PANIC ON THE STREETS OF YOUR TOWN

I have not felt well since just before the end of November… that was when I first felt the lows of my current state.  Granted, there have been some positive, good moments… the company holiday party was one, where I got the chance to escort a date to socialize among me and my co-workers.  Of course the HUGE bowl win by Michigan State in the Cotton Bowl was but another moment that has helped to keep me buoyed amongst the waves.  

Additionally, I have not shirked from socializing.  I already know how helpful that can be in times such as this, and I have more than obliged myself to being social.  I went with a co-worker, her boyfriend and his brother, three other women who were their friends and guests’ at the Fitness Center, to watch State play Iowa not too long ago.  My co-worker has a first cousin who is a key player and starter for the Hawkeyes, and that was a fun evening.  The point is, that along with my fitness posts on Facebook, I am not simply sitting around and allowing myself to be overcome with depression.  One of the reasons that I have thought to objectify the darkness that clouds me as “the little black dog”, is that 1) That always sounded cool, and it was borrowed from Winston Churchill, one of my idols, and 2)  The purpose of objectifying my feelings allowed me to feel more in control of things… I recognized very early in my teen years what depression was and was not, and despite the sad truth of what Anthony Griffith mentioned in his spoken word performance about the African-American community and psychology, that I had never really felt the weight of depression.  That is, until my diagnosis, and it was then that the romance of being in a depression fell apart for me and the psychology, the clinical expression of it became a part of my life.

Still, I treat it as an intruder, not out of denial, but out of a evidentiary study of my life and my character.  I am doing well in nearly every area of my life and being.  Admittedly, not as well as perhaps I should be doing, but then, who really IS doing as well as they should be doing.  For me, it is a “drag coefficient” that is a part of the engineering and design of my life… and it is something that I will work through.

I feel that how I handle my episodes relates to my general handling of my condition… I know what is “me” and because I do, I remain confident that I am still “mine”.  This is an aspect of me that is often overlooked because of how I present myself to people and my lack of overt cynicism.  I have always believed that happiness is a conscious choice to be made, and not a random point to be achieved.  And this is a decision that I made a long time ago, with nothing but the intuition of a child.  It is a decision that has kept me from despair my entire life, including now.

Also, I have been “doing me”, not only have I been working out with a competitive preparedness, but doing the kinds of things that I had always had done alone, but had high hopes of sharing with someone that was special to me and that I, likewise, was special to them.  Recently, I have seen two movies, one at the Film Streams Theatre near downtown and one on Netflix that I had missed during its first run.  Both were commentaries about youth culture (among other things), the first, “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night”, which was a twist on the “Twilight” film series, with a little Iranian twist to it.  The latter film, “We Are The Best”, was another teen movie with two girls, punk outcasts, finding their place with music.

So you see I have decided to do more of the “me” things that I had intended on doing once I got to Omaha. While you had to read subtitles (the former in Farsi and the latter in Swedish), I thought vaguely about with whom I know in Omaha that would have enjoyed either a night out or in watching either film with me. It was among the briefest flicker of thoughts, and I resumed digesting the wonderful times that I had spending making myself happy.

WE GOTTA FIGURE OUT WHAT OUR FORMULA IS

Along with the Anthony Griffith video of his Moth Stage talk, I have watching one of my playlists on You Tube titled “My Psychological Motivations” pretty regularly these past few weeks as well.  So that meant a lot of “Blake”, “Coach Gaines” and of course, “Mike Singletary” for me to ruminate upon.

In choosing to reboot my life alone and on my own, there were things that I had to discover about not only my abilities, but the things that are challenging for me.  Belied by the kind of symmetry in my life that makes even the most jaded wonder if things aren’t “planned” on another level, I have a doctrine that not only fits my personal character, but is founded on the wisdom of the ages and is universal.  And it is precisely because of this emotional/cognitive foundation that I have that has me confident that I will manage this, and any future, difficult times in my life.

What I would like to speak to is my belief that there not only “is” no one for me to call upon for help of any kind, but the reality of it.  While I would not doubt my ability to get someone to give me a ride to the grocer’s in the Motor, South Bend, Chicago, or daresay, New Jersey, I have concrete reasons to dismiss the probability of doing the same here in Omaha.  Understand:  I do realize that the reasons I have to support my belief is subjective, but it is NOT speculative.  My “Eclectic Method”, my personal theories to my life, are not drawn upon guesswork.  The scientific method is the backbone of my philosophical design, and that is why at this point in my life I may seem to be so resolute and obstinate to letting people into my life without cause.

The formula that I have been working for nearly a decade now, has brought me to the point where I can say that I have made appreciable gains in nearly every level of my life, at pretty much every measurable metric, in every area of life that counts.  My bouts with depression and the pressing desire for the comfort of being in the company of my siblings in our childhood (I have identified the sought for desire to alleviate my anxieties, but not its source) beds and skip-rope competitions, and the like, cannot and will never be entrusted in the hands of those who have demonstrated that they cannot be anyone that has demonstrated their unreliability.  After all, why would I have left “the provincial town that I once jogged ‘round” if I was going to make such a choice?