Passing as human

Oh hi, it’s your friendly neighbourhood depressive TechnicallyRon here, let’s talk depression BECAUSE THAT’S FUN.

I’ve been wanting to write this blog for a while now, but not entirely sure how to phrase it. But fuck it. Let’s try. If it all goes terribly wrong just pretend you haven’t read this and we will all go on with our lives.

I’ve had a couple of dips recently. Depression is rather brilliant like that. You think you’ve got everything together, you think you’re completely in control, but you forget that those times can be far and few between. I just went back onto autopilot mode. I was rarely in control. I felt like I was just floating through everything. I wasn’t really there. Conversations went over my head, work just happened, life simply occurred, I wasn’t doing anything, I just, was.

I’m not particularly good at looking after myself anyway, I can resist anything but temptation, I am basically a toddler that is allowed to drink and smoke and make poor financial decisions. When I get low this amplifies. I spend my time drinking, in a marvellously cliched circle of self loathing. I can’t help it, I try, I really do, but I fail, because that’s what I do, I fail.

When I’m in a spiral I coast. I coast because anything more than that seems like effort. Anything more than the bare minimum it takes me to get through a day feels like the most challenging thing I will ever accomplish. Fuck depression. It’s a selfish disorder that makes you feel like a twat all the time and when you try to pull yourself up it just makes you feel worse.

However, annoyingly and hypocritically, I try and find a positive in this. When it comes to MH disorders there are few positives that can possibly be taken, so when they come along it’s so fucking important to make a point of them.

When I’m depressed I feel trapped within myself, disguised almost, pretending to be a person, pretending to be a normal functioning member of society. This can be the hardest part. Inside is numb, nothing works, but on the outside I’m happy, I am polite and I am conversational, simply because I don’t want to bother anyone with this, I don’t want anyone to know what’s happening inside my brain, I don’t want to be me.

People judge you by what you are like in public. No one knows what the hell anyone is actually going through at any time. Someone might be a bit quiet of a night out and some may perceive that as rude, not knowing that that person is so bloody anxious about being in the outside world that they are fighting with themselves to not just get up and go home. Someone may be a little off in the office, they are probably just being a dick, because it’s completely illogical that their outer manifestation of themselves could accurately represent their inner workings.

So, the positive spin on this is, through all your peculiarities, at least it’s better than being fucking normal. Imagine being normal, it means garden centre trips on a Sunday, wearing beige trousers, knowing where your electricity meter is, eating salad, checking your bank balance. Sounds horrendous. Never define yourself through a socially constructed definition of normality, never define yourself by any one else’s standards. I have my problems, and they are mine. You have your problems, and they are yours.

It’s about not letting the chemical imbalances in your brain define you. It’s about finding that tiny scrap of self worth and holding onto it like a winning lottery ticket. It’s about self preservation. Don’t take things day by day, take them moment by moment: breathe, talk to people you trust, ignore the people you can’t. TOP TIP: If you read this section in the style of Baz Luhrmann’s ‘Sunscreen’ then it makes this whole paragraph really annoying.

You can never know which people are holding on by their fingertips, just trying to get through a day without incident, if we in this weird community can look out for each other, occasionally ask how each other is with sincerity, then we are getting somewhere. It may not be getting far but we are getting there.

The greatest lie we are told as kids is that when you become an adult you will have everything figured out. No one knows what they are doing in life, everyone is winging it, everyone is hoping to get through each day without fucking up.


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