Depression: The Art Of Motivating Yourself To Do Nothing [a blog] #whatiwrite

That's right! A sexy clown!
That’s right! A sexy clown!

What is depression? For people who don’t suffer from depression, it’s something which makes them say things like ‘Oh, what are you depressed about?’ Or, the classic, ‘We all get depressed sometimes…’ No. We all get a cold sometimes. Occasionally, we get the flu. No one has the flu every waking moment of their fucking life. You take some sick days when you have pneumonia. You don’t quit your job, never believe you’ll be good enough to hold down another one, and then fuck yourself under a moving train. So they’re different. Just a tad.

But I understand people who aren’t depressed not understanding depression. It’s erm, understandable. From the outside looking in, it probably looks like lots of other things: laziness, moaning, being an arsehole. All of those. That doesn’t happen with other things. If you’re not a soccer player, the FA Cup Final doesn’t look like a motorcycle race. If you’re not Chinese, Kung Pao Chicken doesn’t look like fish and chips.

Depressed people might seem like a bit of a drag to you, but that’s only when we’re moaning about being depressed. Not all of us do. Most of the comedians who make you laugh are famous depression sufferers. There’s a comedy that can only come out of seeing the world as a giant snowglobe filled with turds; with you lying at the bottom, hopelessly trying to make Shit Angels. Happy people can’t make you laugh, and if they do, it’s wrong of you to laugh. Because those people have Down’s Syndrome.

Depressed people are like addicts (often they are one and the same). Walk into an AA or NA meeting anywhere, and as well as hearing all the hard-luck stories in the world, from people who you probably wouldn’t trust to mind an apple stall for five minutes, you’ll meet some of the most creative, beautiful souls on Earth. An Earth which has never been a good fit for any of them, and that’s why they so often turn to the blunt instruments of alcohol and drugs in order to hammer out the dents, so they can pass through the barriers of… well this metaphor has sort of lost its way now. Much like those guys and girls at the meetings.

If you’re not a depressed person, and you know someone who is; I know it’s a fucking pain. I know that we all have our problems, and you don’t feel amazing every day, but ya get on with it, God love ya, and maybe Jim or Sally should take a leaf out of your book and do the same. I know that, and I understand. But Jim and Sally don’t like feeling like utter shit as a default. It’s not a joy for them to have to raise themselves up higher than is usually possible for them, just to get to what you’d consider The Middle. They want to be able to look at all the rose coloured glasses, and shout ‘THAT IS FUCKING HALF FULL, THAT IS! HOORAY FOR FUCKING EVERYTHING!’

But they can’t, just yet. And some of them never will. Some of them will be on shitty tablets all their lives, some of which have side effects like ‘Depression!’ or ‘Suicidal Feelings!’ Some of them will eschew modern medicine, and try to slug it out alone. The richer ones will go to a therapist, and talk it out every week, in the hope that one day, they might get out of bed in the morning without wondering how better off everyone they fucking knew would be if they just never existed. And some of them (just a little few of them) might one day have some sort of epiphany and see life from a different side of the grass. And if you’ve stuck by them, and had patience with them, and stayed for the long haul, then that day, they might be as fucking boring and perfect as you are.

Thanks for reading this one. Love you all.

Bxx

 

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