiritually and physically. It is deadly to one’s self and to others.

But laying ignorance aside, I also believe that it is sometimes good to be an idiot. There are types of idiocy that do no harm to others.  That are healthy for the soul. One such idiocy is the way we act with children.

Whether you’re a normal person or a humanoid tasked with the cruel mission of pretending to know how to do this whole human emotions thing like me, children (more specifically babies), usually elicit pretty strong reactions from people. You either are made super uncomfortable by them and want to stay as far away as possible from their drooling, babbling existences. Or, you are reduced to a cooing mess of squealing glee.

Surprisingly, I fall into the latter category.

Or maybe not so surprisingly. I’m a teacher by trade so obviously I have an affinity for children, but I don’t think my general temperament suggests as much.

I adore babies. 

Every time I come into contact with one, I am made more aware of that fact. It’s funny how much different I react to these humans, simply by virtue of them being smaller and more innocent. Their cluelessness rings of lack of life experience rather than willful ignorance or carelessness. For example,

inability to say my name because you lack knowledge of phonemes? Cute.

forgetting my name after the millionth time I’ve told you? Annoying.

inability to sit up on your own because your limbs are just so darn chubby and you lack balance? Precious.

sitting in a way that takes up a bunch of space even though there are clearly people in need of a place to sit? Rude.

Babies can get away with things that older humans just can’t. If a grown man threw up on me I’d probably punch them in the face. But when a baby does it, “Aw, it’s alright. The poor thing has indigestion.” I mean, even saliva, one of the most disgusting and bacteria-ridden substances in the human body, rendered endearing when it’s from a baby. Even a germophobe like me finds a way to rationalize my way out of it in the most irrational way possible. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s from a baby. Even though it’s seeped its way into most of my clothes and probably 70% of my hands’ surface area, I’m still clean. Babies don’t have germs.”

They’re manipulative sons of guns without even trying. 

“What’s that? You want to ruin my night of sleep in intervals of one hour because I don’t even know what since you have a clean diaper, I fed you one second ago, you’re not sick, and have a comfortable place to sleep? But yes, of course I’ll giggle with you in the morning when you smile after letting out a toot. Your body proportions are comedically stunted and you have that adorable fresh pampers smell.” 

If I think too hard on the things I get excited about when babies are around I want to get my head checked. For who else could I clap my hands and squawk in delight for recognizing that moving the left foot forward, must be what comes after moving the right one in order to travel across space?

It’s ridiculous. But they get me to do it.

I turn into a joyous buffoon every single time. And I thank them for it. It’s the kind of nonsensical idiocy I devolve into that makes the world seem a little brighter and a little less serious. Babies remind us that we were all blubbering morons at one point in time and the only real difference is that we’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we know more because we can chew food all by ourselves and stick our special parts into other people’s special places. Babies give us a chance to cheer ourselves on without knowing it’s us we’re cheering for. 

~LDA

Secret Destruction

Dreams can reveal a lot about you to yourself. I dreamt a while ago that some guy who used to be interested in me years ago came back “seeking my hand.” Like legitimate, “I asked your father for permission” style courting. That freaked me out a little. I hid for a while, deciding whether or not I wanted to entertain him. Like, actually hid in some corner of the house. I know, I’m so mature. Eventually I decided I did. Want to entertain him, that is.

Interestingly enough, it was only when he began to pull away, giving signals he was about to leave that I overcame my hesitiation. When we came face to face with each other we completely skipped any long time no see formalities. I basically pulled him into some alcove and dared him to make a move.

As I did it though, I realized what little intention I had in pursuing the relationship seriously, but I continued anyway. When I woke up, half of me was laughing at how kinky I had been, but half of me was appalled I would play with someone like that. He was clearly pursuing me as something serious, but I did it anyway. In that way I was intentionally hurting him.

Even though I’ve never actually done something like this in real life, when I woke up, the guilt was real. I mean, dang. What a savage, heartless move. If I’m being honest, such cruel things have flashed across my imagination during dark, lonely stretches, but I always drew the line at actually doing them. And reprimanded myself, warning to keep myself in check, because I think I see through people well enough to conduct such malicious endeavors of manipulation with ease if I really wanted to. I’ve always believed that you never truly know yourself and the lengths you’ll go to for comfort and relief of pain. For this reason, it’s when you get too comfortable in your inner good and ability to read yourself that you can find yourself doing crazy, destructive things.

I’ve always been extremely careful not to do anything like that in my waking life. I have kept people at bay for long periods of time simply because I was not sure of my true motives, or whether or not I would be able to fulfill them, even if they were good ones. As much of a virtue as that may sound, it has proven to be as destructive as it has been protective.

For the most part, I can assume I’ve hurt less people, but I’ve also deeply hurt people who are extremely important to me. Because they don’t know what on Earth my walls are for or why they haven’t been able to break through them yet, it can become pretty wearying and even insulting for them to see me still at a distance.

So I’ve learned it’s very important to strike a balance between monitoring your intentions and giving yourself room to connect with people. Which sounds so much easier than it actually is.

As you may know by now,

I overthink everything.

So zen equilibrium is hard to come by for me.

 

I’ll just have to keep trying.

 

~LDA

High-Functioning Hopeless

I have often considered what the cause of this all encompassing sense of hopelessness that sometimes overtakes me is.  It doesn’t feel like a chemical imbalance.  Especially in the way that I am able to continue through my days.  At worst, it only threatens to cripple my motivation enough to interrupt my daily life, but it almost never does.  I am quite functional.  In fact, I would even go as far at to state that I am happy.  Or at least I should be.  The state of my life in all arenas (work, family, play, etc.) is very satisfactory. There is nothing I can point to as saying is wrong.  There are things that I am working on, relationships, but that’s normal.  Although I use it because it is the closest I can come to explaining my current condition, I have difficulty describing myself as “mildly depressed,” because even the term itself is a contradiction.

How can one be,

oh,

just slightly despondent?

It doesn’t really make sense.  But at the same time I know I should at least describe things as being wrong.  There is a very notable sense of melancholy that presents itself often enough to be a red flag. Call it high functioning depression, I suppose. 

A low volume siren that warns “Wee-oo, wee-oo.  Normal people don’t fantasize about their life ending.  Even if it’s mostly in a “whoops, that’s just the way it worked out, whoopee, kind of way.”

I’ve gotten better in the last few months.  There has been a notable lessening in the frequency of these thoughts, partially due to therapy sans meds.  But I can’t say I’ve fully shaken this pall over my existence.

I’ve been thinking.

I know, I know.  What’s knew?  But hear me out.

Part of my therapy sessions used to constitute accepting the causeless nature of such a dip in life motivation.  And I understand why she chose to sharpen that ability of mine.  It brings a certain measure of peace without closure, but at the same time, I haven’t fully accepted this approach.

Lately, it’s really been smacking me in the face how unequal our society is.  And when I say our society, I mean our global community in general.  Our approach to things is crazy stupid.  It’s stupid that millions of people are still in danger of starving and dying from unclean water.  It’s stupid that wars are still happening, because seriously for what?  Nothing is worth the atrocities that happen during wartime.  Why haven’t we woken up enough to not be so confounded selfish?  Even the few just wars that are being fought, I wish there wasn’t a need for them.  That whatever skirmish that happened between nations over land, money or religion would dissolve.  Can’t we all just shake hands and let bygones be bygones?  Compromise is not so hard if we would just learn to forgive and let go of desires that can’t (or shouldn’t) be met.  It’s also stupid that people don’t have enough access to or freedom from discrimination to get the mental health services they need in order to not feel like they have to go shoot up a school or bully someone else into committing suicide themselves.

There’s so many more things that are unbelievably stupid that we should’ve already gotten over.  The list goes on.  But what’s most frustrating is that it’s not like the solutions to them are rocket science. They could hypothetically be very successfully executed.  It’s simply the unwillingness of man to come together and compromise that keeps it from happening.  One person over there who wants to keep their power, a few over there who want to keep their money.  All it takes is a small group of people with enough power who want to keep others less than for the whole panacea to disintegrate. The hope of world peace falls apart every time,

because the sad reality is,

there will always be people who are too afraid of losing their positions of security to give selflessness a try,

so we will always be broken.

The world will always be broken.  We’re too busy tearing each other apart or pretending the carnage isn’t happening to reach any compromise.

It makes me feel sick, because it feels like no matter how hard I try to spread a little love and light through my life’s actions, it will never be enough.  I’m fighting a losing battle, at least in this life, and that is just a tad discouraging to face on the daily basis.

I’m thinking maybe that’s part of why I’ve been feeling the way I have. This sense of hopelessness has gripped me, that I’ll never get it right enough to really fix anything.  Sure, I can make a difference in the lives of my students, my family, and my friends.  But there will always be someone gasping for air across the planet, the country, or even my neighborhood that I will not be able to reach.  The constant cycle of losing people is depressing, in the most non-overused sense of the word.  Everyone is worth love and attention and being saved, but I have to face this reality that countless souls are being lost anyway. It’s enough to take a person out, to convince them to stop trying since they matter so little in the grand scheme of the universe anyway. Even though mentally I know that’s a stupid choice.

It’s better to do something than nothing at all.

It’s just hard to motivate yourself when you’re hardly a blip on the cosmic radar.  Maybe one day I’ll make peace with the fact that every breath I take is very-almost an exercise in futility.

The key word is “almost,” I guess.

 

~LDA

Dewy Letters: A Poem on Optimism

He chuckled

Dewy letters trickling

Out of his mouth 

All hopeful proposals

And bouncy grins

 

Unfortunately

 

They froze before they hit the ground

Solidified by the critical stares

Of his eye cocking recipients

 

They shattered  

Launching splinters of

T’s

                                       H’s

                                                                          and W’s

                                                                                                     Into his innocent eyes

 

“I think

I hope

I wish“

 

His soul convulsed as they made

Impact with the unforgiving concrete

 

One shard of expression

Found its way

Directly into the darkness

Of the pupil

 

And maneuvered a path

Into his veins

Sending fatalism and apathy

Seeping into his bloodstream

 

The virus of death had been triggered

Awakened was the dormant code

Seemingly

Powerless until acknowledged

 

All at once

His chest became cold

And his mouth downturned

 

One eyebrow twitched upward

And his feet made a pivot

 

The assembly line shifted forward

And he thought to himself

“Who is this grinning fool standing in front of me?”

 

 

~LDA

Music Vibes

It’s powerful the amount of emotional attachment we can derive from or infuse into music. Usually we focus on what we take away from music, but I think it’s interesting what we pump into it as well.  It makes me sad when music that I once listened to in order to get me out of a sad funk ends up reminding me of unhappy times later on.

The music retains the memory of the dark cloud that was suffocating my consciousness when I last listened to it and now forever carries with it sad overtones.

I am trying to reverse some of that.

Rewrite it.

Partially because I’ve been in such a funk for such a long time that this symptom has oozed into too much of music library. Partially because it’s cool to experiment with how much power you wield over your mind.  

I’m not just talking about listening to sad music when you’re sad, mind you.  Most people tend gravitate toward bluer vocals when they’re in a blue mood and then that particular music might remind you a specific sad moment in your life later on.  But I’m talking about the opposite too.  Sometimes you listen to upbeat music to try to lift yourself out of your emotional muck and it works.  Or sort of works.  In reality you’re suppressing negative feelings with a temporary fog of lightheartedness and the dark is lurking not far beneath.  But it’s still nice to feel okay for a while.  

Of course, then a once happy tune later carries with it memories of the dark you tried to chase away, if the dark was grim enough.

If I listen to a song now which once used to invariably pull me out of an agonized self, will I be able to attach happier connotations to its notes if I am happier now?  Or will it only bring me down?  How many listens in a happy mode would it take to turn that trend around?

I am still finding out.  Wish me luck.  

~LDA

And How Does That Make You Feel?…

It’s a weird situation shaking hands with someone for the first time and then immediately vomiting every bit of knowledge of what’s wrong with yourself at them.  Seeking psychotherapy is like some weird reverse dating situation.  You know how when most people date, they try their best to hide all their annoying quirks and glaring issues at the beginning, in the hopes that the gradual release method will soften the blow and succeed in convincing some sucker to spend the rest of their lives with them?  Well, therapy is the opposite in the sense that you purposely expose all your flaws since you’re not worried about scaring away or losing the person.

You’ve gone out of your way to pay someone not to run away when they find out what a monster you are.  They’ve even got a master’s or doctorate degree on their wall that says they won’t lose their poker face and make you feel like an irredeemable mess, no matter how many steaming piles have hit your psychological fan.  It’s an interesting dynamic.   

“Hi, my name is Lady. I’m slightly suicidal and prone to flights of delusionality that I like to write down and call fiction. Can you help me be a tad more functional in society without yanking out all my word-spewing bits? Thanks.”

I have to admit, when I made the decision to seek professional help several months ago, a little part of me expected to walk out of that room with a brand that read “crazy” on my forehead. Not that I’m opposed to therapy. I mean, heck, I wanted to be a psychologist at one point, so I hate the stigma that’s attached to receiving psychological/psychiatric treatment. If it’s publicly acceptable to heal our bodies, why isn’t it publicly acceptable to heal our minds?  But in all honesty, a part of me was still laughing at myself for having reached the point I had to walk into some room and talk to a stranger for an allotted amount of time, just because I couldn’t handle the weight of my issues on my own.  

It takes guts to admit that to yourself.  In an ideal world, everyone would have close enough friends and family members to talk to on the regular basis and not need a stranger to talk to.  In an ideal world, I would just have a stable enough head on my shoulders in the first place.  But this is not an ideal world, and speaking to a loved one is not quite the same as talking to a qualified professional.  So to a therapist I went.  

I ended up seeing my therapist roughly once a week for two months and it was a great experience.  Not in the sense that I walked out of there a renewed and completely whole person, entirely devoid of the thoughts that had plagued me before, but it helped.  It definitely helped.  I felt and still feel somewhat rejuvenated as a result of having a better grasp on myself.  This more intimate knowing of yourself, or just assurance that you’re not completely nuts, inevitably translates into having a better grasp on life in general.    

Therapy is not just some silly thing people who have a lot of money and time on their hands choose to engage in so that a person can ask them how they feel constantly.  It can sincerely be a big help and you might be surprised at how accessible a therapist may be to you, even if you don’t have insurance.  There are such things as free clinics and there might be one near enough you if you do some digging.  Another alternative is online counseling which tends to be more affordable or using the variety of free phone mental health services.  

Don’t ever let the stigma of getting psychological assistance get in the way of you receiving the help you need.  It’s not something to be ashamed of.  In fact, there are plenty of people who say they’re fine, but could use psychological attention and are much worse for the wear.  Don’t be those silly people.  Throw away your ego if you have to so you can get a better quality of life.  Seriously, which is better?  Some ridiculous sap who has his thumbs up but is dying on the inside, or a person whose insides match their outsides, even if that does mean grinning a little less because at the moment you’re not particularly happy.  At times, even people who have a stable support system can use a stranger to whisper all their dark, secret thoughts to.  

Sometimes, you grow so tired of ignoring your problems or questioning yourself about how you’re doing, that you just need someone else to do it for you for a while.  

And that’s okay.  

~LDA

Building Walls

I’ve been battling with mild depression for a while. Mild, because I’m still functional and able to hide it. I find one of the toughest parts is making sure I keep a balanced life. Little things like getting up early, vitamin supplements, exercise and staying on top of work & hobbies become paramount to my ability to keep it together. A declaration that if I am able to manage the little things in my life that add up to big things, then I can certainly handle the huge demons lurking in the back (and sometimes the front) of my psyche, that in the end really add up to little things.

Depression, or at least my experience with it (after all, everyone’s mental health journey is as different as our fingerprints), can blow things massively out of proportion. There are many times I’m left grappling with this giant weight that becomes so suffocating I feel I might be better off offed. It becomes such a burden to even deal with the mental/emotional/spiritual turmoil that often stems from nowhere in particular, that I’d rather not deal with myself.

But of course,

I have to deal with myself.

I’m the only one who can take up the task to do so.

I can not escape myself.

Or at least not without going to some very dark places.

And this is the part where I start to feel guilty because it’s against my code of ethics to travel to such dark places. I hold the belief that I do not fully belong to myself. That the only life worth living is one where you live your life in service of others. (Which is completely different, mind you, than living your life for others, as in trying to be a people-pleaser.) You will never find true happiness wrapped up in the pursuit of yourself. Loving others, even those you don’t know, by showing that you care, is the root of fulfillment. Of course, if I’m all stuck in my head traveling to dark places or entertaining the thought of really going to even darker ones, then I can’t live the life I was meant to live.

When you feel like I have lately, you get in the habit of building walls to block out the noise of your chaotic brain. The static can get to be too much so it’s important to hone this coping mechanism in order to keep from losing it completely. The ability to quiet the unproductive negative hum that threatens to drown out all desire to accomplish anything in life is vital, but I find that the most damaging thing I end up doing is blocking out the important along with the static. Things like family, friends, hobbies, and passionate pursuits. This of course only digs you into a deeper hole. You have to be careful, otherwise if you ever even crawl out of The Pits, there will be no one left to come back to and you’ll end up having to do a lot of damage control.

Honestly, the most difficult part of dealing with depression is trying to keep myself from the counterproductive construction of walls that separate me from the people around me. The actual temptation of silencing all static once and for all is not painful. It can actually bring forth a sort of catharsis that is very dangerous when fully fleshed. The static has a way of turning into seductive melodies that enchant and cajole when left unchecked. While it’s difficult to climb out of that hole, there’s a sick part of me that enjoys the darkness, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard to fully remove myself from the slump I’m in . Some selfish part of me doesn’t really want to succeed and have to continue fighting my way through life. It wants to let myself be taken down this road of destruction. The key to not actually hitting the self destruct button is keeping an eye on all the walls I’m building, and that’s the difficult part.

It’s easy to alienate people when you don’t even want to keep yourself company, never mind other people. It can start to feel like it’s some big production to be around people since if you acted how you truly felt, they’d either be concerned or walk away because it’s not fun to have you around anymore. Sulking and simmering in solitude starts to wax real attractive.

“Why deal with people anyway? I hate people,” is a common excuse I mumble to myself.

But the truth is I don’t really hate people. I hate the shady, shallow things they often do which make me want to give up on the human race sometimes. But I don’t really hate people, at least not when I’m examining and interacting with them on an individual basis. I can see the sad and stupid reasons for why they do the things they do and empathize with them most days.

The trouble is when you have no empathy left for yourself and the unreasonably gloomy way you’re feeling, that means no empathy left for anyone else either. The thing is, if you surround yourself with the right people, none of this should matter. You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide your dark side from people who truly care about you. They will understand that you are not at your best and give you the support you need in the meantime. It’s important not to weed everyone out as an unsympathetic other. The walls we build must be to deflect static and toxic people only.

Otherwise, when the coast is finally clear to knock most of those walls down, and your face muscles remember how to execute an upward turn at long last, there will be no one left standing on the other side of them to smile at.

~LDA

If you or someone you love is dealing with thoughts of suicide please don’t hesitate to reach out to resources such as:

U.S. National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

United Kingdom Hotline: 08457909090

Canada: 5147234000

Australia: 131114

South Africa: 0514445691

International Online Help: http://www.suicidestop.com/suicide_prevention_chat_online.html

Even if you feel like you already pushed away all the close people in your life (or that they’ve pushed you away), there is always someone willing to help pull you out of that pit you might be in. There’s always hope of reconnection with people, as long as you give yourself a chance to have a future.