I used to be in a rather unhealthy relationship with this lady. We were stuck in this feedback loop of drama; we'd find problems, drift apart, have soul-searching conversations, come together into a passionate renewal of our affection, which eventually cooled. It was either hot or cold, we never found a solid balance and became addicted to the emotions and sensations we found at the extremes.
Deep down I knew this was exhausting and untenable. If you're listening to this relationship on the radio, you'd start off by listening to the saddest station. Keep going down the band, and if your fingers are nimble and ears acute, you'll just pick up a small oasis of funny between the static. It was a truly absurd dynamic. At this particular point, though, we'd gone far beyond and were tuned into the station for just plain stupid. It was that stage where we were "taking space" from each other, again, for whatever reason.
I was hanging out with my uncle, and he made a casual inquiry about how things were going with the two of us. I sheepishly told him that we were taking a break. He replied with, "Aw, that's too bad. I guess some things just don't work out. You'll be alright." Conversation moved on, and it took me a few days to untangle a quizzical expression left on my face.
He didn't say, "When will you get back together?" or "I hope you two will work it out". Instead it was "That's too bad." With a sense of finality, like hearing about a dead pet. We weren't just taking a break, we were broken up. Cleft in twain. And I didn't correct him, for some reason.
That comment, whether intended or not, made me pull the emergency brake and bring the whole flaming disaster ride to a halt. Because I had actually told another soul, I had to own the situation and see it through. Sure, we could've gotten back together, but that would've made me look like a weak-willed idiot. Which is what I was. There's something about moving an issue out of your head and into the real world that puts it into context and gives you the perspective to appreciate just how messed up it is.
A few months ago I approached a doctor to get on anti-depressants. I did the whole schtick for a while when I was a teenager, so I recognized the signs and knew what the solution would be. As an adult, every few years I'd have a short stint that would work itself out. I never told anyone, I just muddled through. For the last couple years, though, I've been stuck in a short stint that isn't exactly short any more. So to the doctor I went. There's no shame in it, mental health is a legitimate priority, medications can help, and all those other cheery platitudes.
I skimmed the surface with my doctor, did a few tests, and she prescribed me some meds. What all those mental health advocates don't say is how hard it is to get on a stabilized medication that doesn't screw you up worse than before. I thought crossing the threshold into the doctor's office and admitting the problem would be the hardest step. I was wrong.
Treating a mental issue as a physical problem gave me a tool to box it up into a tidy little container; there's not something wrong with my mind, it's just a chemical balance in my brain that needs to get sorted out. Go pills!
But pills haven't been the quick and easy solution that I seem to remember as a teenager. I'm about to start my third different medication, and my doctor said that I should really consider some "talk therapy". She gave me a referral. I submitted my patient information on their website, and they scheduled an intake appointment call. Then something peculiar happened; in our phone discussion I had to describe not my general mood or feelings, but who I was and what I'm actually thinking about. In those fifteen minutes, I shone a light into a remote corner of my brain that I've always known is there but conveniently avoid acknowledging.
Almost like that missing kid in that creepy movie where everyone in the small quiet town says, "Oh, we don't talk about that." Yeah, you know that something's not right and it's a giant neon sign short of being as obvious as possible.
I am not doing okay.
Sure, depression. I feel empty and can't remember the last time I was passionate about or looked forward to... anything. Blah, blah, whatever.
But I can't do anything creative. Never mind inspiration, I can't get I can't even look at creative things without feeling like a failure.
I'm becoming stupider every day. It started off with a weird misspelling or forgotten date, and now I'm making bizarre typos (when was the last time that you spelled "challenge" as "channel"?), missing details on a label right in front of me, misremembering my weekly schedule... I've heard that your mind slows down as you age, but this simply can't be right.
Fixing a garden-variety depression may be one thing, but is there any bouncing back from watching your mind is unravel itself in a desperate frenzy? My professional life is a mess, and how on earth can I possibly dig up the gumption to find a new job when I'm a creative failure and can't even pretend to be a semi-intelligent individual.
By removing the ugly paper mache mask obscuring my insecurities, I'm feeling like the mess I've been hiding. And damn, this was just an introductory call. I don't even have my first appointment until the end of the month. But just having to say neglected things out loud to another human being has opened the floodgates.
Here's the kicker: I now have the opportunity to do something about it and get off the flaming disaster ride again. I hope I have at least that much left in me.
-Cril
Oh, I've changed my number
Wore disguises and went undercover just to
Just to hide away from you
Oh, my ghost came a-calling
Making noises 'bout a promise I had broken
Oh, I'm gonna be lonely soon
Oh, here comes trouble
Put your helmet on, we'll be heading for a fall
Yeah, the whole thing's gonna blow
And the devil's got my number
It's long overdue, he'll come looking soon
Yeah, the whole thing's gonna blow
"Everything's gonna be okay"
Oh, I keep telling myself
"Don't worry, be happy"
Oh, you keep telling yourself
"Everything's gonna be okay"
Oh, I keep telling myself
"Don't worry, be happy"
Oh, you keep telling yourself
"Everything's gonna be okay"
TV On The Radio - Trouble
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