Big fucking deal.
Earlier today I experienced a pretty bad wave of depression. My mind was flooded with sadness and hopelessness and a terrible feeling of dread.
Like I knew something truly awful was about to happen. Something so awful I couldn’t bear to think about it or even glance in its direction.
And to be honest, even though I feel somewhat better now, the dread lingers on. I have to keep fighting it off by reminding myself that nothing bad is known to be happening to me or anyone else in the near future and that this dread has no basis in reality.
But then again, neither does the depression and despair. It’s all just neurochemical bullshit with no more meaning or truth to it than the shapes of passing clouds.
So this time, I just said fuck it. So I’m depressed now. OK, fine. I’ll just be depressed, then. I’m not going to panic and I am not going to fight it or panic or anything like that. I am just going to treat it like the nonevent it is and let it run its course.
And that made me feel a bit better. I am tired of being bossed around by this bullshit we call “mood”. I have an incredibly strong mind and vast reserves of will, and I am going to use them to beat back the tide and reclaim my mind as my own.
And god help whatever random chemical bullshit stands in my way.
Got a few new games recently.
One was via Humble Monthly. It’s a service offered by the Humble Bundle website where every month, there’s a slate of games you can download from for the low low price of around $17 a month.
Seemed like a good idea at the time. We shall see.
Anyhow, the first and only game I have acquired so far via this dubious transaction is Valkyria Chronicles 4, and nope. Nope nope nope.
The trailer for it made it seem like a 3D action RPG like Skyrim, but it is actually a very deep turn based-ish 3D strategy game and my brain says noooo, too much input, we are not going there.
I have played such strategy games in 2D and enjoyed them. But the combination of a third dimension plus having to control my soldiers in realtime FPS adds way too much complexity for my brain to handle comfortably.
I’m good at creative strategy. Innovative problem solving. Complex verbal gameplans. That kind of thing.
The more formal kind of strategy one finds in things like chess is beyond me. My mind really doesn’t want to go there and I usually let it do what it wants when all that is on the line is my own entertainment.
Also tried a demo of a very weird game called Luck Be A Landlord. It’s basically the world’s most complicated slot machine, where between spins you get to choose symbols to add to the big 5X5 stripe machine, and the idea is to earn enough money by spinning to pay your ever-increasing rent so you can keep playing.
Was fun for a little while but meh. Not a keeper.
More after the break.
Still in the dark
Still pretty depressed, much to my surprise. Even though I thought it was going away, it ended up hitting a plateau instead and then just kinda hanging around.
My well of soul is full of black octopus ink swirling and spoiled and corrupting into the void shredding toxic cloud that makes the demons laugh until they wet themselves when I refer to it as my soul.
I dunno. I probably just need a good cry.
I’m serious. My current working theory is that the glacial processes of my recovery have pushed a deposit of sadness and grief to the surface and now I have to make the time to feel it all if I want to continue.
Might not be fun but it’s got to be done.
This future grief is probably the cause of my dread as well. Something terrible is definitely going to happen : I’m going to be real sad for a while.
Oh well, there are worse things to be. Crying might not be fun while it is happening (unless you have one mother of a weird fetish) but you feel so much better after.
That’s why my number one piece of advice to other men is to cry, god damn it. Crying is a vital part of regulating our emotions. It’s the all important release valve that regulates the pressure level in our emotions and if you never cry, you will explode.
Or choke on your own fumes and die.
Either way, pretty stupid outcome when you think that ten minutes of tears could have prevented it AND left you a much happier person.
And I’m no expert. It’s still something I have to make myself do, or rather, make myself let happen. And even then, it’s pretty rare.
I’d probably be better off if I did it more often. But I am as much of a product of testosterone poisoning as the next North American male and I got a healthy dose of a fear of being vulnerable in front of the implacable bully inside too.
Horrible to contemplate all the destruction wrought by teaching boys not to cry. All the suffering, both to ourselves and to those unfortunates who become our outlets for the only “acceptable” way to release tension, rage.
What a writhing mass of craziness that bullshit is.
Women have no idea how much suffering in silence we do. Well, that’s not true. They are beginning to learn, and to sympathize.
Makes me glad to be an out fag. The expectations are different. We have a partial pass on “womanly” things like chattiness, overt displays of emotion, and showing vulnerability in front of other men.
Doesn’t totally solve the problem of severe impacted emotions, but it puts us a lot closer to the finish line.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.