Sunday, September 6, 2009

My Mind is Dangerous

Lots of stuff goes through my head lately, although none of it ever seems to be positive. It makes me wonder whether they are serious things worth thinking about or if they are all just intensified, exaggerated versions of minor issues that just get blown out of proportion in my spotty, damaged mind.

Look, before all of this MS stuff came to light, I never even considered depression. It was not in my realm of being. I just assumed that it was something that was so… you, know? Like any sadness or whatever that I felt, I knew it was minor. Nothing to worry about. Do a little sulking and let that be that. How or why would doctors or medication ever need to enter the picture? It's just sadness, happiness' ugly twin. It always seemed to be such an out-there concept to me that any of it could be medical or anyone would need to take something to help. If a person is sad or whatever, they're just sad, right?

Then, over the past few months I realize that I am really not all that in control of how I feel anymore. Granted, I still can slap on a smile (or at least a blank expression) if need be, but these days I find that my emotions are just more intensified than I'd like them to be. And this can probably be attributed to those lesions in my brain. Those spots that show up in MRI's that prove my brain is broken. Broken… and now, ├╝ber emotional.

Not that having emotions is a bad thing, domo arrigato. It's just, especially lately, I have just been so down that there is no other word for it. It's depression. Plain & simple. Sure, I could think about the positives in my life - My parents, who I know won't let me end up homeless and on a freeway offramp begging for nickels. My health, which could be worse but isn't (thank jeebus!). I can see, I can walk, I'm not in a wheelchair. Those are things to be thankful for.

Instead, I feel stuck in this quicksand of negativity. Damon, you have no job. Damon, soon enough you'll have no money. Damon, you moved back home and you haven't been able to leave yet. Damon, you have no room, just a bed & a bookshelf. Damon, you have no car. Damon, you can't lose that weight you desperately need to. Damon, you have no friends. Damon, you have no life. You know what you do have? A shitty outlook on life, Multiple freakin' Sclerosis, and the inability to change the whole life situation dispite trying.

Okay, before I get all Dewey Downer on you (too late!), it is possible that I might be exaggerating. But to me, it sure feels like there's no exaggerating going on. That's where the whole pondering depression as a medical thing comes in. I begin to wonder, is this normal? Am I normal (let's face it, I've never been normal)? Or is this all something I should be dealing with by using some sort of medication? Would it actually help any? It's not like it would actually solve any of those aforementioned life issues that I am so wrapped up in.

What my thought process always lands up on is that all of this is my problem, something in my head or something I should be able to handle, and I just need to stop being a loser and handle it. Take care of business so to speak. It's all just me playing tricks on myself or something. All those feelings of isolation, of desperation, of feeling like I'm the mayor of Losertown - they're stupid and I just gotta move on.

Or they're true. Fuck.

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