August 28th, 2016
I’m trying to make some changes. Diet changes. Less pizza, less soda, less potato chips and Doritos. In place of the soda, I’ve subbed in flavored sparkling water. I give myself a pop every day or every other day but it’s not it used to be. It wasn’t uncommon for me to drink a bunch of sodas in a day. Mountain Dews, Pepsi, Diet Dr. Pepper.
My stomach feels better. I think the lack of soda pop has made it easier on me, stomach-wise.
I wasn’t raised in a normal way. I sort of have to raise myself now. At the age people think mortgage for their home. I have to nurture that inner child that makes some people sick to hear about. That neglected inner child.
I am a depressed little boy. My depression is very strong. It’s not strong enough to make me want to die, but it’s strong enough to make me not want to take care of business. “Don’t clean up around here. It doesn’t matter.” I won’t clean up, depression. I won’t pick up all these clothes on the floor. I won’t sort out all this mail that piled up on my counter. “Don’t work on songs right now.” I won’t work on songs right now. I won’t finish any one of the millions of songs that are almost done. Maybe I will work on a few of them. . . eventually. I have so much to do. But depression is the boss around here. I just live here and pay the bills and put out the garbage at 9pm the night before the guy comes to collect it.
Or 1am. Whatever works for me and my depression.
Which one of us is in control? Obviously, the depression is right now.
I’m not melancholy. I’m not even sad. I’m listening to a soundboard of a Prince & The Revolution concert from 1986 just before they broke up and I’m enjoying myself. This might be the last concert they played in Tokyo. If depression were just a state of being sad, I wouldn’t have a problem. Because I’m not sad.
I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. That is the reason for my depression. I am not getting what I need, chemically and hormonally. I try to work through it with therapy and medication. It’s a science, not an art. Not a perfect science, either. And that is okay.
My depression is not going to be relieved by medicine. Pills are not happy-makers. They do not make me oblivious to my problems in real-life. They don’t help me forget that I am too fat, as well as a bunch of other stuff. The pills just aim to give me a more level playing field so I can deal with my problems instead of be on edge like a maniac all the time.
Pills will not make all my problems go away. They’re not supposed to, that’s not on the label. Some people want to make their problems go away and stop feeling sad and medicine just isn’t going to make that happen. Because bad things happen and your feelings are going to be what they are in relation to those events. If you’re in debt, depression medicine isn’t going to make that debt go away. I was fat before I took the medicine, I’m still fat. Pills didn’t take those things away. I didn’t take diet pills.
This has gotten away from me. These things usually do. I started writing about one thing and ended up writing about a bunch of other things in relation. I’m trying to tie it all together in a bow and I can’t. I wish I could but the real world isn’t tied in a nice little bow. It’s all a mess and it’s a mess in my life and it’s probably a mess in your life too. I just wanted to give a little bit of wisdom that I’ve gained from years of experience.
Everything I learned I learned the hard way.