The Black Dog Slinks Back

So, after a few really good weeks, the depression has flared.

Joy.

I am hoping this is just my hormones. I am REALLY hoping this is just my hormones. I can't take another bout of wanting to die, honestly. I need my energy for the final push on my rewrite, not for a crying jag.

Ah, well.

I hate these times of transition, the time when life goes into flux. I have these periods of clarity & strength & then-WHAM. And when the chemistry goes out of whack, the smallest thing seems huge. This morning is bothering me. It shouldn't be, but it is. I guess because all of my artistic endeavors (isn't THAT a precious phrase) revolve around my sense of humor & fun, I hate it when someone else doesn't get the joke.

And right now, I really feel stranded & alone & like nothing is going to change.

Xanax, take me away. Yeah. *sigh* I have to ask myself what is the difference between needing a drink, a toke, a snort, a hit, whatfucking ever the latest street word is, and a Xanax?  Aside from the fact that the Xanax is legal & prescribed by a physician, what is the fucking difference? They're all drugs. They all cause different chemical reactions in the brain.

And while I am not about to start taking crystal meth or shooting heroin, i still have to ask: what's the difference? Because the Xanax will bring me to a societal approximation of normal, therefore, it's OK. Well, maybe my mind & body are rejecting societal normal because it's NOT OK. Maybe, just maybe, what has become acceptable really isn't at base human.  Really what we're putting ourselves through in our high tech, super privilegedl disconnected, over-informed & undereducated world is NOT good for our bodies, our minds, our souls.

But then, what do I know? I'm depressed.