In Which I Scare the Dog, and She Gets Revenge

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ Go to this blog. Oh my goodness I have not laughed so hard in ages. It has been seriously helping me de-angst myself, because you can't feel sorry for yourself while you're hurting your face and scaring your dog because of how hard you're laughing.

The fluffy white dog is giving me a look from the other side of my apartment, in her bed where she sleeps, and it is an utterly confused and disturbed face. She has no idea why The Boss keeps squeaking and snurfling and making strange sounds. Eventually she gets used to the noises and she goes to sleep but I suspect that in her fluffy doggy head she knew she would have her inevitable revenge.

Cut-scene to about an hour later.
Me, still snickering quietly over Hyperbole and a Half. Her, my floofy roommate, innocently curled on her furniture-moving-pad bed in the corner of the Main room...

( I should say at this point that my apartment is small. It has five rooms. Four, technically. A kitchen nook that is part of a huge Main room, which I have tried to use my furniture to break up into a dining area, a reading area and a couch and movie area- A bedroom- A teeny tiny bathroom- and the Studio. That's it. I can see the dog's bed in the Main room from my own bed if my bedroom door is open, as it usually is, since the dog doesn't care if she sees me in just a t-shirt and scottish-plaid panties.)

So I'm in bed doing some reading and suddenly there's this horrible smell. A smell wafting around my rooms, a smell no human could produce. And I squint through the dark and Miss Floof is curled innocently in her bed, eyes shut, paws twitching in semi-concious glee at the discomfort she might be aware she's causing me. If anyone ever tells you dogs cannot fart, smack them for me.

In Which I Angst a Little, Some More.

Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And Heaven knows
I'm not that girl

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl...

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart:
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl....

(Lyrics from musical "Wicked")


Why do I have to fall so hard for wonderful guys who would never imagine I'd be interested, and certainly never dream of being with me? I try to hint, try to speak to him, try to smile at him whenever I see him, try to meet his eyes and let my eyes say something about what I feel, about how I could love him... And then I have to smile when he shows up with a cheerful, beautiful woman on his arm, because he's wonderful, and she's wonderful too, and they are so wonderful together, and how could I have ever thought I would be a fit match for him...

In Which I Tell You about Depression

"Oh, yeah, I was depressed once. I was so sad I couldn't go to this great concert that I stayed in my room for, like, three days."

Traumatic as that maybe, I'm sure, it's not Depression. People can feel sad for what they think is a long time without having depression.
Sadness is when your life is difficult.
Mourning is when you lose someone or something you love and you go through a long process of the emotional effects of your loss.
Depression is when, even if your life is fantastic, multifigure salary, great car, easy job, you can't FEEL anything BUT emptiness or misery or pain.

Having money does not solve it.
Other people do not solve it.
Positive Thinking and getting told to Snap Out of It or Just Keep Trying Harder does not solve it.

Even the wonderful things you used to enjoy doing take effort and will you no longer have. Some people lose the will to live. You physically cannot experience sustained contentment or happiness.

To someone who is Depressed, Do NOT say:
Can't you just quit being so selfish? (Depressed people are often lonely and want a connection with other people)
Well, set your alarm, and just get yourself out of bed!
Power on through it, yeah? You gotta keep trying harder and it'll go away. Try not to be so miserable.(You would never say this to a person with cancer, would you?)
You're not fun to be with anymore. (Or this?)
You're only hurting yourself. You're missing out on so many wonderful things in life! (As if they are doing it on purpose, or need to be told how much joy other people can have that they can't.)
Have you tried yoga/prozac/not being depressed? (Helpful suggestions are rarely helpful, and there is no magic pill to make it just vanish.)
If you exercised more you'd be fine. (While activity releases endorphins, this is not helpful to someone who barely has the will to get up each day and move about, let alone go work out, alone in their mental emptiness)
If you don't get your act together, how are you ever going to get a date/be there for your spouse/raise children? (People with mental illnesses are well aware of what impact that has on their relationships in life. Trust me, they don't need reminders of their loneliness and the social stigma they have to live with.)
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Life's not fair. It isn't all about you. There's always someone worse off than you are. (Other than accusing the person of low moral character, these words accomplish nothing.)
If you'd just take my advice and ----- you'd do so much better! (You're probably not a psychologist and odds are good you do not understand what this person is going through completely enough to give them a simple cure.)
You're at a party/with friends/with family, can't you be happy? Don't you love us?
It's your own fault, you know.
You do this to yourself.
People with Depression have to hear these kinds of things every day from their own inner demons as well as friends and relatives. Don't add to their pain by "helping" like this.


What to say if you CARE about someone who has Depression:

I'm here for you.
Even though I don't understand what you're going through, I'm going to stick with you.
I won't give up on you.
Is there anything I can do for you to help you? (DON"T SAY IT UNLESS YOU MEAN IT. They may need help that is not convenient or easy, like handling chores at their house, or having you watch their kids or pet for a little while)
Do you want to just come over and spend some time here with me? No strings attached. (Sometimes a depressed person doesn't need hugs, or advice, but just someone else around who cares.)
When this is over I'll be here, and so will you. I know you can hang on through this, even though it hurts.
You're not going crazy.
You don't need to worry that your pain might hurt or offend me. I understand this is nobody's fault.
You are important to me, and I just wanted to take a moment to see if you're doing okay.
What you are going through is not just an inconvenience to me. I don't mind making a little time for you.
I care about you.
I don't have to understand it to know that it hurts you, and I'll be here for you.

People with depression don't need very much. They don't need coaching from you, or clever solutions, or for you to try to fix a problem that you cannot fix. They need a few minutes of your time, to know you care, to know you are willing to be there for them as just an anchor and support. Don't try to fix them, just support them, and sometimes help them get help from qualified sources. Most of all, Be there, with empathy and compassion.

In which I Try to Get Life Back in Line: Labor Day.

I feel like I'm always playing catch-up, juggling every day to try to get to birthdays, events, dinners, bills, taxes, vacations, obligations, all around my work hours, and somehow in between find time for the art that keeps me sane. I want family time and friend time, but I also have obligations and money-things like taxes and not-fun stuff like bills and rent and managing worky stuff.

I have a new job of sorts and I am in love with it even though it's demanding- I work at a local Motion Picture Studio now, and they are doing a series of episodes from the New Testament.
I am an Art Dept. Go-to, which is like a go-fer but more productive. It means that my boss decorates the set and he needs stuff for it, and if he doesn't have time to have someone else make the stuff, he comes to me and says, "Can you make me this?" and I say, "Yep, I can do that!", which is my arting motto. So far he has liked my work *squee* which is for me a huge thing because if he likes my stuff I've done, they will likely call me in for other projects too, and I will get to keep working there. Every day is a new challenge, and it's something I've inadvertently trained for since High School- limited time, limited materials, and a need for a certain outcome and historical look, Go! I am an expert at this! Making do and getting results from faked or limited material is what I do best! I am so ridiculously happy to have everything I've been doing with my art and reenactment for these last few years suddenly have work application! I have realized I want to do this the rest of my life.

...Which leaves me in a quandary as to my education. I want a degree, but in what? My nascent career in the Entertainment industry hardly requires a degree- in fact they could care less. They require results, talent, speed, reliability and ability, not a certificate saying I'm really good at writing educated papers. I know a degree is more than that, but if you can't write educated papers to specific formats, you No Can Haz, no matter how frickin brilliant you are. I am wondering if a traditional degree is even possible for me. Between my autistic tendencies in learning and communication and my anxiety and depression that totally screwed me academically, I don't know. I feel this driving idiotic lifelong need to Get A Degree so that society will see me as educated and worth employing, but the only people I want to employ me don't give a flying fart whether I have one or not. Argh.