Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Closed to all but me

Sometimes when no one is looking, I squish up my face because I feel like some vague situation going on inside my head warrants that most dreaded of events: "a good cry". 

I do this a lot while in the bathroom, and I suppose if the world were watching me at that moment, they would speculate that I was straining to make a bowel movement.

The world would mistake the whiny expulsion of air, the most of crying I could make, for a suppressed eke of gas. 

Would the world approach me, hesitantly, and reach out one hand to say, go ahead and let it out?

They would have braced themselves for a subsequent round of bottom trumpets and resonant plops, but then have been secretly relieved to see I was only holding back tears.

By the world's leave, I would have begun to sob and as they comforted me, they would have let slip, "oh, I thought you were embarrassed to poop in front of us."

Am I embarrassed to poop in front of you?

Not really; you may have noticed that already if you read this blog a lot.

But...cry?


What do you know that I care?

About it?

Stupid brain.

It's your fault anyways.

You are the one who suddenly decided to stop getting out of bed in the morning.

My body still has to go to work, still has to stand in the infernal confines of shoe stores, lunchrooms, and handicap stalls. 

But you just lay about, moaning how every sky is overcast, how every song pushes the benefits of dying between its lines, how your new favorite color is depression blue.

I hate you and wish you were normal. 

You dragged me off to the doctor and made me talk about my feelings....sniff....I made a muscle at her and said I didn't have any.

Then I built a little spaceship out of Legos and called it Killdeath Laserwing.

She smiled and asked if I felt like smashing it, this thing I had built.

I sobbed that I did, and then took a long pull from my Capri Sun.

Except I was actually just a man sitting there in her examination room, confused as to why this thing, this sense of otherness, has passed over my brain and left me inexplicably sad.

This doctor had been horribly burned at some point in her life; the skin of her face was strangely smooth and pulled taut, bordered by little webs of scar tissue.

IT IS SO FUN to tell someone that has obviously borne the immense struggle of almost dying from a fire and carried on through a lifetime of disfigurement with confidence and professional poise that you are so beyond sad that waiting in line at the post office is like crab-walking down to the floor of the Grand Canyon.

Both can not be done; their impossibility puts them right out of reach. 

She doesn't say it, but I want her to, just to put all the cards on the table.

You are sad for no reason and my face was burned off.

Let's wrap this up.

Except what ever this is, this cloud, this idiot turmoil, does not cotton to perspective.

I want to shove its face into every tragedy imaginable, but all it does is shrug.

So what? it says. I am me and I am sad. Do you have any My Bloody Valentine? Cause I really just want to lay in the dark and think about how we are only particles, whirling away.

The doctor comes back in with a prescription.

Here are your waters and your watering place.
Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

I take the first one five minutes after I fill the script; it sticks in my throat for a moment, long enough for me to enjoy the headline: "Unnecessarily sad man chokes to death on Prozac."

One good swallow and we're off.

Happiness in 5, 4, 3, 2-


__________________________________________________________________________________

Before I got down and stupid, this was the real post I was working on:

I like to think of myself as pretty laid back.


But I suppose if I saw myself as the fancy shmancy world sees me, I might gain insight into how I really am.








That is as far as I got.


Hope normal is on its way.


And thank you for still reading Gweenbrick, even if it is, in the end, most notable for its inconsistency.



62 comments:

  1. Killdeath Laserwing.

    Someday I'm going to get a tattoo from a phrase seen on this blog. The list of choices is just getting too long though. Please stop being articulate and compelling and hilarious and completely entertaining so I can just get a skull or something instead.

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    1. Thanks Alan! What about a tattoo of a green thumb? eh? eh?

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  2. Replies
    1. You are nice to say that...I hate it when I post something semi-serious because I feel guilty that people might actually feel sorry for me.
      But I am glad you still read this silliness, Elpoo

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  3. At least you're consistently inconsistent.

    And we could never leave you now Gween. We are as attached to your blog as your cerebellum is to the arse-end of your brain.

    And no, I haven't got any counselling training, amazingly.

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    1. Thanks The Jules! I have never thought of a brain as having an arse-end; possible future drawing project there

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    2. I think he means brain stem, not sure.

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  4. Here I sit, all broken-hearted,
    Came to laugh
    And only farted.

    Okay, you made me cry, damn you! Wish I could give you a hug. I'm so confused.

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    1. I love what you did with that classic lyric! Never realized how pliable it was.
      Do not cry, you are anonymous

      ?

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    2. Sorry, it's Chilirose. I was so distraught, I forgot who I was.

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    3. See, I'm unknown now.

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  5. You keep forgetting that blog readers have no expectations of blog writers. That expectation is all in your head. We're just happy you post. Hope you feel magical soon.

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    1. Thanks Mandy! I do forget that on a regular basis. I have built a very high expectation for myself in my head, as this is the only rewarding endeavor I have going for myself at the moment. To feel it crumbling into unfunny has left me profoundly sad

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  6. Ouch, my keyboard just messed up my comment by hitting the backspace button, poof aLL gone. I had a virtual hug for you and a wonderful short tale about my dog saving my sanity. I guess writing my blog and sharing aLL my siLLiness is what has helped me the most in the last six years when everything else around me has faLLen a p a r t. So keep writing and drawing, art may save you. I am most assuredly glad I have generated 600 plus blog posts, it aLLows me to read my life and recount my blessings, and aLL the grand siLLy things my wife has said and done.

    ([{ Hugz }])

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    1. Aw, come here you old teddy bear you
      there is something very cathartic about blogging I guess

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    2. Make sure your vitamin B-12 levels are okay in your blood work. That was my problem.

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    3. You are an important part of so many peoples lives, hang in there!

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  7. So... is Serapena your shrink?!? How AWESOME is that!

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    1. This was some regular doctor; the shrink is looming over the next few weeks, but I thought the same thing when she walked in.
      I couldn't believe it kind of.
      Serapena, you well-read harlot....
      You never told me you were a doctor.

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  8. It seems as though the majority of wonderfully clever and hilarious people suffer from some form of anxiety or depression. The dark yin for your brilliant yang. I'm sorry things suck right now and I sincerely hope it passes for you soon.

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    1. Thank you so much lilkittin! What a nice thing to say...The thing that really boggles me about it is how foreign it seems; I am not, by nature, sad, but this is so different than regular sad, its really like someone else is camping out inside me and playing the same stupid Cure record over and over again

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  9. Good on you for getting help with your very sad feelings. I hope that you will be feeling more like yourself soon. Depression is an ugly beast and can quickly turn on you. I'm glad you're not going to let it win.

    And I love reading your blog. It's always fresh and different, even if you think it isn't. You are very creative and obviously ooze talent. The world needs your perspective.

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    1. Oh scousewife, you always be so nice. I have never really encountered anything quite like what is going on; but I certainly hope it does not come to dominate my life.

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  10. I like the inconsistency - I never quite know what to expect. But if you're actually in the dumps right now, hope things turn around and shape up. I love you cool you lying on the sofa lol...

    (This is Bozo, I had to change my name)

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    1. Why did you have to change your name? And why did I think you were Indian?

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    2. Publicity reasons. My film blog is about to get a little attention and Bozo just doesn't sell the way Lady in Red does.

      I've lived in India most my life - some people are confused by that and think I'm Indian ;-)

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  11. =D (sometimes people just need a smile)

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    1. Thanks! I get awkward around genuine niceness, even when expressed through emoticon

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  12. I won't go all awkwardly nice, so instead I'll just say please keep up with your inconsistencies. In blogging and in bowel movements.

    Van Gogh was bipolar. Those manic episodes are worth their weight it gold.

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    1. Thank you Marianne! I will try to maintain inconsistency

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  13. I'm not really a doctor, I only play one on Blogger... but dude, Asperger's, maybe?

    It tends to come hand in hand with awkwardness, brilliance, and depression.

    I know, because I'm married to it.

    Depression is the Debil. This I also know, because I, too, would love to make headlines choking to death on my citalipram.

    I hope you find your happiness again... and I hope your blog is as therapeutic for you to write as it is for me to read.

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    Replies
    1. I was going to write back to you about Apspergers, but I happened to glance down at my belly and was completely mesmerized by how fat it has gotten. It was like staring at the moon.
      But thank you for commenting, and I am amazed that you find reading this stuff even remotely therapeutic

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  14. Wow. You just wrote out all my feelings for me. Now I can just press print and take them to the doctor. Soo, I think I'm going to head to the stairwell now for a bit of a cry and then wish I could take a nap for the next 5 hours. Join me in spirit?

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    1. You should edit them a little before giving them to your doctor. Maybe just the beginning part, when I am sitting on the toilet trying to cry on the downlow

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    2. Why edit? It's still pretty accurate.

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  15. You write about this brilliantly, Gweenbrick -- Poignant and gently humorous in the way that that's how we talk about deep pain. (I'll have to remember to take a Capri Sun into my next appointment ...)

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    1. Thank you so much Lisa! Poignant is a word I have a really hard time spelling, so I am glad you called me it instead of me having to write it

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  16. I love this post! I also love your consistent-inconsistency. Something I've been learning as I start the second half of my life, is that it is okay to be sad or even cry if you need too. Hell, it's even okay to poop in front of others too (maybe not)... :)

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    1. Not sure on that last one, either-but thank you, Kevin!

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  17. What's so good about being consistent? May all of your life experiences continue to come through your writing the way they have always. People appreciate realness. At least I do. Cheers to you my friend.

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    1. Thank you so much Trez! I just hope I don't turn people off by being a mope

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  18. You should realise by now that people love this blog whatever you write here.
    Honestly you and Lily are both the same - totally fucking brilliant but neither of you ever quite seem to realise it. But then I think that's part of the brilliance, and nobody likes a big headed show off do they ?

    Depression sucks, I know. Luckily it never stays for long with me, but I have felt it enough to get the idea that it must be horrible when it sticks around. But there's an awful lot of people who were/are considered to be genius's that suffer from it, which fits - because you are a genius. Sometimes you have a way with words that is just lyrical and poetic and deep.

    Even if you don't realise it.

    ps I am still waiting for the rest of Manboy Japan....

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    1. Hi dirtycowgirl, you are a vicious flatterer, you are! Thank you for always reading and telling me how great I am. Weird how it never gets old. I am still trying to draw Manboy Japan, but because of these stupid psychological issues that have come up, I really can't bring my mind around onto any drawing. I really hope to keep it going, though, because it was such a challenge for myself and people seemed to like it.

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  19. Its going to be OK; if not carry on... and by all means, courtesy flush.
    Take care!

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  20. I try to not-cry when I'm washing the dishes. I wonder if it seems as though I'm standing in the kitchen, trying not to crap my pants. Which, in a way, I suppose we all are.
    I think of depression as the cool side of the pillow where I get to rest my overactive brain when it gets overheated with ideas. You've obviously got a lot of people pulling for you. Glad you found the grace and the humor to write about it.

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    1. Thank you TangledLou! "I wonder if it seems as though I'm standing in the kitchen, trying not to crap my pants. Which, in a way, I suppose we all are"
      Loved that!

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  21. You know how sometimes you start reading something with a LOT OF WORDS and your mind totally loses interest because it's used to seeing big pretty pictures? That never happens here. The words you pick and then string together are just as fascinating as your big pretty pictures. Your best writing can happen with that oppressive cloud over your head. Milk it, my friend.

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    1. Hey Heather, that happens to me when I try to reread my own posts that have lots of words...I can't make it through.
      It always amazes me that people read this blog at all, but even more so when its all wordy and dry. Which is also how my breath smells.
      Which is to say, herefore and forthwit, zrrrrbt.
      Goodbye Heather, and please teach me how to end comments before you comment.

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  22. The invisibility of depression made it difficult for me to ask for help. I felt like I had used the last of my energy to drag myself through the dark, dank, wet blanket that covers me from time to time just to get to the doctors. How you found the strength to tell your doctor is amazing to me. There are a lot of illnesses that can't been seen from the outside. It doesn't make them less of a illness.

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    1. Thank you for your insight kaz! That has something that has really astounded me about this: the total crippling lack of energy to do even the most basic things, let alone trying to go to a doctor
      Hope you are doing ok!

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    2. Hi, it took a while to get my dosage right but I feel much better now, thanks. I shower regularly, I have interests again and I am not so plagued with the thoughts of boring everyone 'cause I am so unable and dull. Now I can see more light, my friends are where they always were, at my back and ready to help.
      I wish you a speedy recovery.
      And dry mouth sucks arse! I use to use those no calorie lolly things to suck on. It helps with the desert mouth.

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  23. Gween, thank you for the wonderful way you have of adding humour to the sadness that is life. It's a beautiful mix that I hope you get as much from as we do.

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    1. Thank you being so kind to me Julie. I have really appreciated our correspondence, which sounds oddly formal.

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  24. I am glad you reached out, and got help. I took antidepressants for a few years. Some did not work, others did. Eventually, I believed I could be happy without them, and I researched the hell out of different therapeutic treatments for depression and anxiety. I went with CBT and EMDR. Good stuff. Really, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you nothing but happiness.

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    1. Thanks Nellie! Medications suck, I am not a fan at all, but because of the suddeness and intensity of the problem, I needed what is unfortunately a "quick fix"

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  25. Man, I just came out of a pretty dark depression, basically by just coming to grips that I don't care about stuff. I realized what was important to me, and just focused on those things. Sure other stuff lost luster, and I failed at some projects I shouldn't have failed at -- but damn it felt good to tell myself "I just don't care about that."

    Being out in the sun helps too.

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    1. That does sound like a nice way through. I will have to adopt some of your ability to let go of things

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  26. I am so, so sorry that you're sad. I hope that things level out soon.

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    1. Oh thank you Stephanie, hopefully things will improve

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  27. gweenbrick,

    I have been quietly following you for about 6 months. Since I lack the clever repartee of your blogger friends, I have not commented before now. I noticed immediately that things were amiss in this post and recognized the horrible pain of depression. I had postpartum depression with my last baby 20 years ago, and I STILL remember the psychic pain. It was worse than any physical pain I have endured, and that includes natural deliveries and 2 knee replacements at the same time. Give your meds at least 2 weeks to see improvement, and then pay close attention and if things don't continue to improve, you may need to change your dosage or even change meds. Don't just lollygag around--make that doctor earn her fees.

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    1. Thank you so much for commenting. I cannot imagine having two knee replacements at the same time, but at least now you are part robot. And thank you for the advice-it has been a week since the doctor/meds, so I am continuing to hope for improvement. I have often heard that postpartum depression leaves you feeling absolutely desolate; you must be a strong person to have made it through and still be smiling in your profile picture. Never hesitate to comment!

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