A Brief Retrospective

It's almost been a year since I started therapy, and I wanted to do a year in review once I hit that point. But that's not until July, and I really want to do this retrospective now. I'm also cutting therapy back to a bi-weekly thing, so this is a good time to do it.

What it has been is a year since I started wondering if I might be depressed or just really bad at dealing with life.

It's hard to really put myself in that frame of mind a year later, which is a good thing. But I do remember consistent days of being miserable and feeling isolated, even when I was with other people. I thought I was a shitty person, and that if I complained it would mean I was an even shittier person. I had brief moments of really enjoying myself, but that just made the eventual spiral back to the depression that much harder on me.

I bought a car and wrecked it. I broke my wrist and spent six weeks in a cast.

The only photographic evidence I was ever in a cast.
And that I had clearly given up on beard maintenance.

I lost weight because I wasn't eating that much and what I was eating wasn't good for me. And I didn't even notice until my friends pointed it out when they came to see me in The Full Monty.

Notice the baggy medium-sized shirt that should not be baggy on me.

I dreaded going to work, because I felt like the most useless employee and that only furthered my aversion to doing the job. I spent my nights alone, in my room, and didn't really socialize with my housemates as often as I normally would have. I felt like I was letting everybody down. My love life was nonexistent, because I didn't have any self-worth and believed no one would ever want to date me, or that I wasn't worthy of affection.

Then I started therapy.

Then I quit my job.

Quit isn't the appropriate word; more like "chose not to continue for a second year" but quit sounds more final and is closer to the feeling I was, well, feeling.

And do you know what happened?

Things didn't get better. Yes, I was relieved not to be working at a job I didn't enjoy, but I was facing a new problem: Unemployment. I'll admit that things got worse for a while. I hit bottom around Christmas, when my brother had to pay for me when we went to see Star Wars because I didn't have any money left. And I felt even worse when I couldn't afford Christmas presents for my family.

Therapy was still going strong and helping, but I was trying to find a solution to a problem I was keeping myself trapped in. We'd been talking for weeks about my goals and job hunting, and finally my therapist asked a very important question: "If you could do anything, with no obstacles or problems, what would you want to do?"

And I said, "I want to be a voice actor, and do voice over work in animation."

On quality cartoons like this and others.
Also an apt description of my shiny new life plan.

It's something I honestly have wanted to do since I was a kid, watching TV and thinking, "I could do that." It's partially why I started doing theater. It fueled a lot of my imagination and play time in elementary school. But I'd become convinced that it wasn't a realistic option to pursue, that I should find a regular 9-5 job in an office if I wanted to have any sort of successful life.

So she said, "Then do it. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, or that it'll even work out, but you're making yourself miserable trying to fit into this narrow idea of career options right now."

I started researching what really goes into voice acting, and breaking into the industry. I've found accounts from popular voice actors, one who actually has a site dedicated to the process.

It's very intensive, and very impressive.

The rest of my goals have come as a result of this new career pursuit.

Step 1: Find a job.

I'd been applying to local things, with nothing really coming of it. I considered substitute teaching, but my heart wasn't really in it. And then I saw that Eddie's was hiring, and even though I was still worried about getting a new job because my mind was telling me I wasn't good enough to work anywhere, I applied.

I interviewed. I got a job offer.

And I love it. It's nothing fancy, pays minimum wage, but it's straightforward and I know what's expected of me. I'm comfortable with my employers and coworkers. I'm good at my job; not the best, but pretty damn good. It was the sort of environment I needed to be in to build the self-confidence I'd been without for a long time. My bosses are even coming to see me in Music Man because they found out I have a lead part. I know I'm a good employee in the right environment now.

So that was a huge boost for me. Onto the next step.

Step 2: Buy a new car.

This just happened, and it's such a relief to have independence like it again. I am now the proud owner of Lafayette, who came in and saved me from a very rough spot just like his namesake.

Look how cute he is, all red and saving me from the metaphorical British Army
that was my dependence on other people for rides.

The next steps for me are still in the planning stage, but they're on-track.

And I guess the only question left is, How Am I Now?

Here's my short answer: I'm better.

Here's my long one: I'm doing okay. I like myself again most of the time. Some days are better than others, but on the whole I'm alive and pretty happy to be. The bad thoughts aren't gone completely, but now I know how to fight back against them. It's not always successful, but I can talk myself through my bad days most of the time. My self-worth isn't tied to other people's perceptions of me as much as it used to be. I'm more confident in my personal life, and in pursuing relationships, romantic and otherwise.

A year ago I hated myself, my job, my life. I wasn't suicidal, but I'd reached a point where I stopped caring what happened to me. My plans consisted of "finish this job, then ?????" and that seemed all I was capable of planning.

Today I'm employed at a job I like, feel more in-touch with the world, and have a plan for the future. I've gained some weight back (probably too much if we're being honest), and feel more genuine.

But most importantly I like myself. And I like having that feeling back.

Me. Comfortably, happily, me.

Short Stories and Other Stuff

I think I'm going to additionally open my blog up to some of my creative writing so that I have a motivator to keep writing stories. Feel free to read them, offer any constructive criticism, or ignore them completely!

My first story I'm posting is one I did as an exercise in class to pick two stories (or poems, or combination), and write my own story with the same themes or style. The two pieces I picked were The Day the Saucers Came by Neil Gaiman, and The Last Night of the World by Ray Bradbury.

Enjoy! Or don't. Both are valid options.

This is an Uphill Battle

Today was a good day. And a bad day. This has become my new normal since starting therapy. What I mean is that some moments were really good, and I felt genuinely happy and like nothing could go wrong, and then not an hour later I'm panicking about completely random things.

I think I'm four or five sessions into my therapy at this point. It's probably not good that I've lost track already, but I'm learning that that's the reality of how this goes.

Each session has been really good in the moment, and I leave feeling a little more confident, and a little more able to be myself. But then I have to carry that feeling alone for an entire week, and I'm not very good at that part yet.

My days are in more fluctuation than they used to be, and that's not always a bad thing. Before I started therapy, I'd have long stretches of bad days where it was a battle to even get out of bed, let alone be productive in any measurable way. Now, I have a handful of good days, where I love talking to people and reach out to them when I want to talk to them and job hunt and feel like I'm getting a handle on things.

The flip side of that, of course, is that the single bad days are now compiling all of the bad into a span of about fourteen hours, give or take. So the paranoia I'd spread out over the course of about five days every few weeks are now bottled down into a brief period of time. I worry that because someone hasn't talked directly to me in a few days of their own choice, that they're avoiding me and I must have done something to upset them. That leads to me not wanting to initiate conversation because then I'm just an annoyance and confirm every bad thing I think about myself in that day. Then when we do talk, I over-analyze everything they say.

This even happens in the group chat my best friends and I have going. I won't comment for an entire day, even if I want to vent about something or want to talk about this new thing I'm interested in. I'll read everything else that's being said, and even like comments to let everyone know I'm still keeping up, but I feel like I have nothing worthwhile to contribute. I'm afraid that my friends, who have been nothing but supportive and repeatedly told me that they care about me, are not going to want to hear about my bullshit.

My confidence comes and goes, even among the people I'm closest to. But it's still better than having no confidence at all, and I hold on to that point. I don't know if this is an update, an apology if I've seemed off lately since I started therapy, or just a way to put it out in the open so I'm not keeping these feelings bottled up anymore.

In any case, I still think I'm getting better, and I attribute a lot of that to my therapy so far. I'll probably be publishing this late at night so it doesn't clutter up newsfeeds, and also because my sleep schedule is off no matter how tired I am at night.

I Might Be Depressed, and Other Fun Games My Brain Plays With Me

My brain does this funny thing.

When I've convinced myself that there may be something that's causing me to not feel great, that I might have an anxiety condition or even be depressed, my brain will snap to attention and say, "No, it's fine. You're fine. This is just how life is. There's nothing wrong with you." Like my brain is Batman from Arkham City, but just with that one line that only works out of context in this situation because most of the time I feel like Batman keeping my villain brain at bay.

Skip to 2:04 to get my obscure reference!

And so I put off making an appointment with a therapist. I don't tell other people that I'm feeling the way I'm feeling. I do what I always do; I make passing comments or jokes that are secretly probes to see if other people notice I'm not myself, hoping they'll suggest that I get some help so it doesn't feel like my responsibility anymore.

But it is. And that's why I'm making an appointment to see a therapist.

It probably seems easy from the outside: not feeling well? Go talk to someone who can fix that! When my wrist was broken after my car accident, I didn't sit around thinking "Well, maybe it's not as broken as it could be. I'm sure it'll get better on its own." I got in that damn ambulance at the scene of the accident and took the morphine and spent the next six weeks in a cast so I could heal properly.

And yet I've spent weeks debating with myself about this problem. It's mostly because I'm not always in a low mood. This would be so much easier if I was. Always low means I know there's something happening. But when it's interspersed with a lot of good times, and happy times, it's easier to convince myself that I'm okay all the time.

I'm not saying I'm lying, or have been lying, when you see me happy, or when we hang out and I'm having a good time. I genuinely am happy in those moments. It's not an act. Of course, it only lasts as long as that time together does, and then I'm alone with my thoughts and it gets low again.

So happiness becomes like a drug, and I use my friends and hobbies to get another quick hit so I can keep my brain quiet for a little bit. Because that son-of-a-bitch is aggressive when it's just me and him.

Look at that smug asshole.

I want to like myself all the time again. I want to have the kind of self-confidence that lets me ask a cute girl out on a date instead of getting tripped up on self-esteem issues. I want to be around people and not worry if they actually like me or are just tolerating my presence like we all do with Adam Sandler.

Does anyone remember a likable Adam Sandler at this point?

Part of me also worried what people would think if they found out this is also a part of who I am. I work hard to be the friend people want to have a good time with, and feel like they can talk to about their problems. I like being that guy. Hell, that's who I was before the darker feelings started creeping in. But that perception can change when they find out I've got a brain that enjoys bullying its host on occasion. It's partially why I want to help myself now.

Of course, my brain retaliates whenever I start getting this crazy notion of helping myself. The latest and greatest fear is that there's really nothing wrong with me. That I'm just unequipped to deal with the real world, and this is life for everyone; I'm just worse at coping with it. And how do you bring that up with other people?

Me: Hey, this party sure is great!
Them: Haha, yeah! We never get a chance to just unwind!
Me: I know! So, does anyone else find that they aren't able to deal with the swirling vortex that is independence and adulthood because they don't think they're good enough to actually accomplish anything before they eventually decompose into nothingness?
Me: ...guys? Where are you going?

 You may be wondering by now why, if I'm so worried about other people finding this out about me, am I broadcasting it on my very public blog and sharing it with all my friends on my very public Facebook, many of whom are family or at least close enough that we still talk sometimes probably?

Because fuck my brain, that's why. Fuck that part of it that is trying to push me deeper into myself until I'm convinced I'm fine even though I'm not. The more people that know, the less my brain can isolate the problem to just me.

This isn't really a sympathy post, because I'm not doing it so everyone pays attention to me for ten minutes. I don't crave words of support and encouragement (although they are all appreciated if they come, of course). I just need to get this somewhere other than in my mind. Outside of it, preferably.

More like Inside Out, amiright?

If you're reading this, you know I've already posted it. But right now, as I'm writing it, I'm still terrified about letting this out into the world. And that's okay. That's just my brain holding on to its last really strong thread. I'm better than that fear. I still know that, at least.

So...thanks for reading, I suppose. If you've managed to make it this far. I mean, how's this for a jump start to my blog that sort of fell to the wayside? I'll probably go back to posting nerdy things, but I'll give updates about this next step in me feeling like me again, because it'll be cathartic or something on my end, and you have the option of ignoring it if you'd like.

P.S. You don't have to treat me any differently if we hang out or you see me. I'm not a mine that's going to detonate at the slightest provocation. My laughter is genuine, my interest in your life comes from a place of caring and not attempted distraction, and you really do make me feel better in my own skin.

The World Kind of Sucks, But I Want it to be Better

It's been a fucking rough year.

And I will make no apologies for my language, because it's absolutely true. It's been a fucking rough year. Between what's going on in the rest of the world, specifically the Middle East, the sort of militarized police-state that's starting in our own backyard (itself in response to the murder of an unarmed black teenager but with the police on the wrong side of the issue), the loss of a comedic legend to such tragic circumstances, and the biggest push back against feminism I've ever seen, I hope you'll indulge me some profanity.

The Thing About Tumblr

This is going to be an opinion piece! Mostly because I've realized that if this is going to be sustainable, it needs to branch out and talk about things I think about stuff. It's going to be long, too. So without further ado, here's my opinion on something I've thought a lot about.

Doctor Who?

It's been a while since I posted anything. That's mainly because I graduated, went to Italy, and started job searching.Not in Italy. I'm back home now. Job searching. So that's kind of time consuming. I'd like to get back into the swing of things though, and what better topic to start on than a nerdy thing I'm particularly passionate about: Doctor Who.

Doo Wee Ooo

For those of you who don't know, Doctor Who is a British sci-fi series that's been running for 50 nearly uninterrupted years. It's about an alien, The Doctor, who travels through time and space with his companions, landing on a planet and saving the day just in time. Neil Gaiman says it best, I think:

Doctor Who has never pretended to be hard science fiction … At best Doctor Who is a fairytale, with fairytale logic about this wonderful man in this big blue box who at the beginning of every story lands somewhere where there is a problem.

 And again:

No, look, there's a blue box. It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. It can go anywhere in time and space and sometimes even where it's meant to go. And when it turns up, there's a bloke in it called The Doctor and there will be stuff wrong and he will do his best to sort it out and he will probably succeed 'cause he's awesome. Now sit down, shut up, and watch 'Blink'.

It's been running for so long with the same canon because The Doctor has a nifty little ability to regenerate, which means that as he's dying his entire body will reconstruct itself into a new one. This allows for multiple people to play The Doctor while still keeping him as the same character.

As you can see, fashion is optional between regenerations.

I love this show for a lot of reasons. Which might sound weird to high school me, who thought this was the dumbest concept for a show ever. High school me was also kind of an asshole who didn't know anything about anything, so he didn't deserve and wasn't ready to watch Doctor Who.

For full disclosure, I'll admit I started watching Doctor Who after my first breakup. It was the start of summer after my sophomore year of college and I didn't really envy the thought of three uninterrupted months alone with myself and all the bad feelings that go with a breakup. So I started watching this strictly as a distraction. And I fell in love with it, completely by accident.

I started with the revised series, which premiered in 2005 with Christopher Eccleston as the Ninth Doctor, and as an aside I recommend people new to the series start there if they don't want to jump into the middle of something. I'd done some research into the show's past so I had a basis walking in, but that was about it. So I didn't really know what to expect from this odd British show about aliens with English accents.

And then I was addicted. I worked through six series right before the seventh premiered. I own a customizable sonic screwdriver. I ran/run a Tumblr blog that's an role play of The Doctor. I convinced my mother to buy me a bow tie because bow ties are cool, even if she didn't realize what I was doing when I asked. I could debate the merits of each Doctor, tell you why Martha deserved much better writing in her season, and argue why The Doctor is not someone you want to emulate but definitely someone you want to let affect you.

So the biggest question is, why?

All the happy endings?

It's because Doctor Who isn't a typical show by today's standards. It's not cynical or ironic. It doesn't rely on dark themes and depressing ideology to appeal to viewers who are used to Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones. That's not even an indictment against those shows, because they're clearly popular for a reason. All I'm saying is that Doctor Who is a genuinely hopeful and optimistic program about a protagonist who really believes the best of you. And I say 'you' because it is insanely personal if you're willing to watch it that way.

That gif perfectly describes what this show, and The Doctor himself, is all about. And at the time I started watching, it was what I needed to hear. I liked the idea of a hero who saves the world and does it not for the glory, or for the recognition, but because he's curious and wants to help. Everyone should want a hero like that. His weapon is a screwdriver, something primarily used to fix things. It's sentimental and saccharine and I love it.

This show is about hope. But it's also about inspiring you to be a better person, and realizing that you're already capable of amazing things. All of The Doctor's companions start out in various states of monotony. Then they meet The Doctor, and they realize that their potential is limitless.

I saw a lot of this happen while I was running that RP blog (I plan on starting it back up once the show comes back on air in August; I need new content to post new stuff). Fans of the show and the character message me, asking for genuine advice from The Doctor. I know they know it isn't technically real, but for that moment they want to believe in a character who loves them, and I am always happy to give them that.

It's why I'm not embarrassed of that blog. I've had people tell me that the things I post have brightened their day, stopped them from hurting themselves, or even stopping them from taking their own life. That's a huge weight this show carries, and it goes far beyond one little blog. This is a show meant to make people look at the world in a brighter light. This is a show that succeeds in doing that.

So that's a lot of nerding out, and a more genuine nerding out than I'm used to giving. But I stand by it, and I recommend that everyone should give Doctor Who a chance. It's not for everyone; I'll be the first to admit that. But if it's for you, then you'll find a show worth obsessing over and hopefully take something away from it.

Stay beautiful. Be cool. And always geek out.