The Dreaded Apocalypse Post...
Jan. 13th, 2009 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ht_murrayMaybe not dreaded.
First, I want to say, yes, I know the Bible says no one knows the hour or the day. In fact, every time I hear that quote, I start singing Twila Paris... *sings* "Watch and pray, til we see Him coming, no one knows the hour or the day." I must've listened to that song twenty times on the trip between Wisconsin and Texas back when I thought all I needed to succeed in life was a good, true heart and the ambition.
Seems like forever ago.
A lot has changed in the last twelve years. Yeah, it's been twelve years since I left home. I feel a little like quoting A Tale of Two Cities, because "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," about sums up my life since then.
Except for the part where it's past tense.
It's never the past. It's always the best of times and the worst of times. Just, for anyone who's ever dealt with depression, you know, the worst of times seem to outweigh the best.
So, it's strange to me that I should accidentally be reminded that the forecast end of the world, December 2012, is only three years away, and suddenly, I feel like this huge weight has just been lifted.
I know. You're all thinking I'm one twisted, evil bitch who wants the world to end bloody so it can play into some fantasy I have about perseverance and the hand of judgment or some shit. But no. It's nothing like that. I don't hope the world ends in three years. I don't wish anyone to suffer seeing that.
But here's the thing. What if it does?
The thing with depression is, the darkness is so hard to carry. It never gets lighter, only heavier, and there are times when you think about having to carry that forever, and it doesn't seem worth the effort.
.
It's no news to anyone who's been around here for any period of time that I've been struggling with depression for awhile. I know, sometimes it doesn't seem like I'm struggling so much as giving in to it. I apologize for that. I've made a real effort to just STFU about that stuff, but sometimes it just leaks out.
With depression, there come a lot of... thoughts. You know the kind. I'm not gonna spell it out. But, I think, if I hadn't locked all my posts from the last year that aren't fic, you'd see a point where my posts started actually to sound hopeful. Where I had my ticket to see Jensen, where I was getting my ass in shape again, and I was writing this fic that was consuming my creative life like nothing ever had.
The thing about that is, you get a lot accomplished when you have a deadline. I had one. I had an hour and a day. You didn't know that, I hope.
Anyway, as you know, plans change. Jensen cancelled. My fic didnt' get a post date until the end of July. Things got postponed. Stuff you knew about and stuff you didn't.
So, I stuck it out. To see the fic posted. To meet Jensen. To cross things off the list, so to speak. And then the fic went over well, and Jensen made me squee, and friends came out of the woodwork. Stuff got cancelled.
And that's how it is, I think, in everything. It's no surprise that recovering addicts vow to take one day at a time. Forever is too long to bear anything.
I hadn't really noticed how much things were starting to weigh on me again until I sat down with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocca2 to discuss this fic that hit me out of the blue, and I realized, 2012 is three years from now. December 2012 is just one presidential term away. And I felt... better.
Like I said, I don't want the world to end. I just... like the idea that it won't be like this forever.
Let me show you how it changes my thinking. (Again, anything below this line is bound to be way too much information. I don't care who reads it. I'm tired of the bullshit. This is real. Take it or leave it.)
I used to get down because I live in a friggin' trailer, which I rent, and I pretty much know I will never, ever own a house. I know. That's pessimistic, but I have a good, solid set of reasons why I believe this. So, anyway, I get depressed because I'll never have a house that isn't a metal cave full of stuff I don't have room for. I'll never own a house.
If the world ends in four years, really ends where people either lose everything or have to leave everything behind... no one will have a house. Then, all this whimpering and whining and feeling sorry for myself has been for what? Nothing.
So, now I don't care about not having a house. Maybe when the world doesn't end, I will find another door has opened somewhere and I can have one after all. For now, it's not a big deal.
I used to be depressed that I'd never be published. Yeah, sure, journals, an anthology here and there, but nothing that's going to make an impact on anyone. Nothing that people are going to remember. Never going to be successful at it. There are way better writers in the world than I. Why bother? Besides, nothing I write has any public appeal. I have absolutely zero ability to just tell a story without weighing it down with metaphorical, metaphysical, namby-pamby happy-ending at all cost, crap.
If the world ends in four years, John Grisham is going to be historical fiction. The stories won't be told around campfires and smoldering cans of beans. Popularity is fleeting and entirely dependent upon perspective. I get that now.
So, I'll keep telling my stories with entirely too much introspection and entirely too little plot. Someday maybe we'll all be doing more soul-searching and reflecting than plotting.
(This one's really too much information, so skip on by, lol)
I used to cry when people posted about their sex lives, lol, cuz I have none. I actually thought I, at thirtysomething, was doomed to never have sex again. It's that much more complicated by the fact that I've only been with one person, and the complete absence of that in my life makes me think about going against everything I believe in. I mean, what was the point of saving myself all through school, waiting for just the right person to come along, and then just wake up one day and realize the last time was THE LAST TIME? I actually thought about being with other people. I mean, it's not like I couldn't. I'm apparently a huge flirt. I had no idea. And I'm not butt ugly. And it's just sex, right?
But no. I mean. It shouldn't be a big deal. But it is to me. It's like the one thing I still believe in. And I'm probably wrong, but man, there've been times I've been so ready to turn my back on the whole thing and just, I dunno, get really drunk and... well, you know. I mean... everybody's doing it, right?
God, some days I feel like such a complete social spaz.
But hell, what's three more years? It's been that long already. LOL. I haven't exploded yet.
I used to get depressed because I hate my job.
Perspectives change.
I still have a job. It maybe doesn't pay my bills anymore, but it still pays for the important stuff... mostly.
So, anyway, let's just suppose the world might end in a few years. It's better than muddling through the shit with no end in sight.
In three, almost four years, I have plenty of time, maybe not to be a professional writer, but to finish Nightblindness verse and Crop Circles, and find someone who'll maybe publish them as e-books. Beggars can't be chooser.
In three, almost four years, I will hopefully get to find out what happens to the Winchester brothers, and yes, there were times when that weighed heavily on my mind. And I maybe won't like the ending, who knows, but I'll be more creative and thoughtful for having paid attention to the story.
In three, almost four years, I can get in the best shape of my life, cut off my hair, because seriously, it's way too long, and just live in my skin like it won't ever get old and sag and stop working on me.
There's a whole lot a girl can do in three, almost four years that would never get done in a hundred if I thought I had to deal with all that other stuff forever.
I guess, that just goes to show, perspective changes, and if it doesn't change fast enough, you can still plan for the next one.
And I'm pretty sure when I started writing this, I had some point I was planning to make, but I got emotional somewhere in the middle, and now I've forgotten what it was.
But in case you're wondering, that stuff that got postponed and then cancelled? Well, it's still cancelled, because now I have to see how the story ends. If it doesn't end, then I'll maybe at least see the next great plot twist. Might even get to be in it. Who knows? *shrug*
And now that I've spilled all that, I'll probably end up deleting it, not because I'm ashamed, but just well, I won't know until I read it with fresh eyes whether I've said something positive or just gone the complete other direction. Perspective, yes?
Um, not sure I'll ever have the guts to discuss any of this, though. So, it might be next year before I get around to replying. I hope you at least get some food for thought out of this mess.
Ugh, now I'm hungry.
First, I want to say, yes, I know the Bible says no one knows the hour or the day. In fact, every time I hear that quote, I start singing Twila Paris... *sings* "Watch and pray, til we see Him coming, no one knows the hour or the day." I must've listened to that song twenty times on the trip between Wisconsin and Texas back when I thought all I needed to succeed in life was a good, true heart and the ambition.
Seems like forever ago.
A lot has changed in the last twelve years. Yeah, it's been twelve years since I left home. I feel a little like quoting A Tale of Two Cities, because "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," about sums up my life since then.
Except for the part where it's past tense.
It's never the past. It's always the best of times and the worst of times. Just, for anyone who's ever dealt with depression, you know, the worst of times seem to outweigh the best.
So, it's strange to me that I should accidentally be reminded that the forecast end of the world, December 2012, is only three years away, and suddenly, I feel like this huge weight has just been lifted.
I know. You're all thinking I'm one twisted, evil bitch who wants the world to end bloody so it can play into some fantasy I have about perseverance and the hand of judgment or some shit. But no. It's nothing like that. I don't hope the world ends in three years. I don't wish anyone to suffer seeing that.
But here's the thing. What if it does?
The thing with depression is, the darkness is so hard to carry. It never gets lighter, only heavier, and there are times when you think about having to carry that forever, and it doesn't seem worth the effort.
.
It's no news to anyone who's been around here for any period of time that I've been struggling with depression for awhile. I know, sometimes it doesn't seem like I'm struggling so much as giving in to it. I apologize for that. I've made a real effort to just STFU about that stuff, but sometimes it just leaks out.
With depression, there come a lot of... thoughts. You know the kind. I'm not gonna spell it out. But, I think, if I hadn't locked all my posts from the last year that aren't fic, you'd see a point where my posts started actually to sound hopeful. Where I had my ticket to see Jensen, where I was getting my ass in shape again, and I was writing this fic that was consuming my creative life like nothing ever had.
The thing about that is, you get a lot accomplished when you have a deadline. I had one. I had an hour and a day. You didn't know that, I hope.
Anyway, as you know, plans change. Jensen cancelled. My fic didnt' get a post date until the end of July. Things got postponed. Stuff you knew about and stuff you didn't.
So, I stuck it out. To see the fic posted. To meet Jensen. To cross things off the list, so to speak. And then the fic went over well, and Jensen made me squee, and friends came out of the woodwork. Stuff got cancelled.
And that's how it is, I think, in everything. It's no surprise that recovering addicts vow to take one day at a time. Forever is too long to bear anything.
I hadn't really noticed how much things were starting to weigh on me again until I sat down with
chocca2 to discuss this fic that hit me out of the blue, and I realized, 2012 is three years from now. December 2012 is just one presidential term away. And I felt... better. Like I said, I don't want the world to end. I just... like the idea that it won't be like this forever.
Let me show you how it changes my thinking. (Again, anything below this line is bound to be way too much information. I don't care who reads it. I'm tired of the bullshit. This is real. Take it or leave it.)
I used to get down because I live in a friggin' trailer, which I rent, and I pretty much know I will never, ever own a house. I know. That's pessimistic, but I have a good, solid set of reasons why I believe this. So, anyway, I get depressed because I'll never have a house that isn't a metal cave full of stuff I don't have room for. I'll never own a house.
If the world ends in four years, really ends where people either lose everything or have to leave everything behind... no one will have a house. Then, all this whimpering and whining and feeling sorry for myself has been for what? Nothing.
So, now I don't care about not having a house. Maybe when the world doesn't end, I will find another door has opened somewhere and I can have one after all. For now, it's not a big deal.
I used to be depressed that I'd never be published. Yeah, sure, journals, an anthology here and there, but nothing that's going to make an impact on anyone. Nothing that people are going to remember. Never going to be successful at it. There are way better writers in the world than I. Why bother? Besides, nothing I write has any public appeal. I have absolutely zero ability to just tell a story without weighing it down with metaphorical, metaphysical, namby-pamby happy-ending at all cost, crap.
If the world ends in four years, John Grisham is going to be historical fiction. The stories won't be told around campfires and smoldering cans of beans. Popularity is fleeting and entirely dependent upon perspective. I get that now.
So, I'll keep telling my stories with entirely too much introspection and entirely too little plot. Someday maybe we'll all be doing more soul-searching and reflecting than plotting.
(This one's really too much information, so skip on by, lol)
I used to cry when people posted about their sex lives, lol, cuz I have none. I actually thought I, at thirtysomething, was doomed to never have sex again. It's that much more complicated by the fact that I've only been with one person, and the complete absence of that in my life makes me think about going against everything I believe in. I mean, what was the point of saving myself all through school, waiting for just the right person to come along, and then just wake up one day and realize the last time was THE LAST TIME? I actually thought about being with other people. I mean, it's not like I couldn't. I'm apparently a huge flirt. I had no idea. And I'm not butt ugly. And it's just sex, right?
But no. I mean. It shouldn't be a big deal. But it is to me. It's like the one thing I still believe in. And I'm probably wrong, but man, there've been times I've been so ready to turn my back on the whole thing and just, I dunno, get really drunk and... well, you know. I mean... everybody's doing it, right?
God, some days I feel like such a complete social spaz.
But hell, what's three more years? It's been that long already. LOL. I haven't exploded yet.
I used to get depressed because I hate my job.
Perspectives change.
I still have a job. It maybe doesn't pay my bills anymore, but it still pays for the important stuff... mostly.
So, anyway, let's just suppose the world might end in a few years. It's better than muddling through the shit with no end in sight.
In three, almost four years, I have plenty of time, maybe not to be a professional writer, but to finish Nightblindness verse and Crop Circles, and find someone who'll maybe publish them as e-books. Beggars can't be chooser.
In three, almost four years, I will hopefully get to find out what happens to the Winchester brothers, and yes, there were times when that weighed heavily on my mind. And I maybe won't like the ending, who knows, but I'll be more creative and thoughtful for having paid attention to the story.
In three, almost four years, I can get in the best shape of my life, cut off my hair, because seriously, it's way too long, and just live in my skin like it won't ever get old and sag and stop working on me.
There's a whole lot a girl can do in three, almost four years that would never get done in a hundred if I thought I had to deal with all that other stuff forever.
I guess, that just goes to show, perspective changes, and if it doesn't change fast enough, you can still plan for the next one.
And I'm pretty sure when I started writing this, I had some point I was planning to make, but I got emotional somewhere in the middle, and now I've forgotten what it was.
But in case you're wondering, that stuff that got postponed and then cancelled? Well, it's still cancelled, because now I have to see how the story ends. If it doesn't end, then I'll maybe at least see the next great plot twist. Might even get to be in it. Who knows? *shrug*
And now that I've spilled all that, I'll probably end up deleting it, not because I'm ashamed, but just well, I won't know until I read it with fresh eyes whether I've said something positive or just gone the complete other direction. Perspective, yes?
Um, not sure I'll ever have the guts to discuss any of this, though. So, it might be next year before I get around to replying. I hope you at least get some food for thought out of this mess.
Ugh, now I'm hungry.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-15 06:59 am (UTC)I'm not going to give you platitudes and hairpats. I nodded through most of your post--hell, half of it--
well, you know. Even down to not wanting to leave before I find out what happens to the Winchesters. Hell of a reason to stick around, but sometimes that's what it comes down to. Christmas was as near as I've come in a while, and this week I found the bottom of my lungs again, so I know a little bit.
Perspective does change, and knowing that is a good part of the battle, if we just dig our fingernails in until that weathervane swings out of the south for a change, things will ease up. Nothing's static, and sometimes knowing that has to be enough for us to hold on. I'd be missed, and some people might never get over being pissed at me. We'd be pissed at you too, you know. If your deadline makes things easier to bear, then good. I'm glad.