Every single year (except for last year, which I think we can all agree was just a little bit weird -- although, at the time, it seemed to be weird in a good way), I write my dad a letter for my birthday.
It makes sense in my head, okay?
This year, for the first time in a good long while, the bittersweet exercise is going to be quite a bit less "bitter" and quite a lot more "sweet."
I have this image in my head of him giving me an empty box with a note that says:
Hey, Bud --
24, wow. That makes your mom and me pretty much decrepit! Please be sure to find her a nursing home with a decent cafeteria when the time comes, probably tomorrow.
I couldn't decide what to get you (nothing seemed just right), so I figured I'd just remind you of something yet again because, even though you've finally figured it out, I know it's something you still need to hear occasionally:
IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT.
I hope it fits.
Love,
-- Dad
P.S. Enjoy the empty box, sucker!
That's my dad.
I love him.
Showing posts with label kick the bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kick the bitch. Show all posts
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
I Have No Memory of Writing This
[Writing stuff like this was a big part of how I managed to get through therapy.]
1. It wasn't my fault.
2. I'm a little bit psychic.
2a. Which is nice, since I no longer feel any sort of pressing need to prove it when I'm right about something and someone else, well, doesn't see it that way.
3. One simple conversation is going to change my life drastically. For the better, although it will probably hurt at the time.
4. Pain is part of life, and it's perfectly natural . . . but love is stronger: The love I feel for others, the love others feel for me, and the love I feel for myself.
5. Yes, I said the love I feel for myself. Because, dammit, I am awesome. I've spent way too much time (sixteen years) not believing that; to quote Relient K, though, "to go back to where I was would just be wrong."
[At the top of the page, I had written REINS RINSE RESIN RISEN SIREN -- they're all spelled with the same letters arranged in different ways!]
1. It wasn't my fault.
2. I'm a little bit psychic.
2a. Which is nice, since I no longer feel any sort of pressing need to prove it when I'm right about something and someone else, well, doesn't see it that way.
3. One simple conversation is going to change my life drastically. For the better, although it will probably hurt at the time.
4. Pain is part of life, and it's perfectly natural . . . but love is stronger: The love I feel for others, the love others feel for me, and the love I feel for myself.
5. Yes, I said the love I feel for myself. Because, dammit, I am awesome. I've spent way too much time (sixteen years) not believing that; to quote Relient K, though, "to go back to where I was would just be wrong."
[At the top of the page, I had written REINS RINSE RESIN RISEN SIREN -- they're all spelled with the same letters arranged in different ways!]
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Ryan's Rules to Live By
[Note: These are, specifically, Ryan's rules to live by -- if you're anyone else, your results may and probably will vary.]
1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.
2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."
3. When in doubt, wear black.
4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
4a. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY.
4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.
5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.
6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.
7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.
8. Never go anywhere without your camera.
9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.
10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.
11. You're stronger than you think.
12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.
13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.
14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.
15. Depression thinks you're fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.
17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.
18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.
19. Dare to hope.
1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.
2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."
3. When in doubt, wear black.
4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
4a. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY.
4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.
5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.
6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.
7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.
8. Never go anywhere without your camera.
9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.
10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.
11. You're stronger than you think.
12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.
13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.
14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.
15. Depression thinks you're fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.
17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.
18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.
19. Dare to hope.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Spiffy Philosophy
. . . Which reminds me of two quotes from WINTERGIRLS:
"When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.
"But it's a lie."
"The nasty voices are always on call, eager to pull me back down
::Stupid/ugly/stupid/bitch/stupid/fat/
stupid/baby/stupid/loser/stupid/lost::
but I do not let them."
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Magic Incantations
"Adrenaline kicks in when you're starving. That's what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don't notice Cassie.
"Then suddenly it's morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again."
- Laurie Halse Anderson,
Wintergirls
NO. No no no no no! I was never this bad, but I came ever so close to beginning to get this bad. I got so good at not eating for days at a time, and weighing myself constantly, and feeling bad for wanting a veggie burger,* because Depression thinks I'm fat.
How did that even happen?
No, stupid question. Meaningless.
The important thing is that I have taught myself how to kick his ass, and I am strong enough to continue kicking his ass for the rest of my life (and maybe even teaching other people how to kick his ass -- 'cause he's a fuckface who'd kill us all if he could, slowly).
The important thing is that I, Ryan Timothy Bish, do not even recognize the person I used to be when he was in control. I am funny, I am brave, I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am fucking fearless, I am insightful, I am the best big brother Cara or Abigail could ever hope for, I am the little brother Kiki chose as her own even though she already has one, I am confident, I am strong, I am so perceptive I can pretty much see the future, I am a stubbornly loyal friend, I am a total nerd and that is charming, I miss Dad but I'm not stuck in the past, I wish Mom acted like more of a friend but I'm not mad at her (okay . . . not constantly), I know what I want and I'm not afraid to let myself have it, I know what I want and I'm not afraid of not getting it, I read all the time, I pray even though I'm not sure who's listening and rather suspect I'm just talking to myself, I can't sing but that's not stopping me, I lost everything but I'm putting my life back together and it's the most personally enriching thing I've ever done, and he will never have any power over me ever again.
Because I won't give him any.
The power is ALL mine now, and literally anything is possible. Even if I don't actively try to make it happen, awesome stuff just can't stop happening to me.
Who knows what I'll do next?
P.S. Cassie is a ghost. If you want to know what happens to Lia (the narrator), I highly recommend picking up the book. But be careful. The author wrote it "because of the countless readers who wrote and talked to me about their struggles with eating disorders, cutting, and feeling lost." She did a supremely good job (although, um, OF COURSE SHE DID -- this is Laurie Halse Anderson we're talking about), so, even if reading a book about those subjects won't be a trigger for you, it is very . . . heavy. I've read it twice before; even though I know how everything is eventually going to play out, it is extremely difficult to read. Even more difficult than Speak. And that's saying something.
*Yes, I seriously have a "food journal" from November of 2009 where I regularly got mad at myself for wanting and then having a veggie burger. With soy cheese. I wish I were making this up as a really sick joke. But not so much.
I still have it, by the way. No one is allowed to read it, but I keep it to remind myself just how much Depression had encroached his way into every facet of my life -- and to remind myself of just how far I've come.
"Then suddenly it's morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again."
- Laurie Halse Anderson,
Wintergirls
NO. No no no no no! I was never this bad, but I came ever so close to beginning to get this bad. I got so good at not eating for days at a time, and weighing myself constantly, and feeling bad for wanting a veggie burger,* because Depression thinks I'm fat.
How did that even happen?
No, stupid question. Meaningless.
The important thing is that I have taught myself how to kick his ass, and I am strong enough to continue kicking his ass for the rest of my life (and maybe even teaching other people how to kick his ass -- 'cause he's a fuckface who'd kill us all if he could, slowly).
The important thing is that I, Ryan Timothy Bish, do not even recognize the person I used to be when he was in control. I am funny, I am brave, I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am fucking fearless, I am insightful, I am the best big brother Cara or Abigail could ever hope for, I am the little brother Kiki chose as her own even though she already has one, I am confident, I am strong, I am so perceptive I can pretty much see the future, I am a stubbornly loyal friend, I am a total nerd and that is charming, I miss Dad but I'm not stuck in the past, I wish Mom acted like more of a friend but I'm not mad at her (okay . . . not constantly), I know what I want and I'm not afraid to let myself have it, I know what I want and I'm not afraid of not getting it, I read all the time, I pray even though I'm not sure who's listening and rather suspect I'm just talking to myself, I can't sing but that's not stopping me, I lost everything but I'm putting my life back together and it's the most personally enriching thing I've ever done, and he will never have any power over me ever again.
Because I won't give him any.
The power is ALL mine now, and literally anything is possible. Even if I don't actively try to make it happen, awesome stuff just can't stop happening to me.
Who knows what I'll do next?
P.S. Cassie is a ghost. If you want to know what happens to Lia (the narrator), I highly recommend picking up the book. But be careful. The author wrote it "because of the countless readers who wrote and talked to me about their struggles with eating disorders, cutting, and feeling lost." She did a supremely good job (although, um, OF COURSE SHE DID -- this is Laurie Halse Anderson we're talking about), so, even if reading a book about those subjects won't be a trigger for you, it is very . . . heavy. I've read it twice before; even though I know how everything is eventually going to play out, it is extremely difficult to read. Even more difficult than Speak. And that's saying something.
*Yes, I seriously have a "food journal" from November of 2009 where I regularly got mad at myself for wanting and then having a veggie burger. With soy cheese. I wish I were making this up as a really sick joke. But not so much.
I still have it, by the way. No one is allowed to read it, but I keep it to remind myself just how much Depression had encroached his way into every facet of my life -- and to remind myself of just how far I've come.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Truth
When I was in therapy, I had a lot of anger to deal with (funny how it and depression go together so horribly well) . . . most of which I could not express directly, since confronting my mom is a lot like punching a brick wall (except even more infuriating: if you punch a brick wall, you at least get some bloody knuckles to, you know, show for it) and my dad is dead.
Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.
For sixteen years, if you're me.
Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."
Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.
This is from June 7th:
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
It just happened.
If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.
Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.
For sixteen years, if you're me.
Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."
Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.
This is from June 7th:
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
It just happened.
If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
It wasn't my fault.
It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sweet & Short
[NOTE: This turned out just a bit longer than I originally planned. Heh.]
You know . . .
I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.
I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.
My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.
The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.
Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)
ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.
Because I'm awesome!
I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.
Watch me shine, bitches.
P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.
You know . . .
I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.
I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.
My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.
The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.
Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)
ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.
Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.
Because I'm awesome!
I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.
Watch me shine, bitches.
P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Remember:
Setbacks happen. They're no fun at all, but they are a natural, normal part of recovery (which, by the way, is not an easy thing).
Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.
This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.
Also.
You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)
You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?
The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.
P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.
Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.
This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.
Also.
You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)
You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?
The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.
P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.
Friday, July 29, 2011
"Helpful" Quotes
This morning was very special and somewhat stressful (we don't need to get into the details). To help deal with it, I thought I'd spend the last half of my walk to work thinking up quotes that were, well, helpful. This is what I came up with:
"Please let me get what I want." - The Smiths
==> Another quote by them that was suggested by my friend Kiki (who is one-third of the entire reason I have a Twitter): "You know where you came from, you know where you're going and you know where you belong."
"I hate that there's evil in the world. I hate that I was chosen to fight it." - Buffy Summers
"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" - Buffy Summers
"People say I'm pretty, and I guess I'm okay. People say I'm confident, and I know that's true." - Rachel the Animorph
"Maybe you die, but you never surrender." - Marco the Animorph
ANGELUS: Take all that away, and what's left?
BUFFY: Me.
". . . I know you love me, baby." - Lady Gaga
"It's not too late." - Aang
"You already have all the weapons you need. Now fight." - various characters from Sucker Punch
"The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both . . . then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch
"The end will justify the pain it took to get us there." - Relient K
"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." - Relient K
"You are now at the hard part of getting better. But keep your head up, kid - you got this." - my friend Emily
(Sooo I clearly need to get my ass to the library sometime soon. Even when I quoted the main character of my favorite book of all time, I lifted a line from the movie.)
I may or may not have more to say about this later, but my whole experience with Depression has made me just slightly jealous of Buffy. Sure, every demon in the world eventually comes after her and her friends, whereas I only have the one to deal with . . . but, when she kills a monster, it (almost always) stays dead.
Depression never goes away forever.
At least, not so far.
But I've only been fighting him for about two and a half months. That's somewhat less than the seventeen years he's been trying to ruin my life.
I guess, when you look at it that way, it's sort of a mixed blessing that he doesn't stay dead.
Because killing him feels good.
"Please let me get what I want." - The Smiths
==> Another quote by them that was suggested by my friend Kiki (who is one-third of the entire reason I have a Twitter): "You know where you came from, you know where you're going and you know where you belong."
"I hate that there's evil in the world. I hate that I was chosen to fight it." - Buffy Summers
"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" - Buffy Summers
"People say I'm pretty, and I guess I'm okay. People say I'm confident, and I know that's true." - Rachel the Animorph
"Maybe you die, but you never surrender." - Marco the Animorph
ANGELUS: Take all that away, and what's left?
BUFFY: Me.
". . . I know you love me, baby." - Lady Gaga
"It's not too late." - Aang
"You already have all the weapons you need. Now fight." - various characters from Sucker Punch
"The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both . . . then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch
"The end will justify the pain it took to get us there." - Relient K
"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." - Relient K
"You are now at the hard part of getting better. But keep your head up, kid - you got this." - my friend Emily
(Sooo I clearly need to get my ass to the library sometime soon. Even when I quoted the main character of my favorite book of all time, I lifted a line from the movie.)
I may or may not have more to say about this later, but my whole experience with Depression has made me just slightly jealous of Buffy. Sure, every demon in the world eventually comes after her and her friends, whereas I only have the one to deal with . . . but, when she kills a monster, it (almost always) stays dead.
Depression never goes away forever.
At least, not so far.
But I've only been fighting him for about two and a half months. That's somewhat less than the seventeen years he's been trying to ruin my life.
I guess, when you look at it that way, it's sort of a mixed blessing that he doesn't stay dead.
Because killing him feels good.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Recovery
I'm still not entirely sure what that means (and I really am sorry about that, but seriously: RESEARCHING DEPRESSION IS DEPRESSING), but hey, why in the world should that stop me? This is, after all, my blog.
A few days ago, I had the chance to explain to a very dear friend of mine that I seem to be doing so well right now because I really am doing so well right now, and I really am doing so well right now because I am taking excellent emotional care of myself right now. It's not even a little bit easy to be fucking ecstatic every single day, but I am letting myself be tired -- and, when I'm tired, I back off and, you know, rest. I'm still 100% sober, so I very rarely put myself in situations where I would be tempted to drink.
And so on and so on and so forth.
*** I know I keep saying this (actually, I just said it a few seconds ago), but the whole "choosing to be happy" thing is not easy, but I am clearly doing a great job of it. Which is perhaps best exemplified at, well, my job, where coworkers (one of whom is my manager) have said things like this to me since I've been back from group:
"You have a great attitude that's helping the store environment."
"Well, I mean, there's actually a pretty good chance that the general improvement of morale at the store has a lot to do with you being back."
"You have been so bright, shiny & new since you came back! I love the positive attitude & your customer connections."
*** Obviously, this blog is hugely helpful. Instead of just feeling my feelings and hoping for the best, I am talking about my feelings. That makes it so much easier to deal with them when they're less than pleasant. Especially considering all of the positive feedback I've received so far. People really seem to think this is an awesome idea.
*** As I said, I'm still 100% sober.
There are occasionally moments where I think "You know, I could potentially keep this up indefinitely (as long as all the vodka in the world evaporated right now)." There are also moments where I think "Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, HE'S STILL TALKING AND HE STILL HASN'T ACTUALLY SAID ANYTHING. I need a fucking drink." Mostly, though, there are moments where I think about how nice it would be to go out with Kristine and Sarah and Tuesday (or whoever, but those three pop into my head the most consistently) and eat a lot of Mexican food and have a margarita and/or some Dos Equis.
The thing is, even though I made it through group and I'd personally be okay with drinking again, I'm going to stick it out for a while longer (not really sure exactly how long -- three months is coming up, and after that it's just ten days to 100, and after that it's just eleven days to 111, and I've always liked palindromes) because it just feels so great to know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what I'm feeling. Which means that, if I feel something I don't like, I can change it. Whereas, before, my response to feeling something I didn't like would've been, "Let's drink until we can't feel feelings anymore!"
*** Another thing I'm not doing right now is dating. There are two reasons, one of which is that . . . well, it's like this: I've seen the future, and I'm gonna be fine when I do start dating again. There were things I did in the past, very very stupid things, that I won't do anymore because I know I'm stronger than Depression now. But I've been suffering from depression for a lot longer than I've been dealing with it, and I'd like to be able to look at just a little bit of the PAST and honestly say, "Oh hey, you know, yeah, I'm exponentially more level-headed now. We can totally date. I'll be fine (even if you do eventually start to, gasp, act like a boy). OH, AND ALSO, YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE ME 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING AWESOME."
It'll happen when it happens, y'all.
*** When customers ask me where I've been, I tell them I had to take some time off to deal with family issues. Which isn't the complete truth, obviously, but it is also not, in any way, a lie.
*** I've gotten into this habit of doing 250 pushups a day. And also a varying number of situps. (I have embarrassing workout music. I'm not going to tell you what it is.)
Because, you know, Depression thinks I'm fat.
Fuckface.
*** According to Wikipedia, there are seven "elements of recovery," one of which, self, is defined as: "Recovery of a durable sense of self (if it had been lost or taken away) has been proposed as an important element. A research review suggested that people sometimes achieve this by "positive withdrawal"—regulating social involvement and negotiating public space in order to only move towards others in a way that feels safe yet meaningful; and nurturing personal psychological space that allows room for developing understanding and a broad sense of self, interests, spirituality, etc. It was suggested that the process is usually greatly facilitated by experiences of interpersonal acceptance, mutuality, and a sense of social belonging; and is often challenging in the face of the typical barrage of overt and covert negative messages that come from the broader social context."
Clearly, I've pretty much got this down.
*** One thing I've been doing a lot is listening to music that encourages me in some way or another. There's one song (which I discovered during music therapy at group) that, possibly, encourages me more than any other.
That song is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U-Ul5qnLeQ&ob=av2n
A few days ago, I had the chance to explain to a very dear friend of mine that I seem to be doing so well right now because I really am doing so well right now, and I really am doing so well right now because I am taking excellent emotional care of myself right now. It's not even a little bit easy to be fucking ecstatic every single day, but I am letting myself be tired -- and, when I'm tired, I back off and, you know, rest. I'm still 100% sober, so I very rarely put myself in situations where I would be tempted to drink.
And so on and so on and so forth.
*** I know I keep saying this (actually, I just said it a few seconds ago), but the whole "choosing to be happy" thing is not easy, but I am clearly doing a great job of it. Which is perhaps best exemplified at, well, my job, where coworkers (one of whom is my manager) have said things like this to me since I've been back from group:
"You have a great attitude that's helping the store environment."
"Well, I mean, there's actually a pretty good chance that the general improvement of morale at the store has a lot to do with you being back."
"You have been so bright, shiny & new since you came back! I love the positive attitude & your customer connections."
*** Obviously, this blog is hugely helpful. Instead of just feeling my feelings and hoping for the best, I am talking about my feelings. That makes it so much easier to deal with them when they're less than pleasant. Especially considering all of the positive feedback I've received so far. People really seem to think this is an awesome idea.
*** As I said, I'm still 100% sober.
There are occasionally moments where I think "You know, I could potentially keep this up indefinitely (as long as all the vodka in the world evaporated right now)." There are also moments where I think "Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, he's still talking. Oh my God, HE'S STILL TALKING AND HE STILL HASN'T ACTUALLY SAID ANYTHING. I need a fucking drink." Mostly, though, there are moments where I think about how nice it would be to go out with Kristine and Sarah and Tuesday (or whoever, but those three pop into my head the most consistently) and eat a lot of Mexican food and have a margarita and/or some Dos Equis.
The thing is, even though I made it through group and I'd personally be okay with drinking again, I'm going to stick it out for a while longer (not really sure exactly how long -- three months is coming up, and after that it's just ten days to 100, and after that it's just eleven days to 111, and I've always liked palindromes) because it just feels so great to know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what I'm feeling. Which means that, if I feel something I don't like, I can change it. Whereas, before, my response to feeling something I didn't like would've been, "Let's drink until we can't feel feelings anymore!"
*** Another thing I'm not doing right now is dating. There are two reasons, one of which is that . . . well, it's like this: I've seen the future, and I'm gonna be fine when I do start dating again. There were things I did in the past, very very stupid things, that I won't do anymore because I know I'm stronger than Depression now. But I've been suffering from depression for a lot longer than I've been dealing with it, and I'd like to be able to look at just a little bit of the PAST and honestly say, "Oh hey, you know, yeah, I'm exponentially more level-headed now. We can totally date. I'll be fine (even if you do eventually start to, gasp, act like a boy). OH, AND ALSO, YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE ME 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING AWESOME."
It'll happen when it happens, y'all.
*** When customers ask me where I've been, I tell them I had to take some time off to deal with family issues. Which isn't the complete truth, obviously, but it is also not, in any way, a lie.
*** I've gotten into this habit of doing 250 pushups a day. And also a varying number of situps. (I have embarrassing workout music. I'm not going to tell you what it is.)
Because, you know, Depression thinks I'm fat.
Fuckface.
*** According to Wikipedia, there are seven "elements of recovery," one of which, self, is defined as: "Recovery of a durable sense of self (if it had been lost or taken away) has been proposed as an important element. A research review suggested that people sometimes achieve this by "positive withdrawal"—regulating social involvement and negotiating public space in order to only move towards others in a way that feels safe yet meaningful; and nurturing personal psychological space that allows room for developing understanding and a broad sense of self, interests, spirituality, etc. It was suggested that the process is usually greatly facilitated by experiences of interpersonal acceptance, mutuality, and a sense of social belonging; and is often challenging in the face of the typical barrage of overt and covert negative messages that come from the broader social context."
Clearly, I've pretty much got this down.
*** One thing I've been doing a lot is listening to music that encourages me in some way or another. There's one song (which I discovered during music therapy at group) that, possibly, encourages me more than any other.
That song is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U-Ul5qnLeQ&ob=av2n
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Hey, This is Important!
01. Depression is never right about anything.
My instincts, on the other hand, are almost always right about everything.
02. Depression thinks I'm fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and/or pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
03. Depression thinks I'm no good at making friends. Proving him wrong (which, by the way, easier than you might think) is fun -- fun for me, and fun for my new friends. Everybody wins! Except, of course, for Depression, who loses because he is a loser. And a fuckface.
Also, has anyone else noticed how much more my old friends love me since I got out of group? 'Cause it's a lot.
04. Depression is very very scary, but I AM FUCKING FEARLESS.
05. Depression is weaker than I am. Even when he's at his strongest, he is never even one-tenth as strong as I am on my very weakest day (proof: April 24th). This is because he has no power that I don't give him, and my spirit is indomitable.
06. Depression put up quite a fight, but I won. I saved myself.
He's a pretty sore loser. He's also an idiot. He refuses to admit that he's lost. But fighting him is easier than ever, even when he whips out the most effective attacks in his arsenal, because I don't listen to him anymore. I listen to myself now. I remind myself of everything he ruined for me, and everything he very nearly almost but not quite totally ruined for me, that I have worked so hard (and am still working) to regain.
Also, silly as it sounds, picturing him as a demon I have to fight really helps a lot. Dad was onto something when he said, "Kill him like he tried to kill you."
07. Look how happy I am without him:
My instincts, on the other hand, are almost always right about everything.
02. Depression thinks I'm fat.
This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and/or pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.
03. Depression thinks I'm no good at making friends. Proving him wrong (which, by the way, easier than you might think) is fun -- fun for me, and fun for my new friends. Everybody wins! Except, of course, for Depression, who loses because he is a loser. And a fuckface.
Also, has anyone else noticed how much more my old friends love me since I got out of group? 'Cause it's a lot.
04. Depression is very very scary, but I AM FUCKING FEARLESS.
05. Depression is weaker than I am. Even when he's at his strongest, he is never even one-tenth as strong as I am on my very weakest day (proof: April 24th). This is because he has no power that I don't give him, and my spirit is indomitable.
06. Depression put up quite a fight, but I won. I saved myself.
He's a pretty sore loser. He's also an idiot. He refuses to admit that he's lost. But fighting him is easier than ever, even when he whips out the most effective attacks in his arsenal, because I don't listen to him anymore. I listen to myself now. I remind myself of everything he ruined for me, and everything he very nearly almost but not quite totally ruined for me, that I have worked so hard (and am still working) to regain.
Also, silly as it sounds, picturing him as a demon I have to fight really helps a lot. Dad was onto something when he said, "Kill him like he tried to kill you."
07. Look how happy I am without him:
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Epiphany
My name is Ryan.
From April 10th, 1995 until sometime in May of 2011 (for those of you who like numbers, that's a little more than sixteen years), I was possessed by Depression. Yeah, I know Depression isn't really a thing that can possess you . . . but, holy cows, it sure does feel like it, and thinking of him as a him, as someone I can fight, has been enormously helpful to me. It's going to be a life-long battle, but I know I can do it. Even when he's at his absolute strongest, he is NEVER a tenth as powerful as I am at my absolute weakness. I will remind myself of this every day for the rest of my life if that's what it takes, and I will NEVER let him have any power over me ever again.
Anyway.
The following, which was originally posted to my Facebook, was the thing that inspired me to start this blog. A total stranger who knew my dad (who died in a really stupid car crash on April 10th, 1995) found me through my aunt and read it and, despite being on staff at the church where my dad had been the pastor (my family is so religious that our last name is a truncated form of the word "bishop"), loved it (even though you can't read it and not realize that I'm gay) and asked for my permission to share it with two members of her family because she thought they needed to hear it.
I said yes, of course, but then I got to thinking: How many more people could I help if I had a wider readership? How much could I help myself if I regularly wrote down my feelings about Depression (and depression in general, which is something that we don't talk about enough as a society, and THAT IS NOT OKAY) and put them out there for anybody to read? How much change could I start? How much exponentially more powerful could I be, and therefore more able to kick ass, the next time Depression came knocking?
Honestly, I don't know. I would very much like to find out.
(Plus, you know, I have a wide array of thoughts that must be shared -- thoughts on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and how to make the perfect macaroni & cheese and other equally important stuff.)
Alright, here you go.
"Why does NO ONE seem to understand just how SCARED I am?"
Hmm.
Probably because that particular (irrational) fear isn't really a fear, Bud -- it's nothing more and nothing less than your own personal Depression. He knows how tired you are, and he's been hovering behind you, just out of sight, whispering things in your ear all this time.
The things he's been whispering are lies. He's lied to you ever since the moment you reached out to him. He has never told you the truth, and he couldn't even if he tried. Lying is all he can do.
He's the best liar you'll ever meet, because he knows things you're already (irrationally) afraid of and yells that they're real, yells that they're right behind you, yells that they're coming to get you, until his voice drowns out every other sound.
Now, here's the good news:
You don't have to listen to him anymore.
You've been listening to him for such an awful long time. He's told you that you're his only friend in the world, and you've acted like it. While your real friends have ignored his calls and burned his letters and gotten on with their lives, you've bought him drinks and cried on his shoulder. It's pathetic.
BUT GUESS WHAT?
You're stronger than him.
True, you've only recently learned how to fight him, when you could've oh-so-easily learned that ages and ages ago (or, you know, last summer).
Forget it.
The point is that you HAVE learned how to fight him, and now he can never beat you ever again. You are so much stronger than he is that it's pretty much insane: Whereas you are a superhero-god-writer-comic-ass-kicking-destroyer-of-worlds whose brain is powerful enough to change the way you look at the entire world every single day (without even meaning to), he is, to borrow a phrase, "a dwarf with the mystical strength of a doily."
He wants you more than he wants anyone else in the world. He hasn't figured out that he's lost you, and he will never admit that he has no power over you anymore. (He's stupid like that.)
But he doesn't deserve you.
He's done everything in his power (which, while considerably less than yours, is still a considerable power) to make you miserable. He's driven away every boy you've ever liked (not to mention the only boy you've ever loved), he's convinced you that you're worthless, he's grabbed you by the neck and squeezed until you couldn't breathe, he's robbed you of the will to live, he's made you think he knows what the fuck he's talking about.
He's an asshole. He's a demon who wants to kill you, and he'd prefer to do it slowly. (How slowly? He'd make it take the rest of your life if he could.) He talks about you behind your back. And he thinks you're fat.
Alright then.
Go ahead and deal with him.
"How, exactly? I am so tired."
Don't shout. Shouting never solves anything.
Don't tell him he's wrong. He loves to argue almost as much as he loves to lie, and (unlike you) he never gets tired of it.
No, don't say anything to him. Don't even look at him if you don't want to (yep, you can do this with your eyes closed).
Kick the bitch.
Bite him, scratch him, punch him -- over and over again, over and over and over (your arms are not tired; your arms are loving this; that ache you think you feel is actually your arms singing about how they've never felt so alive) (your arms sing much better than your mouth, by the way) -- shove him, knock him down, throw rocks at him, drown him, set him on fire, imagine heavy things and drop them on his stupid head, kick him again, hold him down and make him eat grass, blow him up with your mind (because this is your imagination and you can do that here), grab a really big knife and cut him, cut him, cut him, until he bleeds
and breaks
and dies.
Yes.
Go on.
KILL HIM.
Kill him like he tried to kill you.
(Like he's been trying to kill you for longer than Abigail has been alive -- think about that sometime.)
And then turn around, turn around and do not look back. Don't look back and don't tell him you're sorry.
YES, you've just done something horribly violent; NO, you do not have to feel the slightest bit sorry for it.
Don't feel sorry, don't look back, don't turn around.
Run.
Run until you can't run anymore. Run until your legs break. Even after they break, keep pulling yourself along until your arms fall off.
And then what?
And then give thanks.
And be reborn.
Take your new body and your new mind and your new spirit and your new power and write, walk, run, drive, eat, cook, talk, laugh, cry, get dirty, clean up, swim, hike, bike, crawl, joke, jump, fly, change, learn, teach, hope, feel, go, stay, want, enjoy, reflect, epitomize, improve, help, grow, remember, dance, paint, stroll, make cookies, buy shoes, travel, come home, create, watch, demand, empower, utilize, play, work, read, fuck, marry, drink,
live,
be.
Without him. He's ugly, and he makes you seem ugly whenever he's around. And you're TOO FUCKING HOT to ever seem ugly.
Oh, one more thing:
Don't ever think he's gone forever. No matter how many times you kill him, he will always start to put himself back together right away, and he will always know exactly where to find you, and he will always know exactly how to hurt you, but he will NEVER be able to control you again.
And he's not worth it. He was never your friend. He always lied to you.
Good thing I was here waiting to teach you how strong you are.
I love you, and I always will.
Now, go, take that love and put some of it out there in the world.
Make me proud.
"I promise. Thanks, Dad."
So, that's it. As I say, I'm Ryan.
More later.
LOVE.
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