Tuesday, December 6, 2005

When I was in grade 9 I had to go to a Drug Addiction place, because stupidly some friends and me had brought alcohol to school. On the last day we had to talk to our councilors about what we had learned, why we were there, and blah, blah, blah. I told him nothing except what he wanted to hear, and he looked at me, ya know, he really looked at me, and he asked, very serious like, if I was okay, whether I was happy. I said yes, I was fine, great even. It didn’t end; he didn’t believe me. He asked again, ‘Carolyn is everything okay at home, are you okay?’ I responded, ‘I love everyone at home’. He asked me a couple more times, I guess to make sure, and all the while he didn’t believe me.
Its funny back then, at that moment, I didn’t know I was like this; I didn’t look at the mirror and think ‘your shit, you will always be shit’. I was fine. At least as much as I thought, maybe…probably I was fucked then except it was subconsciously. I would have moments when I wouldn’t speak to any one, when I would just go into a funk, a black mood. And everyone thought I just had wild mood swings. No one I knew had had depression, no one in my family history had felt like I had (that I’ve known about). I hadn’t really read about it, I hadn’t really seen enough of it in movies or on the TV for me to be able to generalize myself as someone who was in reality falling apart. And now, in this time, in this instant of reality, I find that I am fucked, and no one that can help me, is able to see the problem.
This is one of those times when I’m reasonable, when I can diagnose the problem and dissect it until it’s a pile of rubble. When things make sense, and then, then its as if it’s a conspiracy, as if I am the conspiracy. I find that all my life I’ve been told that I’m a hypochondriac, that everything I feel isn’t real. So I look at my depression as if I really am okay and I’m just making myself believe I’m not. A second ago I understand everything, I feel like I could explain scientific phenomena’s with ease, but that second later I can’t figure out if up is really up or is it actually down. Is the world really moving or am I the one that’s spinning…out of control? Am I really depressed or is it all a ploy my subconscious thought up as to direct attention to me. Then I’m back to the reasonable Carolyn, the one who says ‘up is up and down is down. The world rotates, while I stand still. Yes I am screwed up, YES, YES, YES, by God this feeling of wanting to die is real, it really is there.’ I’m so excited that it all makes sense again, and then I do a flip and realize, that I’m excited I want to die, that doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense. Yes the world spins, yes up is up, yes I’m screwed. So what. The problem at hand is, with this new sprout of information that I’ve realized about a million times before; I wont use it to benefit my self. I wont use my found dissect abilities to make me better, to inform someone that I have a problem, and its called me with a capital D.
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