I wasn’t expecting such an emotional response from the passing of one of the greatest comics & actors of my time.
I’ve told my husband that I’m busy processing emotions that up until now, were only fleeting and stark, at best…hidden and suppressed, at worst.
In the news.
And, I’ve been reading blog posts and news articles and comments on social media…and I’ve been triggered. Yes, I’ve certainly had suicidal thoughts in my battle with depression. Multiple times. Because depression is an asshat and likes to come back to play every now and again, especially when you’ve just gotten your shit together.
I wrote “Candid Conversation” about some of those emotions. Some of the most comments on a blog post I’ve had to date.
But that’s not just what has gotten triggered.
It’s been the response.
“Let’s end the stigma.” “Let’s talk about it.”
Sweet mother of YES, does this need to happen…and often.
BUT…I’ve noticed a glaring omission from the conversation: Strategy.
How. When. Why.
Logical and factual information that will benefit the emotionally distraught AND the people who valiantly put themselves out there to listen, help and support.
Tell me (you…them) about the brain chemicals that are snafu’d. Tell me (you…them) the process of owning one’s shit, and how it helps those brain chemicals.
Honestly? I don’t want to feckin’ talk about it. As an example, if my passionate pleas for Lupus Walk donations get hidden from newsfeeds…if my successes get scrolled through (or prompts gossip & rumour) for the sake of looking at kittens, or being a troll on more exciting threads…why in the flying feck of nature do you think I want to talk to you about my deepest, darkest thoughts?
Food for thought.
I do what I can to own my shit and undertake the responsibility to seek out psychological and/or pharmaceutical assistance. I believe people need the “empowerment” versus “enabling” that comes with Mr. Asshat Depression.
People need to be given the empowerment & “control” they so desperately feel they lack in life…to make choices to allow them to best set goals, acknowledge limits and be successful in depression management.
Three years ago I had a most devastating conversation with my GP.
“Given the current levels of _______* and congenital _______*, and the processes of how your organs ________*…I am so sorry. I believe we’ll be looking at five years before the progression of the systemic lupus causes your kidneys to fail and your heart to have irreparable damage. Is there someone, anyone, you would feel comfortable with to help you make sure all of your affairs would be in order by then? Um, well…anyone you will tell?”
*I prefer to have some information on my direct condition still kept to myself
And you don’t, for one millisecond, believe that I would like to have the control and discretion to cease all cellular activity on my own terms?
Third year of five.
But I don’t.
But I want to. I can’t fathom my upcoming challenges and how much of a toll this kind of daily pain will inflict upon my very soul.
But I don’t.
In the meantime, I’ve found an escape through #gladitude. I’ve found an escape through the Cosmos…I mean, if billions of years of planetary pummeling produced my Go, Go SpazzyAss …that’s a pretty feckin’ special kind of thing, eh?
I’m owning my shit. I acknowledge that I should talk when I should, or take medications when I should…
But, I really, really hope those who support us during our darkest thoughts have a conversation within an article about a comment-strewn-about-on-social-media …that will provide to us more than a passing (yet thoroughly honest) “I’m here to listen.”…because dollars to donuts, people are still embarrassed and tied in stigma to just initiate that conversation.
There is a strategy in dealing with the human psyche.
Not all of that strategy comes from books and degrees.
The challenge is to make it voiced, without invalidating someone’s believe-it-to-be-true crisis.
Take my hand…
I *hear* you.
Carpe the shit out of your diem.