I Am Jack’s Deadpan Serious Face

I find myself again in a place of mental crisis. The job is not going poorly, it’s me that is doing poorly. I have dropped down to part-time, which, on one hand, will be more manageable, but puts me back in a financial situation that makes it difficult to survive, let alone thrive.

I feel like a failure. I wonder what magic pill the doctors can give me to make me someone completely different than how I am.

Depression has taken hold of me, and I don’t want to feel like this.

I should have deleted this, but if it starts a conversation, maybe I’ll feel better.

9 thoughts on “I Am Jack’s Deadpan Serious Face

  1. You’re not a failure. There, that’s my contribution to the conversation.

    From my armchair across the pond on the south coast of England, I’d say you’re spinning lots of plates. Sometimes they can’t all be kept spinning at once. Sometimes you have to let a plate fall so that you can find your rhythm again. I reckon that might be where you are. There are plenty more replacement plates – I’ve not heard that there’s a worldwide plate shortage.

    Would you really want to be someone else? I know that feeling. I distinctly remember a time when I envied the men who came down the street with the dustcart because their lives looked so much easier and far less full of dark days than mine was at the time. I doubt their lives were so rose-tinted. Just different. Definitely smellier.

    I know there’s nothing I can say to help. Sadly, no magic pill. But you’ve started a conversation and you’re not alone. Someone in a different time zone is thinking of you.

    Keep well. I dare you.

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      1. The enticement is fake. It is a false idol, like the Golden Calf. Of course it’s frightening. It’s good that it’s frightening. Write it out. None of it has to make any sense, none of it has to be read by anyone else, let alone you. Write about it, file it away, do it again tomorrow if you have to. Make it into a monster, write about it as if you were in someone else’s shoes, or if you were the black dog itself. Whilst you’re writing, it can’t swallow you whole.

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    1. I’m all fucked up in the head. Saw the doctor yesterday, she’s changing up my meds, so we’ll see if that helps. I do realize that I have a lot of situational stress — that anyone going through what I’m going through would have a hard time — but I still worry about my mental state.

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      1. I hope the meds help.
        It’s normal to worry, right? Worry is part of our human condition. It’s when you stop worrying that I would start to worry. Something like that anyway.

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  2. I am going to sound all “woo-woo fairy dust” right now, but I am speaking from the heart and from my own personal journey. While you definitely are juggling more intense balls than me at the moment, I have been in a deep struggle for several years. I finally invested in myself to make the changes I need to make. That’s a long story, but I’ve been learning some skills that are truly helping me, and I want to offer them to you. 10-10-10. Three simple things that are helping me work through my own darkness. 10 minutes of meditation (I know, but it really is working), writing down 10 things I am grateful for each day (sometimes it is hard, but recognizing the good things is so valuable). Writing down 10 brags every day (this is even more difficult for me, celebrating myself even when I don’t see all the good things). I do all of this in a journal, and also keep a separate list of affirmations that I reread daily.

    Be kind to yourself. Know that you are loved and valued. Take the chance to practice some of these skills that will help Since I started, I look younger. I feel better. I have hope. I’m writing more. You can do this too. I’ve got your back.

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  3. I wish I held some profound wisdom which I could share (or perhaps some magical spell or miraculous pill) that would fix it all, but all I can tell you is that you’re not alone. We’re in this together.

    Liked by 1 person

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