some people have too much free time…
Bummin’ hard. We were supposed to be flying out to London tonight/tomorrow AM.
Instead, we’ll be at home, wishing we were at Nick’s wedding.
There was a thing on tumblr last night that I was too lazy to screen grab about Americans loving the whole British thing because of tv shows and how we’re stupid and blah blah blah.
Maybe some Americans are like that, but I have *cough* years of history with London.
I went there in high school and I LOVED it.
I went after my father died and I LOVED it.
I dragged Jamie there a few years ago and we LOVED it.
There’s something about the city that grabs me the same way Boston does.
I still don’t know how or when we’re going to move there… but I know we have to. It’s where I belong in this next phase of my life.
It looks like a Christmas trip there might actually be a reality… and this has NOTHING to do with the timing. Nope.
i could stare at this for hours
HOURS, I SAY!
just another night on tumblr
All I’m going to say about the Boston Marathon is that it hit a little too close to home.
Scott is safe and that’s all that matters
Andy is safe and that’s all that matters.
Nick is safe and that’s all that matters.
dipping back into the well, i ‘spose.
So… In the past two days, I posted about trying to see the depression through someone else’s eyes and coming out of the bipolar closet, and then this happened:
But, the point here is I’m absolutely stunned at what’s out there, the shaming of it all. I’ve been always up front about my melancholic nature because I don’t think it’s helpful living “in a closet” about any big aspect of your life - and it helps people understand that it’s not their fault, nor mine, though I make every attempt to keep the depression hounds out of the lives of others.
A friend of mine suggested that I write something from my point of view because, surprisingly, I manage to give an outwards impression of having my shit together. I was shocked to hear this. And I find this comical, but I see her point. I’m functioning. I’ve adapted. I’m surprisingly okay. I think the medical term is “resilient”.
The thing is, we never speak up around this kind of foolishness, we never talk back to the Naturally Happy people who keep telling us what to do and how to be. And I’ve made some promises to some people to find the words to retort this endless and unhelpful cycle of feeling worse because we can’t just adopt better habits.
Should I revisit the depression? The crushing soul sucking depression that being unemployed brought on? Should I talk about the nonstop crying?
I’m always going to discuss it. I’m always going to link to things that sum up the depression in ways I can’t.
Because it needs to be said. Because we need to remove the stigma.
Because depression lies.
Because none of us are alone.
(I guess this means I’m coming out of the closet when someone asks about Katniss on Monday.)
i know about the pr0n