Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Oct. 31st, 2001 09:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueGoddamnit.
Okay, we're doing this Alcoholics Anonymous style.
Hi, my name is Romie, and I'm a clinical depressive. Or at least dysthymic. I don't take medication, because I think that's crap -- I don't even take asprin, for fuck's sake. I don't see a therapist because I don't trust them, I find them superfluous when one has friends, and they mostly just piss me off. Aside from which, I have a strong enough background in abnormal psychology to be quite familiar with my own delusions, thank you very much.
I am happy most of the time, because I choose to be. While I often seem to be short-tempered, it is mainly for the entertainment value.
However, I sometimes become miserably unhappy, know that I'm doing it, know that it's irrational, and couldn't stop it with a thousand canons. Often, this is triggered by milk and milk products, which I avoid scrupulously. It may also be linked to wheat, which I have great difficulty eschewing; I clearly need to lock down on this, as I suspect it has some effect on my present condition.
Very fortunately, I always remain composed even in the worst of it, to the extent that very few people can ever tell that there's anything wrong. I'm an actor, after all, and I've had years of practice in playing myself. I say "fortunately" because I don't like being babied, or pitied, or patted on the head and apologized for. I also hate to inconvenience people; my problems are my problems and not theirs. I've had too many people ask me to fix their lives to ever put that burden on others.
In short, I don't get suicidal, I don't lose any self-confidence or self-worth, and I rationally know that I have a pretty good deal going on. I self-medicate with nail polish and raspberry ginger ale.
The chief upshot is that I get very paranoid. I become convinced that everyone dislikes me, or is annoyed with me. They are judging my actions, and everything they say is a personal attack. This may or may not be a self-fulfilling prophesy, because I suspect that I am actually less likeable when in one of these periods.
Also, when I say "everyone," I don't mean aquaintances, who sometimes like me better. As I've mentioned before, stress makes me much kinder to people I don't know and much crueler to my friends.
I could say that this is a disclaimer, or a warning, but that would be a casting off of responsibility. If I hurt somebody, it's not okay, even if I am somewhat insensible at the time, and they shouldn't put up with it.
I need to get my head together. I am stronger than my biology.
Okay, we're doing this Alcoholics Anonymous style.
Hi, my name is Romie, and I'm a clinical depressive. Or at least dysthymic. I don't take medication, because I think that's crap -- I don't even take asprin, for fuck's sake. I don't see a therapist because I don't trust them, I find them superfluous when one has friends, and they mostly just piss me off. Aside from which, I have a strong enough background in abnormal psychology to be quite familiar with my own delusions, thank you very much.
I am happy most of the time, because I choose to be. While I often seem to be short-tempered, it is mainly for the entertainment value.
However, I sometimes become miserably unhappy, know that I'm doing it, know that it's irrational, and couldn't stop it with a thousand canons. Often, this is triggered by milk and milk products, which I avoid scrupulously. It may also be linked to wheat, which I have great difficulty eschewing; I clearly need to lock down on this, as I suspect it has some effect on my present condition.
Very fortunately, I always remain composed even in the worst of it, to the extent that very few people can ever tell that there's anything wrong. I'm an actor, after all, and I've had years of practice in playing myself. I say "fortunately" because I don't like being babied, or pitied, or patted on the head and apologized for. I also hate to inconvenience people; my problems are my problems and not theirs. I've had too many people ask me to fix their lives to ever put that burden on others.
In short, I don't get suicidal, I don't lose any self-confidence or self-worth, and I rationally know that I have a pretty good deal going on. I self-medicate with nail polish and raspberry ginger ale.
The chief upshot is that I get very paranoid. I become convinced that everyone dislikes me, or is annoyed with me. They are judging my actions, and everything they say is a personal attack. This may or may not be a self-fulfilling prophesy, because I suspect that I am actually less likeable when in one of these periods.
Also, when I say "everyone," I don't mean aquaintances, who sometimes like me better. As I've mentioned before, stress makes me much kinder to people I don't know and much crueler to my friends.
I could say that this is a disclaimer, or a warning, but that would be a casting off of responsibility. If I hurt somebody, it's not okay, even if I am somewhat insensible at the time, and they shouldn't put up with it.
I need to get my head together. I am stronger than my biology.
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(no subject)
Date: 2001-10-31 01:27 pm (UTC)It is indeed the paradigm of badassedness.
I just never even thought you could feel this way. I mean obviously I should have, but you always seem so confident, so sure of yourself, and so sure of the fact that you have people - friends - who adore you.
Yeah, see, that's the thing. I am and I do. Which is why I get so blindsided by this paranoia. It's very weird to be depressive and narcissistic at the same time. ::laughs:: Oh, hell, I just feel awkward and horrible and far too large for my surroundings. And I know it's all in my head, because, fuck, I am stupendously cool, and I have documentation to prove it. It's very confusing.
Normally when I get phobic, it's a variation of yours -- not that people will like me less once they get to know me, but that they work not to know me so that they can be cruel without considering my feelings. Because, you know, I'm this all-powerful master villain. Really, I am. And if I make a mistake, it's a cause for rejoicing. And if I make a request, I'm being unreasonable. But if I do something amazing, that's because I'm Romie and it's my job, not something that needs special credit.
The other thing I start doing is blaming myself for everyone else's bad mood, letting them make me the scapegoat.
And at the same time, yes, I think that everyone dislikes me, I think that everyone is using me, I think that people are only nice to avoid awkwardness, and I start inventing conspiracies. It's a steep downward spiral.
In any case, thank you very much for commenting. You know I love you, too. I'm feeling somewhat better now, as I have spent the past 3 hours plaing blues riffs and eating lentil soup. I'm still insane and all, as in "not in my right mind," but at least I feel more confident of my ability to get back. Your support is a weridly big part of that.