Here I am, trying again. Again to find a place to express my thoughts and feelings. A place where jamoalki can find life. As is life, this will be a journey. Only this journey does not have a destination. Well, this part of my overall journey doesn't. I, jamoalki, have a destination, improved mental health. Yep, I'm a crazy. A kookoo. Unbalanced. Depressed. Suicidal. I don't fit in.
These are just some of the labels that I've used for myself in the past. The PC truth of it is that I have depression. I have attempted to kill myself. I struggle with finding day to day places where I feel comfortable, much less a life I feel comfortable in. I'd like to get out on the rooftop and scream that I am not a mental health label, that I am a person, a valid person with strengths and weaknesses, thoughts and feelings. But I don't believe it.
Intellectually I'm there. I have bones, muscles, blood, hair and all the trappings of a physical body, a person. I am capable of independent thoughts, biases and opinions, a valid person.Emotionally and intuitively, though, I don't allow myself to be validated. I don't trust the thoughts I have as being genuinely mine. I am unable to to decipher if my interests and drives are what I really enjoy, or if I'm following the same script I have been for as long as I can recall. Since before depression. The foggy time that I can't yet bring to the fore, long before I became jamoalki.
Let's play the K3 game. This is where I'm visited by a race of beings that have achieved Type 3 on the Kardashev Scale (look it up) and they offer me the life that I've always wanted. All I have to do is describe to them what that looks like. Sounds great, right? Any lifestyle I want. And knowledge I want. Any level of work/life I prefer. Surrounded by all the people I want. I couldn't get anywhere past my girls and my wife. Anything in the universe I want would be mine. The only certainties I have are with those 5 females. Everything else, food, sports, entertainment, other family, friends, weather, clothing, soap scent...on and on, I can't honestly say with a comfortable level of assurance that X or Y is what I want.
I brought this up in a group therapy session and had it dismissed as "really an existential kind of problem, not something we should be focusing on". Strictly speaking, this does sound like like a meaning of life type problem. A midlife crisis of sorts. I'm working everyday to get an elbow ahead of this depression, a glimpse of the reflection of the light around the bend at the end of the tunnel. It's hard, so hard. I'm scared I'll find myself in a situation, again, where ending it all doesn't just seem like a good option, but the path. Not an either or or choice, but a simple matter of fact. A typical Tuesday, drop the kids off at school, put a load of laundry in the washer, wipe down the counters and jump off a bridge. It was just that ordinary for me. But how do I get ahead of such a monster if not only does nothing truly interest me (outside of the 5 females), but I don't have a fucking clue if I'm on the correct path to find pleasure? Watching basketball (sorry first grade Alexandria, basketball was my first love) feels as entertaining as cleaning the gutters and as interesting as trying to read about actuary tables. I find myself laughing almost exclusively from laugh track cues while watching TV. I feel I could spend 3 months getting back together with basketball, playing, watching and reading about, or three months trying something new, and at the end of that time, be right in the same detached, uninspired state.
My inner voice is already telling me this post is stupid. That everything I've mentioned is either explained poorly or insignificant. This is the point where I post and then never read it again. Only to delete it in 2 months and strip out the blog. Get rid of the evidence of my worthless time spent.
I'm going to make an assumption I don't believe is true. Today I am saying to myself THIS will matter. DOES matter. Maybe I can stick it out this time, and find out along the that way I matter.