I’m no stranger to depression, and I’m glad everyone is talking about it. As I said elsewhere
I, for one, am glad we’re talking about this. Depression lies and not even fame and fortune can drown it out. Of course, his decision wasn’t right, but he apparently felt like it is all he had. And the very fact that so many were touched by his life and feeling the loss proves that he was wrong. Proves that he did mean something to so many people. Maybe someone else that is feeling so alone can hear that message and make a better choice. Calling it selfish is cruel over-simplification. Instead, lets point out the ripples of heartache and pain. Focus on the brilliance and the gifts bestowed on all of us. The tragedy of it all is that he forgot. Depression’s lies drowned out everything else for him.
There are many of us out there that fight with depression on a regular basis. The extroverts among us usually hide it pretty well. To see someone that seemed to be winning that battle lose it after so many years is rough. I haven’t seen anyone celebrating or glorifying his death, instead pointing out the tragedy of a life ended too soon.
The pain of depression is very, very real. The desire to end it all to make it go away is strong. Don’t. Even if you escape your demons in the end, you leave them for someone else. Someone you love will find you and they will have to deal with not only your remains but the very demons you hoped to silence. And some new ones as well.
When it feels like it is too much, get help. It probably is too heavy for you to lift alone. One man couldn’t lift a train, but it was nothing when the burden was shared. Your load is no different, and you will be amazed at how many will volunteer to lift it.
Depression lies. Depression tells you that you are alone and that you don’t matter. It tells you that no one cares. Depression kills but only if you let it. Only if you listen. Depression speaks with the devil’s tongue.
You, the real you-the one behind the mask, matter. Peek around that wall. You are not alone. Your spark is precious.
Yesterday, depression lied to 22 veterans and 1 Robin Williams. The monkey stopped dancing, and I’m not laughing. Tomorrow it will lie to more people. We need to keep talking about it. Maybe if we do, we’ll start to drown out the lies.
Jenny, the Blogess, linked a piece she wrote earlier this year that deserves re-reading. I’ll just leave you with her words.
Tell someone that you love them, or that they’re important. And tell yourself. Because it’s true.
Me: So, there’s going to be a new Mad Max
EvylRobot: What? I thought you just said there was going to be a new Mad Max
Me: I did
ERt: Please tell me it’s not Mel Gibson
Me: It’s not
ER: Oh good.
As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I share my home with a number of fuzzy critters. Said fuzzy critters tend shed. They also like to snuggle my laptop.
Yes, that is 50 pounds of feline piled up there. Our kitties are super-sized.
As you can imagine, my laptop has a tendency to develop some over-heating issues from time to time. So I’ve made it a habit to take it apart regularly to blow out the cat hair.
Reasonable, right? And this last time, I finished with no extra screws!
Go team Jennifer!
Except, not. You see, my poor abused laptop has seen better days. It continues to run like a champ, but the casing is all cracked and one of the screw holes is completely stripped out. The little metal doo-hickey* with the threads actually fell out. Thus, this spot can no longer hold a screw.
And yet, no extra screws. Hmm. ‘Tis a conundrum.
I guessing I lost a screw somewhere along the way**, and that empty hole has now been filled in with the should have been extra screw.
Oh well. Laptop seems to plugging away once again and running as cool as it should so hopefully I can get to some of my posting backlog. I’ve got cosplay pics to share!
*It’s a technical term
**Yes, it has been confirmed. I do, indeed, have a screw loose.
Can I call you Al? I mean, we’ve been through so much these nearly 36 years now. I mean, I’ve shared all 35 of my birthdays with you. I think I should be able to skip the formalities at this point. Besides, you’ve been recording for my entire life. You aren’t Weird, you are just the Al I’ve always known and loved.
That is, until recently. You see, I assumed that even though I’ve pointed out our shared date of birth on multiple occasions, I’ve somehow flown under your radar. At least Think Geek noticed.
And then you did this:
So maybe it IS just a coincidence that you went and threw a birthday party for my favorite pony. Have you seen my socks?
And then you did this
Really, Al? You had to call me out like that? Oh don’t think I didn’t notice. Kim Kardasian’s birthday is two days prior to yours and mine. That’s a completely different zodiac sign.
No, you aren’t Weird to me. Not anymore. Now you’re Passive Aggressive Al.
Your “lame” fan,
PS. I still bought your album (Congrats on being #1)
PPS. You could totally make it up to me. My darling husband has some ideas to get our readers involved.
Put on some four inch heels.
Add some wishful thinking
And then dash your own hopes by proving that the file cabinet is apparently not Jennifer proof.
Drive home in rush hour with smashed and swelling finger extended.
Because of course it would be that finger*.
Have a delicious dinner that pales in comparison to even more delightful company. Nothing better than embracing a good friend for the first time. Except maybe the gazillionth time because one can never overflow that particular cup. Share all the laughs and stories that make a tribal gathering great.
Finish the evening with a bourbon on the patio considering a jacket in July, completely forgetting to pull the evening’s pictures off of your camera. (See that link? Brigid has pictures up. Go see hers. No, I’m not really that tall. Remember the shoes?)
Open the windows to enjoy the unseasonably cool weather.
Yeah, it was a good day. I’m calling it a win.
*Didn’t break it. Just bruised it. Most of the swelling was gone by morning.
Why did it take me so long to discover the deliciousness that is pickled quail eggs? You remember the eggs, right? So we pickled the last of the quail eggs. 50ish, I believe.
Yum! Absolutely perfect savory goodness. So good, in fact, that I haven’t paused between removing them from the jar and shoving them in my mouth to get you a picture.
Ok, so a couple may have taken a detour into a martini, but since there are no pictures, it didn’t happen. That’s what the internet told me. So obviously, since it didn’t happen, it must happen because the non existent martini was delicious.
There’s currently a jar of chicken eggs pickling with beets in the fridge because pink pickled deviled eggs must happen. Hopefully, I will be able to refrain from shoving them in my face long enough to get you a picture or two.
You know, I’ve made some pretty great thrift store finds, but my brother made the best one. And seeing as how there’s a no return policy, he married her yesterday. I even polished up my horns for the occasion. It’s not every day a girl gets a new sister, you know.
Congratulations, big brother. Here’s to many happy years!
Oh yeah. I guess that happens when a place has been uninhabited for a bit. I really am still around. I’ll be back soon. Currently, all the brain cells are wrapped up in system conversion and closing a legacy system. I could talk to you at length about tcodes and layouts and variants and defects, but you really don’t care whether or not that file made it to ftp site.
And that’s okay.
I have been making some kind of attempt at kinda sorta keeping up with what’s going on outside the office.
This? I have no words. Everything is wrong with this. My prayers are with the poor child.
And this. Right. Great idea there. Let’s release some bonafide bad guys so we can get a soldier back that left on his own accord and got other soldiers killed in the process. I feel so warm and fuzzy.
Is anyone else starting to wonder if these open carry guys have been planted by Bloomberg? Hey morons, stop helping! It pains me that I have to clarify that I’m not talking about you guys that open carry handguns in holsters. Yes, TX needs open carry. Print up some eye catching t-shirts and go clean up graffiti in a park for your activism. Strap on some empty holsters while you’re at it.
And it’s National Hug Your Cat Day. Since I have three with a combined total weight of 50lbs, I’ll handle the hugging for those of you that don’t have cats or are averse the the whole bleeding profusely thing. You’re welcome.
You’d think we’d be getting tired of all the egg dishes we’ve been eggs-perimenting with. You’d be wrong.
This gives me hope for humanity. Butterfly in the sky. I can go twice as high…