Cut the Shit

Oh. It’s You. The Reminder of My Past Self

If you’re a blogger, you spend countless hours sitting around thinking about what your next post is going to be. More often than not, those great ideas never come to fruition, because when you sit down to write, you end up going with your heart. That’s what’s happened to me today.

I woke up this morning and realized that my cable TV and DSL were offline. Rather than do my usual routine of sitting in the living room and watching my morning program, I sat in the dark and smoked an extra cigarette, the deafening silence and darkness ripping at my soul.

I called Time Warner and was told that my building is experience an “outage” and most likely will be restored before 6pm tonight. I can only hope.

I left for work, felt incredibly anxious on the subway, and sat at my desk, bored to tears. With all of that extra time to contemplate my life, I about sent myself into a complete downward spiral by lunchtime. I did what only an experienced depressed boy does. I went to a restaurant with my book and drank some wine and ate a cheeseburger. Man, it felt good, considering that I’ve been trying to eat healthy these days.

But then I got back to work and this incredible sadness set in. I’m talking - to the guttural roots of your insides - kind of sadness. If I could puke it out and rid myself of the toxin I would. Unfortunately, this is exactly what depression feels like and it’s been so long since I’ve had a crash that I almost didn’t recognize it for what it is.

The physical body ache, the mental obsession with failure, the self-absorbed thought that no one would care if I went home and took a hundred sleeping pills.

It’s the ugliest of mindsets that a person can have and for a while I lived with it daily. Since the start of this year, I’ve felt so strong, so capable…so…content. Of course I have bad days and I do tend to cry more than the average person (privately, obviously)…but ultimately, I haven’t felt hopeless.

Today I do. No matter how desperately I try to shake it free, concentrating on its removal almost makes it worse, more intense.

The shittiest part about this feeling is that I have no one at work that I can casually talk to about it. I’ve established myself as the guy who is a listener, not a speaker. I trust no one here with my heart and because of that I have no one to turn to when I feel so down and out.

Usually I would think…I’ll run home, turn on the TV, make myself a drink or dinner or both and relax. But there is no TV. There is no computer. There is only my phone. Which, in all honesty, is the last thing I want to use when I feel like this.

It might be home and right to bed for this boy tonight.