spilled milk

Found on Reddit: most accurate description of what I’m up against here:

A large part of how I experience depression is like when you have the flu, and you feel weaker than you are, and when you try to make a fist or grip something you just can’t.

That’s how you’re whole body feels, it’s how your mind feels, it’s how your emotions feel, it’s how your relationships feel, and it’s how life feels. You have that obvious awareness that you are, in reality, much stronger than that. But at that moment it’s just not there, and you can’t get it back, and each morning you wake up you check to see if you’re strength is back, and it’s not. And you’re disappointed with your own inability, and you’re ashamed to show people that you don’t have the strength to grip and pick up the jug of milk, so you try to hide it and pick it up anyway, and you can hold onto it for so long, and then, unavoidably, your grip gives way, it falls to the ground, and it spills all over the fucking place.

So if you’re one of the many people who are wondering why I haven’t [insert thing I’ve failed to do that I said I would], … I have a bit of a mess to clean up.

8 thoughts on “spilled milk

  1. I missed you.
    Got a mess over here, too. Big stupid nasty mess I got to watch being made while not-so-carefully chemically[and otherwise] restrained from ducking same. Not yet really recovered, but I’ve got quite a bit of my head back, most of my identity except for a majority-sized chunk of yonder expressions of it, and once I drop the notion that a lawyer might help and start writing my own subpoenas [which spelling makes me itchy.why do we not say “subpoenae”? similarly “forae”? see: inching back, I am] and can wiggle my nose around the wee shriveled yet strangely immovable obtacle-to-prosecution testes of the Berkeley Police, the diverse premarital caches that would allow for medical insurance might help to reconstitute some of this hands-foot-knees-spine-organs-creepy-trauma-attendant-allergy slurry. So, you know: look out, world.

    Again: miss you. Way the heck beyond glad to see you out there / here.
    Know of what you speak, with not-as-palatable-it-sounds garnishment: Rx contraindicated, what with all the serotonin syndrome that got me hereish. And [long stream-of-cryptic milk-of-kindness-of-observant-survived-strangers’ advice later]: “Its not that you’re clinically this or that, so much, but more that your life kind of sucks.”
    Just need a friend or two with good reach and noteworthy grip, and I think I should be along more or less presently.
    DV is way more than weird. Unimaginable, as there’s nothing to attach any imaginings to, as no one ever really talks about it, ’cause dude: that shit’s unbelievable, and too-readily displaced and blame-attached by fables of more just worlds.
    It gains one almost nothing, costs kind of everything, so far, but its right and by effing gum can be made better, and while it sucks when out of nowhere some stranger understands, horrific for reals understands, still: there they are. With pulmonary function, and everything. Gently touching your shoulder, whispering “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” then retreating ’cause no one likes to cry in public. And we’re all alone, in private. Even the ones with kids. I can’t…
    Its a good thing I can still write. I think.
    Anyway… Yeah.


  2. Ive wondered about you for a long time. Both you and Dan dropped out of sight, probably for the same reasons. I had my dark time too and so remember how it felt. The black dog is never really so far away.

    I’m still out here, waiting and listening for the Liz to return. Hang in there friend. I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready.

  3. Ruminator! Are you still blogging? Good to see you around!

    I would love to find Dan, I miss him sooooo much. Those were the days, though.

    Now … HOLYSHIT IT’S JESSICA. I honestly would have never, ever expected, but here you are! Where are you writing? Where did your writing go?

    You know the both of you were integral parts of shifting my worldview, your words were such huge influences on me. So I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for that.


  4. I am still blogging, at least some. The posts aren’t as frequent as they once were, but I’m striving for quality when I write. I’m still in the same old digs as I was when you were bouncing all over ‘net world. 🙂 Mostly I’m playing with images on Instagram (@drdbt if you’re there) and keeping track of my kids on Facebook . I try to write something substantial once each week (on my weblog, my journals are very busy these days).

    I had a couple of emails with Dan over at the Timesink. Things were not going so well for him, but I’m still hoping he pulls through and emerges from the other side.

    I moved (literally) a bit more than five-years ago to western Nevada to work near the mountains. I’m probably close enough to Dan to visit, if he ever takes the notion.

    We Z-listers were a pretty tight and rowdy group several years ago, weren’t we? I don’t think you ever were there, but Thursday-evening chats were so much fun. Of course, I had to be the evil punster. 🙂

    I am pleased that I was of service. That’s important to me. But you’re the one who’ll do all the hard work. I remember my time through that very well.

    In any event, I’m so glad to see your words again. Welcome back… 🙂

  5. Z-listers — haven’t heard that in forever, in fact, I’d actually forgotten. That brought back such a flood of … things.

    I’m still struggling with getting myself to write, but in my defense I also have to blog at work so … no that’s not a defense.

    Big Z-list reunion would be pretty awesome though. Even a virtual one.

  6. Well, if you’re up for it, here’s a couple of thoughts from an old man who’s done the depression thing.

    There’s a fine line to walk between setting reasonable writing goals (for your personal space) and being obsessive about it. I’ve done both. The former is much better; the latter not so much.

    Second, this place should be something that builds you, somehow. The words you park here should be those that make your internal life a little better, for whatever reason. They might be hard words to get out (and some of those belong to your offline journal) and some might be funny, or beautiful, or insightful. (I’ve seen you do all three of those things, by the way. 🙂 )

    There are some folks from the Z-Listers that would be fun to hang out with again. Now I wonder whether I have any transcripts of those chats from so many years ago. I’ll have to go look… but later.


  7. Yeah, the schedule thing went a whole two days before collapsing under its own ill-advisedness, and my schedule which is insane.

    I’d love to see those chat logs 🙂

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