Every time I’m sitting down to write about my post-christmas-depression treatment I find myself procrastinating over Facebook memes and listening to really cheerfull music and totally screwing up my unhappy vibes. It’s impossible to write about how sad I was at the end of last year when I’m listening to Bonny M, Amira Willighagen or Captain Hook. Hey, let’s listen to Patrick Hernandez Born to be alive and have a good cry, shall we?! Nope! Music doesn’t work that way, but I’m still dying! It just came to my knowledge. I am dying! Slowly! Painfully! In fully awareness of the beauty in everything, and the horror of living; I’m dying! I want to live before I die, and I want to live well, so I asked myself what can I do to feel just a little better right here right now?
The skin around my eyes were swollen and red and wrinkled and itchy from hours of crying every day for weeks, so I said to myself; Put some slices of cucumber on those eyelids, love, and put some colours on your toenails. Make something nice to your friends who never stopped listening to your negativity, your bitterness, your hatered and your anxiety. Buy them glasses you’ve desperatly needed for 10 years and some new make up you’ll rarely use. Go see that movie where you attend as an extra, and spend some hours at a museum of modern art. Have a laugh, go for a swim, take up drawing, take your cat for a walk. Do whatever makes you feel a little better right here and right now. So I did. And it worked. I even binge watched Game of Thrones a season a day for 8 days until my brain couldn’t adjust to another show, or reality for that matter, and I am so darn relaxed and happy!
I still cry a little once in a while. This deep, crushing darkness in my heart was severely harsh this time in view of the fact that I’m a prisoner of conscience in a golden cage, fighting a system corrupted by greedy criminals with titles and badges and unhindered power in this land of happiness and cross country skiing and chess players with weird eyebrows and manipulative arseholes in government, where an increasing number of people are being supressed in poverty and psychological terror. Well… Fuck’em!!! My own suffering is only due to me not willingly letting go of the belief in the good in every human. There’s a truly solid difference between empathy and sympathy, and understanding the situation of another person does not aquire my solicitude. It’s quite alright to not give a fuck about some idiot suffering the consecquenses of his or her actions. Let them drown in their self-inflicted misery, and help them die faster if you can. Now, that would be an action of mercy in lack of heartfelt compassion.
And then there was food. I’ve had health issues since 2006 because of food. Or rather my bodys disability to digest food. Certain kinds of food. Certain kinds of food I couldn’t figure out what was. And then finally my new medic diagnosed me with IBS last autumn. Yes, several doctors and experts spent 13 years NOT figuring out were the problem lies. That’s more than 1/4 of my entire life! Impressive, don’t you think? Well, my new care taker did the math in 5 minutes because “someone” hasn’t found out who she is yet, so “someone” hasn’t had the opportunity to threaten or beat her up. (Wouldn’t you just love to hear what that’s all about? You will! Soon! I promise!)
Anyway… I had to change my diet, so I did. Frenetic focused on FODMAP I went into battle towards my diseas. All I was thinking about was a plan for every meal. I food-focused my depression back to the hell pit it came from, and it worked. At least so far. I’ve lost 11 pounds (5kg), I sleep through the night, the cronic pain from my toes to the roots of my hair is gone, and I feel better all over. I still suffer from cronic stalkers who threatens me and my cat, but they wouldn’t dare touching me if their lives were depending on it, so fuck them as well!
Now I just need to go shopping for a new dildo…
365 sober days 