An open thread for personal stuff, continuing from here.
As usual for these threads: no trolls, no MRAs, no I’m-not-really-an-MRA-buts, don’t be mean.
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We Hunted The MammothBucking the Backlash
We Hunted The Mammoth
I’m not actually sure where I went in London, as I was about 7. I just have memories of traffic, crowds, badly-driven taxis. It might just be me, I hate cities in general
I also embarrassed myself by screaming, loudly, during the performance of the Mousetrap. Though I really enjoyed watching it.
Oh no, I’m sorry you had such a bad experience. If you ever go again there are some truly beautiful areas. I’m not a big crowds person, so I tend towards the more quiet and scenic.
I never saw the Mousetrap, though I do remember seeing Cats a bunch of times as a kid. It was magical.
And the killer is….! It was the 30th year of it being performed when I went. Lots of jokes about people lurking outside threatening to reveal the killer unless money was paid. Only professional play I have ever seen, and I totally had a (useless) crush on the gay guy in the story.
Hope that didn’t sound too flippant.
OK, this is difficult, and embarrassing. I’m hoping that here people will understand and not think of me as well…I do.
I was diagnosed with depression 25 years back. Personally, I think it started a decade before that. Up until a decade ago, soaking in a bath was my preferred medicine. From then on…the mere thought of water on my skin made me cringe and feel bad.
I think that it is part of my low self esteem. On a day I manage to clean myself, wear clean clothes and then do something like bake or cook a good meal…it’s…half of me says ‘This is the minimum a human should be expected to do. And half of me wants to scream ‘I climbed a mountain to do this! Don’t you understand ?” But because it /is/ the minimum a human should be expected to do, no-one does. So I hate myself and when I feel proud at having achieved it, no-one else does. So I feel…deficient.
Oh, gilshalos! That’s the depression monster talking! On one hand, of course every human ‘should’ be able to bathe, wear clean clothes, and prepare food daily, but that’s assuming the particular human you’re talking about isn’t weighted down with a giant depression monster chained ’round their neck, gnawing on their soul. Remember, the depression monster will tell you all sorts of horrible lies about how worthless you are so that it can keep sucking the life out of you! It feeds on the hopelessness and despair that it creates in you by nattering its evil lies in your ear and robbing you of your good feelings.
You do deserve to feel good about the ‘small’ things! That’s why the depression monster doubles down when you start to feel good about them. It knows that if you get enough small things to feel good about, you’ll feel strong enough to do medium things to feel good about, and then, you might start to feel strong enough to do big things to feel good about, and the depression monster can’t stand the thought of losing you!
If it helps, I would be very proud of you, if you did any one of those things today. (and I’d still think you were pretty nifty, even if you didn’t)
@gilshalos
MAN do I know about the depression monster, the you’re-failing-at-human monster. Here is something that helped me and perhaps it will help you:
http://captainawkward.com/2011/09/12/reader-question-110-how-do-i-claw-my-way-out-of-this-depressing-living-situation/
Scroll down to #4: the Gold Stars. Do this, for real, at least a few times. I was shocked by both how much giving myself a stupid little star motivated me to do things like take a shower, and by how many stars I wound up with at the end of the day. It was a great way for me to remind myself just how much I do accomplish, even when I am at my least effective. I would look at the list, and the items I didn’t get to sort of disappeared in a sea of gold stars. Doing laundry turned into like a dozen stars (because each step is a list item: gather clothes, sort clothes, put clothes into laundry, add detergent, turn washer on, come back when the cycle is finished, etc. etc.) I felt so accomplished! For doing laundry!
It sounds stupid, but doing laundry actually is an accomplishment, and you deserve to have concrete and visible representation of your success.
Not flippant at all! Reminds me of when the sixth Harry Potter book came out and folks who had read it were holding fans who hadn’t to ransom (“Do you want me to tell you what happens? I totally could”, “Please god NO! Anything but spoilers!!”).
I’ve struggled with depression on and off for years. If it helps, I used to think of depression as having huge lead weights attached, which made doing anything and everything that much harder. At times it genuinely felt as if there was a physical weight pressing down on me, so accomplishing something like having a shower or getting dressed took so, so much more and became, during the down times, exactly that. An accomplishment.
I would look at other people completing ordinary, everyday things without a care and feel better because I’d remember, “Well, that might be easy for you, but you don’t have to do it all with ten-ton weights strapped to your back!”.
Well, I managed the wearing clean clothing and eating. Cleaning myself…uh…nope. But right now I’m focussed on mainly ensuring that I eat Cos not bathing is unlikely to kill me, though it might make me an outcaste, not eating is deadly.
Bunnies, it must be BUNNIES!
https://www.facebook.com/georgehtakei/photos/a.223098324386295.105971.205344452828349/1082339511795501/?type=1
gilshalos, seconding what everyone said above. And hugs.
I want to thank you all. All my life people have said ‘You’re crazy’ and walked away. Now, I don’t generally take crazy as an insult, in my friend group it is more like a compliment, but….it is so nice to say things and get support, and “I’ve been there” comments. Just knowing other people understand is…priceless.
Also, LBT ? I don’t have experience of your issues, but from your comments..I like you. And if as an uninformed bystander I can give you the kind of support I have found here…that would be good.
@gilshalos
You’re never alone. No matter what kind of fucked-up-ness your brain is kicking at you. You’re never alone in it.
BUNNIEEEEEEEEEEEES
That, right there, is a jerk filter worthy comment. If someone gets caught in your jerk filter, you can safely disregard their opinions until such time as they sincerely apologise and you feel magnanimous enough to accept the apology.
Also seconding what Policy of Madness just said.
I forgot to write this earlier: last night I had a snippet of memory of the previous night at Home. Louis’s father and stepmother were visiting. Louis and Henri were plaing paille-maille, the game that eventually morphed into croquet (but much harder, because the ring you have to shoot the ball through is suspended five-six feet off the ground). Blowed if I recall when we set up the ring in our garden, maybe they did during the visit! It was a little like watching a two-man cricket match, if there could be such a thing: just the whack of the mallet on the ball and the two of them talking and calling out to each other. The season’s turned there, I recall Louis was in his one of his lovely Aran jumpers. I watched all this from where I sat knitting and talking to Kathy. It was a beautiful autumn day.
There was another memory that was lovely, and intense, and switched from my memory to his, but I think that’s enough to give the gist. 🙂
Last night I recall we were working in the garden, which, given its size and the complete lack of help from the resident Furrinati, is something we spend lots of time on. Funny, I have zero interest in gardening here, likewise learning to cook or play music, but I do all of it over There.
Gough Whitlam (Prime Minister of Australia 1972 – 1975) has passed over. He was 98, so not unexpected, but still a shock, and a blow. Damn, damn, damn.
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/oct/21/gough-whitlam-dies-at-age-98
My cat had to put down yesterday. I only just found out Niko had diabetes last week, and when I brought him in yesterday, he had ketoacidosis, he’d barely been eating, his walking was wobbly… It was too much.
We buried him in my parent’s backyard this morning, and I’m just a mess right now.
I’m so sorry, Amnesia.
Oh, Amnesia, so sorry.
I’m so sorry, Amnesia.
Amnesia, I’m so sorry. Give yourself permission to be a mess for a while.
I’m so sorry for your loss, amnesia.
Amnesia, I’m so sorry! Hugs if they’re wanted.