*Maniacal Cackling* [Journal 5-8-17]

Hozier – Take Me To Church.

I doubt I’ve specifically stated the reasoning behind my approach to depression. Many people address depression by keeping themselves busy, seeking psychiatric help, medication, drugs, exercise, relationships romantic and otherwise, cultism religion, etc. For me, these are all inviable, as they don’t actually address the problem.

Being inherently physically and mentally robust, my depression comes from unpleasant perspectives rather than neurologic deformity. In my specific case, my differences with humanity depress me. In short: in seeing the world as dismal, I am robbed of the desire to live. If that perspective is correct –which I consistently attempt, and desperately hope, to disprove– there is nothing I can do to distract myself from that fact.

Being sane, I can’t lie to myself. I can be wrong, but that’s temporary. I can be overly optimistic, but accept contrary evidence as a friend. I can run from reality, temporarily distracting myself, but always know I’m doing so. But I don’t have the capacity nor desire to self-deceive. This, paired with the source of my depression, leaves me only the option I’ve taken – consciously controlling my emotional responses to the unpleasant perspective.

Plus, look at the logic of it. The aforementioned methods of approaching depression, which do not serve me, are merely stopgap. In the longrun, utilizing those methods weakens me. Whereas deepening my metacognitive capacity enriches myself. In reality, this is the only health choice – unless you’ve got one hell of a therapist.

Thankfully, a familiarity with metacognition, and a tendency to prepare for the worst, left me mentally and financially prepared to deal with this breakdown. For those whom lack the resources available to me: I sympathize; do what you must.

That aside, interesting changes are occurring. I’m waking more and more invigorated, approaching degrees towhich I previously did, when working crushing hours in highly demanding skilled labor. My thoughts are clearing, beginning to grant me the furious and fluid thought I once possessed. And, it seems, my [kidneys] are beginning to function correctly again: I can feel vigorous bloodflow in that area, coincidentally while my mind functions at predepression rates – I’m still smoking allot.

In short: I’m gaining substantial control of the self-oppressing subconscious processes which have ruled me this last year. I’m beginning to regain the evisceratingly mischievous, childishly silly, and patriarchal demeanor which is my default character.

The intelligent among you will see my usage of “patriarchal” as evidence of said change: I could have used other words to define a protective and nurturing leader, but chose the one most likely to be completely misinterpreted by populist idiots – simultaneously upsetting them and disproving their pathetic attempts at reasoning with the usage of a single word. Buah. Buahah. BUAHAHAHA!!1one

I’ll try not to inflict too much of my humor on you poor, simple souls – if I indeed return to myself. You are my precious vectors, afterall. Ok, no more joking; people have a hard enough time understanding me when I’m holding their fucking hands. Though, I suppose, stirring serious discomfort among my readers would provide an excellent example of why people hate me so much. Hmm. No, you only get the tip for now. Breath deep; I’ll go slow.


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~ by Louis Naughtic on May 8, 2017.

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