On Depression And Its Many Nuances

October 15, 2014

Have any of you ever used Google as your own personal dictionary? I do frequently. I am actually a bigger fan of Google than I am of Messieurs Merriam and Webster. Why do you ask? Let me count the ways...

1. All I have to do is open a new tab in my Google Chrome browser and type, "define: [insert word here]" and I have the definition. Just like that.
2. There are no distracting adverts in the margins of my web browser that slow down my computer. I cannot describe what pure bliss can be found in the lack of Charter TV, audible.com, or AutoTrader.com adverts. Also, my tab doesn't have the continuous loading circle of death (which, while understandably annoying, is a step up from its Mac counterpart, the infamous pinwheel of death).   
3. All the possible definitions can be found in a condensed, easy-to-read format.
4. There are awesome graphics that track the usage of the word in various media formats. I am not going to lie. This is my favorite feature. Check out my awesome graphic below.

This graphic shows the use of the word "depression" over time. According to Google, depression is a word that originated in late Middle English, taken from the Latin word "deprimere," which means "to press down." 

I find that to be an interesting association. "To press down." How very true. Very much pressing. Very much down. Yes. I like it. 

I had originally started this post with the intention of looking up the definition of "depression" and then using that as a launching pad for chronicling my own experiences with depression and the way it is shaping my life at the moment. 

But, like many things in my life nowadays, I find such a task too difficult. Like I mentioned before, a very much "pressing down" sensation. So I suppose that I shall mention some snippets and hope that I will have the emotional and mental strength to chronicle this experience at a later date. 

Some Facets Of My Depression

1. My sleeping schedule is almost completely opposite a normal person's. I go to bed anywhere from 6 am to 11 am and sleep until 4 pm to 7pm. If I was to take the 12 hour inverse of this schedule, I would either be an elderly person or a very productive person indeed.
2. I haven't been to class in quite a long while. And I'm not sure I want to go back.
3. I eat one meal a day. Usually dinner. And I can never clean my plate. 
4. I have started seeing a therapist and am unsure how I feel about that fact. And all the character failings that I have always thought to be associated with such a need. 
5. I feel the need to recharge after social interaction. I am very much not the Energizer bunny in this situation. There is no "going and going and going" going on here. 
6. I tentatively ventured into the realm of reddit.com and, more specifically, the depression forum on reddit.com. It was not helpful at all. It was, in fact, quite frightening. Reaching out to strangers on the Internet did not make this better. I did make an attempt to try, via answering someone else's post, and I shall copy it down below, as a record for posterity. 

Re-reading it I find that it is probably more about me than it is about the original post. Which was not well done of me, I admit. However, I think that there must be something here, otherwise I would not have felt compelled to write quite so much. So below is my response to a post on reddit.com entitled, "What do you do when you're bored, but you don't want to do anything, not even sleep..."

"I wish I had the answers to your questions. Partly because you sound like you are in a lot of pain. Partly because I have some of the same questions and problems.

I'm searching for something to say, but all I can think of are a whole bunch of cheesy one-liners from Disney movies and cliches from self-help books. Neither of which provide any comfort whatsoever.

I keep thinking that if I talk about this enough, if I can accept enough, or analyze enough, or problem-solve enough, I'll be able to find some magical switch that will snap me out of this pervasive apathy that has enveloped my life. Well, maybe "magical switch" isn't quite the right phrase here. I think "magical pill" is the more pervasive myth in our society. But either way, I keep thinking if I somehow tweak something in my life just so, I'll managed to drag myself out of this dark, dank pit I have fashioned for myself. And it keeps... failing.

Which is frustrating. I hate failing. It smacks of inadequacy and a distinct lack of intelligence. Which is the whole problem, right? The dissonance between my supposed intelligence and the reality of where my life is right now. I totally get what you were saying, about being unable to imagine your life beyond some small apartment where you watch T.V. all day and watch the rest of your life pass you by through a haze of apathy and loneliness. Which you know, deep down, is at least partially self-inflicted. And this is what really gets you, because you feel that if you are smart enough to be able to see what is going to wrong with your life you should be able to stop it somehow. If Choice A results in Outcome B [Outcome B being crippling depression and general feelings of suckiness], then don't make Choice A you stupid, self-absorbed, depressed ninny. And yet... Choice A it is.

And then, if you extend this thought process further, it lends itself to an almost martyr-esque mentality, where you believe that because you are the one who made all these decisions that lead to all of these outcomes, it's not right of you to dump it all in someone else's lap and go, "Here, fix me!" Who are they to have to fix your problems? Especially when half of them feel self-inflicted. And even when you convince yourself to overcome your own inhibitions and pull a kindergarten-share-circle moment, most of the time it doesn't turn out the way you expected. Maybe it's because they are unable to see past themselves and their own problems. Maybe it's because they have their own stressors in life that make them unable to help anyone beyond themselves. Maybe it's a communication problem, or a simple lack of understanding of the depths of your depression. Maybe they want to help but are afraid of making the problem worse. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The end result is, you took a risk, and still you find yourself in the same place, with the same problem, and still no way to fix this crippling inability to actually live your life like a semi-normal person.

I don't know how you fix that. Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't seem to feel the need to write an extensive monologue about it. I don't know how to combat the pervasive boredom, the unending apathy.

I guess the point of this whole thing is that I wanted you to know... I don't know. Everything I can think of to say goes back to the aforementioned "Disney and self-help book" sentiment. I guess I saw your post and felt compelled to say... something. Anything. It reminded me of myself in a lot of ways (if not already evident by the extensive use of the word "I" in this comment), and I was struck by the fact that there was actually someone out there who seemed to "get it" in a way that is so similar to myself. Someone who was as self-aware of their depression and all that it entailed. And the various ways it was screwing with your world view.

I'm usually not a big fan of posting these kinds of things on the Internet, but I figured that if you were someone who could write something that brutally honest and post it online, then I could write you an equally honest reply in return. I don't know if this has helped or not, but I guess I just wanted you to know that there was someone out there, in the vast environs of the Internet, who kind of, sort of, got it. And who hopes that somehow, someday, you will find a way to see beyond the apartment and the television and the potential alcoholism and the potential drug habit and the Youtube and the twitch feeds (or whatever you called it; I'm kind of lost on what exactly that is...), to find something that makes life worth living. Because that's the ultimate problem, don't you think? Finding something that conquers that boredom and apathy? Something that pulls you out of yourself? Well... At least, that's my current theory.

Anyways, the point is, I wish you luck."

So yes. The current struggle. Wish me luck, dear audience. I think I shall need quite a lot of it. 

I Can't Help Myself. This Is A Problem.

August 16, 2014

So, with my tender sensibilities all bruised by Steven Moffat and his careless, cryptic words, I felt the need to share with you one of the most amazing videos done by a Sherlock and  Molly fan I have ever found. Nyah86Production, you deserve to work on television. Like Bones. Or Grey's Anatomy. Or something. 

All the dialogue between the characters in this video came from the series. As did all the clips. My favorite part? The look on Sherlock's face after Molly says the words, "I don't count." It just makes something inside my chest twist. Bravo Benedict Cumberbatch. This is why you will always be my favorite Sherlock Holmes. 

Enjoy.

On Sherlock And Molly And Why Steven Moffat Is One Confusing Bastard

August 15, 2014

NOTE: It has come to my attention, re-reading this post while I'm composing it, that I may perhaps sound like a crazy,obsessive nerd during the course of this whole endeavor. If you don't want to read about things both excessively nerdy and (although I hate to say this) excessively fan-girly, then I suggest you find something better to do with your Internet. Like buying things on Amazon. And stalking people on Facebook. Whatever you "cool" and un-nerdy people do with your Internet. Right. Onwards then!


I think that I have mentioned in passing that from time to time I delve into the dark recesses of the Internet where Fanfiction resides. I usually keep these times to myself, typically being in a mood that is not conducive to socialization, but this time I cannot hold it in and keep it to myself. And it is because Steven Moffat is an utterly cryptic bastard. Curse you Steven Moffat!

Ah yes. I should probably explain this. 

First pertinent point: I have dived into the world of Sherlock Fanfiction. And it can be a dark and scary place if you don't watch yourself (although this is to be expected from a TV show featuring unusual murders, a Consulting Criminal, a female dominatrix, and which has a highly functioning sociopath -his words, not mine- for a main character). 

Oh, and as an aside, if you haven't seen the BBC modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's infamous character, for God's sake, WATCH IT! All three seasons are on Netflix. When I heard that the next season wasn't coming out until 20-frigging-16 I about collapsed into a puddle of utter despair. This show makes me laugh, makes me shout, makes me weep, makes me want to put bullets in things, and oddly enough makes me want to snog the bejeezus out of Sherlock Holmes because, as Irene Adler once said, "Brainy's the new sexy."

Second, and no less pertinent, point: I am a huge fan of Molly Hooper, who is the only regular character on the show that is not from Doyle's original works. Which I think is one of the most amazing things about the show. There are so many reasons to love Molly Hooper. How do I count the ways? I can't. The amazingness is unlimited. Suffice to say that while I don't feel like I would ever personally act like Molly, she is complex enough, intelligent enough, funny enough, and just plain awesome enough that when I read Fanfiction, the only kind that I can bring myself to read is one where: A) Molly is one of the main characters, and B) Paired with Sherlock Holmes. Because their relationship is just offbeat yet adorable enough that it makes me want to squeal like some kind of teenage girl every time I see them interact on screen. (Alright, not every time. But most times. And if I'm not squealing, I'm wanting to smack Sherlock in the face. Which Molly did by the way! See?! AWESOMENESS!)

Erhm. Yes. Anyways.

Third point (and probably the one you were wondering about): Steven Moffat. The creative genius whom I would like to hurt very badly in numerous creative ways. He is one of the primary creators/writers of the show. The other being Mark Gattis, the show's co-creator who also plays Sherlock's older brother Mycroft. Who is so delightfully snarky and just a tad bit evil. But back to Moffat. 

I was happy with Moffat. He helped create one of my absolute favorite adaptations of my favorite detective of all time. And he had the good sense to cast Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes! And then I read an interview that he did after Season Three was aired, talking about Sherlock and where it was going and blah, blah, blah... That's not important right now. He screwed it all up at the end and now I'm pissed at him. Steven Moffat, I hope you accidentally take a tumble off a very steep hillside. Not a cliff, because I don't want you dead before you fix this, but I wouldn't be opposed to some severe maiming and general discomfort. 

So Moffat is talking about Molly Hooper's evolution as a character and her role in Sherlock's mind palace when he's shot (really guys, watch this show, now!) and I'm all happy thinking I'm going to get some kind of answer or hint from his response that will hold me until 20-freaking-16! when Moffat opens his fat gob and says this:

"She’s developed hugely. She wasn’t even meant to come back after her first appearance, but she worked so well. Louise Brealey [actress who plays Molly Hooper] was so good. The girl with the unrequited crush became the first person to make Sherlock apologize in “A Scandal in Belgravia,” and then you see it really shift around. Whereas all of Sherlock’s emotion on the rooftop when he’s talking to John in “The Reichenbach Fall” is completely faked — he’s just trying to give his friend a bad time so he’ll be in an emotional state to believe what’s about to happen — the emotion when Sherlock turns up to Molly in that episode and says “I need you,” I mean, it’s amazing everyone didn’t just get it right there. For God’s sake, what do you think he’s thinking about? He’s gone to a woman who works in a morgue — what do you think happens next? So she’s become one of a very small select band of people he absolutely trusts. And he adores Molly, of course he does. He loves her. I don’t think she has the same sort of crush on him anymore. She’s fascinated by him, but she knows that’s not who she actually wants to end up with. She properly cares about him — and gets angry at him, and tells him off. It’s revealing that she’s in his mind palace. She’s one of the people he keeps himself up to the mark with."

I took this interview from vulture.com, by the way. Hope that's enough to avoid plagiarism and all that rot. Back to the real problem here.

WHAT THE CRAP DOES HE MEAN "What do you think happens next?" and "It's amazing that everyone doesn't get it right there"? THAT IS NOT CLEAR AT ALL, STEVEN MOFFAT! And this following the words, "For God's sake, what do you think he's thinking about?" CURSE YOU STEVEN MOFFAT AND YOUR AMBIGUOUS WORD CHOICE AND SENTENCE CONSTRUCTION! 

And then, and then! He goes and says, "He loves her." Just like that. No elaboration. No... expansion upon the subject. He just then goes on to talk about how Molly OBVIOUSLY doesn't love Sherlock that way anymore and that OF COURSE she doesn't want to end up with him. YOU DID NOT MAKE THIS CLEAR, STEVEN MOFFAT! AND I AM EXTREMELY PEEVED THAT YOU ARE MAKING THIS DECISION. 

Besides, why not let her marry "Meat Dagger" Tom if she's not all hung up on Sherlock anymore, hmmm? And what's with all the confusing glances and letting her freaking SLAP SHERLOCK IN THE FACE?! Agh!!! 

And if that's not evil enough... You just had to end it with a little hint. The smallest crumb that might indicate a shift in their relationship. "It's revealing that she's in his mind palace," he says. Pox on you, Steven Moffat. Pox. On. You.

Herein ends my rant about Steven Moffat. May he be munched on by flesh eating beetles and dropped in a tar pit. Back to my Fanfiction I go, to nurse my wounds and pretend that Steven Moffat isn't such a complete and utter arse. I'll see you all when I resurface. 

And for goodness sakes, watch Sherlock! Because otherwise I'm afraid you all are going to think that I've completely lost my mind. And I haven't. I've just stressed it a bit.