A LOT of my friends seem to be posting pretty introspective things on the various social medias today – I guess it’s just a day for it. We’re all gasping in collective relief with the sudden break from the heat wave and thinking about how the world is ending as Robert Mueller repeats himself, Donald Trump throws tantrums and those same platforms that friends use for self-expression continue to help the world burn.
Oh. Maybe that’s just me?
Melodrama? Perhaps. I’m thinking about friendships and networks and kind of worrying about how my efforts to bring people closer have been outlived by my efforts just to tread water in this world.
When I was a kid in high school – my mother medicated, my family history being explained, I went through Some Stuff and was offered x y and z medications… I held off, probably mostly out of pride – I had some very specific views about what drugs did to the mind mostly because of some horrific experiences at parties, seeing that chemicals made my friends unrecognizable and being unable to draw the line between prescribed drugs and messed up mixed up chemicals brought to teenage gatherings…
Well, the doctor was adamant that if I didn’t start taking the above x, y or z to help with my moods that I’d be dead by the age of thirty.
And I didn’t. And I’m not. But I DO wonder how different my Life could’ve been if I’d gone ahead with ALLOWING them to place those labels on me.
NOWADAYS everyone has a label. Everyone and their mother is OCD. Everyone and their father has an Anxiety Disorder. I got depressed, but with doctors’ notes I could’ve been Depressed and could post and repost some REALLY MEANINGFUL statuses! I could not just feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest so I had to wake up at 4am, I could have people’s sympathy because I’ve got Anxiety. I could not just spend the whole day getting nothing done because nothing seems worth doing, I could have people understand that I’m Depressed. The list goes on and on and on – but I’ve muddled through these feelings for 30+ years, I can continue muddling through them. I’ve got an outlet, I’ve got a reason to exist, and these chemicals, off-balance and all, are a part of me. I’ve just got to try to keep making them work.
Not even my new Daggit took me out of my sadness for the open mic on Monday the 22nd – which is a shame. 
