©2021 Michael Raven
Once again, I’ll reiterate that I’m going through “a spell”. Seems like we have that record on repeat quite a bit lately, huh? And, in case my euphemism is unclear — I’m unwell with respect to mental health.
Break is an example of my lack of being “okay”. I owe everyone who reads here something in the way of explanation as to what triggered that post this late morning/early afternoon.
Over the past few days, I’ve been experiencing a dissociative sensation (I won’t lump it in with the the actual disorder, as I don’t don’t how much of it is defensive in nature). For the better part of this time, I’ve been feeling increasingly “slippery” and “floaty”, or like a walking ghost in real life. Add to this the fact that my chronic insomnia has returned hellbent on revenge for letting me get away with sleeping for more than 5 hours total each night, and I’ve been sleeping closer to two or three hours a night and playing negative messages on repeat in my head while I sit in the Lay-Z-Boy recliner wondering why my body seems to prefer to be awake at 3 am more than any other time of the day or night. And mostly not eating except for dinner because… the idea of food fills me with nausea the past half-year or so. I mostly choke down dinner and maybe a bowl of oatmeal for lunch.
Then you add a lifetime of dysthymia (chronic low-grade depression) and a situational bout of deeper depression since Christmas, on top of a high-stress work situation (massive undertaking with inadequate amount of time to meet the deadline), various internet or network issues making meeting the impossible deadline even less likely to meet, and you have a big potential storm brewing.
For spice, we’ll add several daughters who are all having different types of difficulty accepting the general facts of life and a few cats determined to test everyone’s sanity by trolling you while you walk because it is nearly meal time and you have a potentially perfect storm. It is one of those days that, if I still smoked, I would have made it through a pack before noon and be working on my second pack already by the time my meltdown occurred. If I was still drinking, I would have used the excuse that it was 5 o’clock somewhere.
All I needed was a catalyst.
Well, amazingly enough, life decided to toss one to me today. I got a stressor that decided to broadside me when I was already Not Feeling Very Stable to begin with. That stressor didn’t directly impact me (initially, as far as I know), but I got wrapped up in trying to help fix the problem and had a bit of a nervous meltdown/breakdown as a result. So I rage-quit the world (in other areas outside of here as well that I’m in no rush to return to; e.g., Facebook), because it is the larger world that provided the catalyst.
The result of that was my last post. 100% meltdown mode.
Afterwards, I listened to one of the most depressing albums of all time (Pornography, by The Cure, for anyone interested) at a volume loud enough to make even the asshole cats stay away from me, another loud play of Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division (with a bonus repeat play of New Dawn Fades: “a loaded gun won’t set you free/or so you say”), and general hair rending, followed by cocooning…
In the past few hours I’ve pulled myself out of the meltdown. Mostly, anyway.
Yes, I am in counselling. No, I don’t think it’ll be fixed quickly. Will I take an extended break? Probably not, but I may be posting things more to private instead of public. Or password-protected for those people I don’t mind seeing my insanity in full bloom — assuming that anyone like that exists.
I need to write. It does keep the insanity mostly at bay until I do get reins on what is causing it. As poor as my writing often can be.
I would have deleted the previous post, but too many people have already seen it — so why bother?
So I owe y’all an explanation (see above) and an apology for not catching myself before having my meltdown and foisting such posts on you without warning at all. Sorry about my unseemly episode.