w00t w00t booyah

I find myself surrounded by a lot of mental illness lately.

This is not surprising, considering the amount of tension and stress the economy/political climate has foisted upon everyone walking around - this is not the 'first world problem' of people moping about disconsolate and unable to get out of bed in the morning depression, however.

This is angry, angry sputtering and slamming of doors, cutting off phone conversations and reactive disconnecting kind of 'depression' - which I don't always think is chemical in nature.

It's situational. Which means, the typical fix of a lot of drugs and very little therapy isn't going to return good results. Responding to stress and suck by getting unhappy seems like a no-brainer, but in today's culture - well, you just can't have that!

And I see a lot of people internalize it until it does manifest as true mental illness.

How do you treat situational depression? Gods, it's in every belief system going back thousands of years - if you hear someone 'got spiritual' and got happy, successfully? Likely they got a piece of it that worked for them. You'll also hear of the 'not easy part.' They ain't kidding.

You just have to let it go. Rewrite that as you wish, but that's the core.

If you're Buddhist, you divest. Attachment to anything only brings torment - divest, divest, divest.
If you're Judaeo/Christian, you give it to God and fuggitaboutit. No take backs, no taking control again. Lillies in the field get bullshit to grow in, don't you know that? You may not like it, but you'll have enough to live - live 'well' maybe not. Acquire contentment with your lot in life.

I see a lot of my Pagan friends conducting rituals, meditation at their altars, etc. - willing to accept the outcome of their offerings, no question. You offer it up and see what the powers bring.

My Hindu friends prayed. What happened after that, happened. They had done what they could.

The atheists? FUCK IT. I give up - I got nothing.

In every case, it's a surrender of your control over everything you have struggled and fought for. Planned on. You just have to let it go.

This is not walking away - don't make that mistake. You just have to take your hands off the wheel and let the car drive itself for a while. That's trust, but sometimes? You don't see the road well enough and the car is smarter than you are.

Knowing that, even if it's not in your conscious mind? Can really piss you off.

You don't go home and lock the door. You don't stop talking to your friends. You don't stop working or looking for another job.

But you do stop forgetting that the sun still rises every morning you live, the stars still shine as brightly regardless of whether life is good for you or not. And you dial your expectations of what you must Be to those very basic things.

Everyone is on your side - they just might not agree with you. Trust me, you want someone honest on your side, cherish the ones who won't put up with nonsense just to shut you up.

It's not fair. Nobody ever said it would be. Fairs are nice things with nummy treats and carnival rides. Don't make 'fair' the be all and end all - you can expect unfairness, and boy I would. Get better at communicating and negotiating instead.

Please learn to recognize grief and allow it. Loss is loss is loss is loss. Let it go.

Anger is a useful emotion, but much more akin to fire than anything else. Properly handled, it will cook your food and light your way. Allow it free rein and nothing survives. Not even it.

You come into this world naked, wet and screaming - going back out anything more? BONUS. Tuck that away somewhere.

Now - get out there and kick some ass and keep moving. It's hard to hit a moving target, after all.

But what sorrows you unto anger and depression? Let it go. Let it alllll go.

I find myself surrounded by a lot of mental illness lately.

This is not surprising, considering the amount of tension and stress the economy/political climate has foisted upon everyone walking around - this is not the 'first world problem' of people moping about disconsolate and unable to get out of bed in the morning depression, however.

This is angry, angry sputtering and slamming of doors, cutting off phone conversations and reactive disconnecting kind of 'depression' - which I don't always think is chemical in nature.

It's situational. Which means, the typical fix of a lot of drugs and very little therapy isn't going to return good results. Responding to stress and suck by getting unhappy seems like a no-brainer, but in today's culture - well, you just can't have that!

And I see a lot of people internalize it until it does manifest as true mental illness.

How do you treat situational depression? Gods, it's in every belief system going back thousands of years - if you hear someone 'got spiritual' and got happy, successfully? Likely they got a piece of it that worked for them. You'll also hear of the 'not easy part.' They ain't kidding.

You just have to let it go. Rewrite that as you wish, but that's the core.

If you're Buddhist, you divest. Attachment to anything only brings torment - divest, divest, divest.
If you're Judaeo/Christian, you give it to God and fuggitaboutit. No take backs, no taking control again. Lillies in the field get bullshit to grow in, don't you know that? You may not like it, but you'll have enough to live - live 'well' maybe not. Acquire contentment with your lot in life.

I see a lot of my Pagan friends conducting rituals, meditation at their altars, etc. - willing to accept the outcome of their offerings, no question. You offer it up and see what the powers bring.

My Hindu friends prayed. What happened after that, happened. They had done what they could.

The atheists? FUCK IT. I give up - I got nothing.

In every case, it's a surrender of your control over everything you have struggled and fought for. Planned on. You just have to let it go.

This is not walking away - don't make that mistake. You just have to take your hands off the wheel and let the car drive itself for a while. That's trust, but sometimes? You don't see the road well enough and the car is smarter than you are.

Knowing that, even if it's not in your conscious mind? Can really piss you off.

You don't go home and lock the door. You don't stop talking to your friends. You don't stop working or looking for another job.

But you do stop forgetting that the sun still rises every morning you live, the stars still shine as brightly regardless of whether life is good for you or not. And you dial your expectations of what you must Be to those very basic things.

Everyone is on your side - they just might not agree with you. Trust me, you want someone honest on your side, cherish the ones who won't put up with nonsense just to shut you up.

It's not fair. Nobody ever said it would be. Fairs are nice things with nummy treats and carnival rides. Don't make 'fair' the be all and end all - you can expect unfairness, and boy I would. Get better at communicating and negotiating instead.

Please learn to recognize grief and allow it. Loss is loss is loss is loss. Let it go.

Anger is a useful emotion, but much more akin to fire than anything else. Properly handled, it will cook your food and light your way. Allow it free rein and nothing survives. Not even it.

You come into this world naked, wet and screaming - going back out anything more? BONUS. Tuck that away somewhere.

Now - get out there and kick some ass and keep moving. It's hard to hit a moving target, after all.

But what sorrows you unto anger and depression? Let it go. Let it alllll go.

But here it is, wrapped in another nice package.

Cognitive work, targeted to change brain chemistry - look Ma, no drugs!

This time, it's reported as a treatment for PTSD -

The new procedure relies on a quirky property of memories called reconsolidation. The process of jogging a memory – with an emotional or sensory jolt, for instance – seems to make it malleable for a few hours.

...

In search of a gentler way to block fearful memories, Marie Monfils, a neuroscientist at the University of Texas in Austin, tweaked a therapy sometimes used to treat PTSD, called extinction.

Here, doctors repeatedly deliver threatening cues – gun shots, for instance – in safe environments in hopes of drowning out the fearful associations.

Think of riding a glass elevator a bazillion times to get over a fear of heights, with your best friends, completely safe (maybe even with your favorite tunes). In this case, you associate something else (something as simple as a blue square) with the thing that scares you witless, and the bad association fades as the memory reconsolidates. It's a small window, too - and varies from person to person. Do it outside of that window, and blammo - what your first impression was when you heard this? Yeah - congrats, you just associated that bad stuff with your good stuff and TRIGGER is now your middle name.

Also, this is a rat study - with some very, VERY limited human study tossed in afterward.

But - pretty nifty, neh?

SNARK MODE=ON

I'm more than a bit out of sorts tonight. I'm going to call your attention to two passings of close, dear ones - not of mine, but in my circle. Dear ones of dear ones, as it were.

Shelton Jackson. AIDS.

Jennie Sutton. Cystic Fibrosis.

Half my age. Younger than Cliff when he left.

People mention what fighters they were. How terrible it was they 'lost the battle.'

As if.

Guys, having a disease process? Isn't a matter of a fight - because it's not, and it never will be.

You don't get to fight. This isn't a battle. You don't even get to defend yourself.

You get handed something to endure and deal with. You get something that doesn't care, doesn't even throw a punch at you - before it steals everything in your life, and then takes you life without batting an eye. It's insanity to even consider you will get a fair shot. A fair fight? *laughs*

This drives me nuts, because it implies that if you don't 'win?' You failed. You didn't do something. You didn't get help from the Right People. You were - unlucky. You can fill in the blank. Shoot, go ahead - co-op God. For good or ill. It's done. You know what it sounds like, you've heard it.

Here's your warning. You do this around me, you're going to get it.

You get to work as hard as you ever have - for vanishing returns. Maybe no returns at all, but you do it anyway because you want out of this nightmare and that's the only way that looks promising. You live in an acute awareness of being that is both a curse and a blessing. You wish you could have the day of a lifetime - because it could be your last, and tomorrow could be worse - and have to deal with the reality that this day has more suck (and no money) in it than anything else, and you can't. But you endure it - hoping tomorrow will be different. But today, you enjoy the sunlight. The rain. Whatever you can grab - because this is your time, the only time you are going to get. And you know you must make the most of it. It's all you'll get. Vitally aware.

Vitally aware you're getting the short end, but you make the best of it. It is what it is.

Fight. Fight what? Something that sits on your chest, sucks your blood, kills you from the inside out, short-circuits your nervous system, plays with your body chemistry like some science project from 6th grade, what? Oh yeah, that'll work.

Shelton did something wonderful. He told everyone what it was like. He took it in, hoped for the best and just did what he could. Hope's Voice. Dear God.

There's little braver than enduring a transplant, in my book. To consider it, do it and when it stops working? To consider doing it again? And why?

She failed the saving throw on the genetics. Yeah, I'd give the whole mess the finger. Cliff certainly did often enough.

I remember the absolute smugness Cliff had on his 35th birthday. He'd made it. He wouldn't see two more birthdays - but he'd made it to 35 when everyone said he wouldn't.

Fight. You wish. You manage to endure and survive these things, if you can. That's all.

Let me tell you something. This ain't no dress rehearsal. This is all you're going to get. One day, one hour, one moment at a time - and when it's gone, it's gone for good. It's not coming back for you to try again, this moment. Not ever.

So don't be surprised if I'm willing to do whatever I must to avoid being unhappy a single moment if I don't have to. Regret, sadness, whatever - those things are part of a healthy acceptance of life and its realities. But if depression rolls around? No. I spent too much time there already - and I know too much now to ever go back there. I don't deserve it. Nobody does.

And it's a fucking lie. Test those boundaries, push that envelope - it'll give. Promise. You won't die - of fail, embarrassment or panic. Hang in there, grab on by your fingernails and don't let go. Look for what is true and unchanging - the rest of the world is no more perfect than you are. Things fall down. It's okay. You deal. You move on. Let it be. It'll be okay, really. Trust me. Trust yourself.

I want to live my life in near exhaustion - every day as full as I can make it, curious about what's around the corner and willing to give it a go, even if I fall on my face. Like nobody's watching (and really, who is?). Hard to hit. Always in motion.

I'll never feel sorry for you if I see you need a shove back onto your feet more. Come on - your life is calling, can you hear it? Are you listening for someone else to relay the message instead (don't)? Get up, pay no attention to that bullshit hiding behind the curtain whispering threats. Deal. Cope. Work. (It's all just work, didn't anyone tell you that?)

You don't need anyone to tell you you're awesome. You just are. Accept it, tuck it close to your heart of hearts and never forget it. You're the first one to know this - nobody else can make it stick if you don't hear that from the bottom of your soul.

Strive. Get out in front and make it look like a parade. Fake it. You'll make it, eventually. No other choice - if you keep at it.

But this is IT. No do-overs, no going back to make changes. No rewrites.

Do your best.
Clean up your own messes.
Be aware of your impact on others.

People rock. You rock and you don't even know it yet.

Now get to work.

SNARK MODE=OFF

SNARK MODE=ON

I'm more than a bit out of sorts tonight. I'm going to call your attention to two passings of close, dear ones - not of mine, but in my circle. Dear ones of dear ones, as it were.

Shelton Jackson. AIDS.

Jennie Sutton. Cystic Fibrosis.

Half my age. Younger than Cliff when he left.

People mention what fighters they were. How terrible it was they 'lost the battle.'

As if.

Guys, having a disease process? Isn't a matter of a fight - because it's not, and it never will be.

You don't get to fight. This isn't a battle. You don't even get to defend yourself.

You get handed something to endure and deal with. You get something that doesn't care, doesn't even throw a punch at you - before it steals everything in your life, and then takes you life without batting an eye. It's insanity to even consider you will get a fair shot. A fair fight? *laughs*

This drives me nuts, because it implies that if you don't 'win?' You failed. You didn't do something. You didn't get help from the Right People. You were - unlucky. You can fill in the blank. Shoot, go ahead - co-op God. For good or ill. It's done. You know what it sounds like, you've heard it.

Here's your warning. You do this around me, you're going to get it.

You get to work as hard as you ever have - for vanishing returns. Maybe no returns at all, but you do it anyway because you want out of this nightmare and that's the only way that looks promising. You live in an acute awareness of being that is both a curse and a blessing. You wish you could have the day of a lifetime - because it could be your last, and tomorrow could be worse - and have to deal with the reality that this day has more suck (and no money) in it than anything else, and you can't. But you endure it - hoping tomorrow will be different. But today, you enjoy the sunlight. The rain. Whatever you can grab - because this is your time, the only time you are going to get. And you know you must make the most of it. It's all you'll get. Vitally aware.

Vitally aware you're getting the short end, but you make the best of it. It is what it is.

Fight. Fight what? Something that sits on your chest, sucks your blood, kills you from the inside out, short-circuits your nervous system, plays with your body chemistry like some science project from 6th grade, what? Oh yeah, that'll work.

Shelton did something wonderful. He told everyone what it was like. He took it in, hoped for the best and just did what he could. Hope's Voice. Dear God.

There's little braver than enduring a transplant, in my book. To consider it, do it and when it stops working? To consider doing it again? And why?

She failed the saving throw on the genetics. Yeah, I'd give the whole mess the finger. Cliff certainly did often enough.

I remember the absolute smugness Cliff had on his 35th birthday. He'd made it. He wouldn't see two more birthdays - but he'd made it to 35 when everyone said he wouldn't.

Fight. You wish. You manage to endure and survive these things, if you can. That's all.

Let me tell you something. This ain't no dress rehearsal. This is all you're going to get. One day, one hour, one moment at a time - and when it's gone, it's gone for good. It's not coming back for you to try again, this moment. Not ever.

So don't be surprised if I'm willing to do whatever I must to avoid being unhappy a single moment if I don't have to. Regret, sadness, whatever - those things are part of a healthy acceptance of life and its realities. But if depression rolls around? No. I spent too much time there already - and I know too much now to ever go back there. I don't deserve it. Nobody does.

And it's a fucking lie. Test those boundaries, push that envelope - it'll give. Promise. You won't die - of fail, embarrassment or panic. Hang in there, grab on by your fingernails and don't let go. Look for what is true and unchanging - the rest of the world is no more perfect than you are. Things fall down. It's okay. You deal. You move on. Let it be. It'll be okay, really. Trust me. Trust yourself.

I want to live my life in near exhaustion - every day as full as I can make it, curious about what's around the corner and willing to give it a go, even if I fall on my face. Like nobody's watching (and really, who is?). Hard to hit. Always in motion.

I'll never feel sorry for you if I see you need a shove back onto your feet more. Come on - your life is calling, can you hear it? Are you listening for someone else to relay the message instead (don't)? Get up, pay no attention to that bullshit hiding behind the curtain whispering threats. Deal. Cope. Work. (It's all just work, didn't anyone tell you that?)

You don't need anyone to tell you you're awesome. You just are. Accept it, tuck it close to your heart of hearts and never forget it. You're the first one to know this - nobody else can make it stick if you don't hear that from the bottom of your soul.

Strive. Get out in front and make it look like a parade. Fake it. You'll make it, eventually. No other choice - if you keep at it.

But this is IT. No do-overs, no going back to make changes. No rewrites.

Do your best.
Clean up your own messes.
Be aware of your impact on others.

People rock. You rock and you don't even know it yet.

Now get to work.

SNARK MODE=OFF

You'll hear me rant about overmedication a lot - well, it's a sore point. Giving pills is cheap - compared to long-term talk counseling with active therapy. Trouble is, the pills stop working. Oh, you can cycle through a ton of stuff - it's out there - but the expensive, labor-intensive-with-a-real-person is where long term results lie (unless you're one of the people who truly HAVE a chemical issue, and one of the hallmarks of THAT is the pills don't stop working and you don't have to cycle, yadda ya).

Then I hear about Cymbalta. Holy chrome. This stuff is being prescribed off-label right, left and center for things OTHER than depression...and damn if it isn't doing some incredible things, mostly related to pain relief (and we all know I think that's going to be HUGE when it happens).

But for depression? *wiggles hand* Not so much. Read about coming off it and UH.

...and so many, many reports are from people who came to this medication because - you guessed it - they needed to cycle from something else.

I have to wonder about what this all about - and if the cycling is a Good Thing, or a sign that this is not the right way to treat depression, period.

Yeah, maybe I do more than wonder. Like - NO.

Here's a thought for the day - isn't it still addiction when it's legal and you don't have to worry about getting it on a daily basis? You go without and you're not going to feel good, yanno. But get your drug and everything is fine.

What makes that okay?

As for me, I'll pass. And yes, I know that's a privilege.