Down The Rabbit Hole

Hello again.  It’s been a while.  I have no excuse other than the usual one: too much compulsory stuff to do.  The sad fact is that, as much as I may prefer blogging to pretty much anything else, if I have stuff floating around which I can’t put off any longer, then it will inevitably have to be prioritised.  Whether I like it or not.

I’m posting in a lethargic and somewhat apathetic way today.  It seems like, for quite a while now, I have been using up most of my energy on warding off potential Phases.  For those who don’t know me, I use the word Phase With A Capital P to mean a depressive episode (yes, I make up words, and yes, I have been diagnosed but don’t like using the term – so sue me).  I am used to having several per year, with 2011 being the only exception so far.  Once my gender issues had been dealt with in the correct manner, ie. as a cause for my weird mental health along with my AS and various other things, but not something to be “cured”, my Phases began to mysteriously fade away.  And with them went my other Bad Habits.

University, for the most part, has been incredibly good for my mental health.  Which is miraculous, frankly, when you think about how difficult a choice it was to even attempt such a transition.  But now it’s beginning to take its toll, and I feel like I’m tumbling down the rabbit hole all over again.

Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m posting this.  I know that it’s linked to places where people know me and could potentially read it (not that anyone would want to).  And I’m fairly used to anything of this kind being “accidentally ignored” by people who don’t want to deal with it.  And normally, that’s fine.  I’m used to it.  Why break the tradition?  Out of pathetic, desperate hope, I suppose.

No one who has dealt with this kind of thing personally would need to hear this explained.  But when someone is visibly depressed, it is actually not the greatest idea in the world to “give them space”.  Maybe, for some, it would be.  But when you’re suicidal and your self-esteem is at rock bottom… and then all your friends are nowhere to be found, you lack the ability to rationalise that behaviour.  People can’t stand to be around you.  Naturally.  Even the people who supposedly respect you don’t care enough to even ask if you’re all right.  And those that do are often lost for words when you give a simple, honest answer: no.  I’m not.  I’m suffering.  And all I want to know is that people care.  That’s enough to keep my head above water, most of the time.

I know it’s hard to handle if you’ve never had problems of this kind.  I know you’re worried about making it worse.  I know you have no idea what you can say or do that could possibly make a difference.  Often though, you don’t need to say anything.

And I know it’s even easier to ignore if you’re not having to witness it every day.  But that’s not an excuse.  Yes, it may be difficult for you.  But just try and imagine how I’m feeling.  I don’t like the attention when someone does notice.  I don’t want to be pitied.  I don’t want to be seen as weak.  But I’ll gladly accept it, even if it makes me feel guilty for taking up your time.  Because I’ll get better so much faster, and then you won’t have to deal with it for long.  It’s win-win.

This is not aimed at anyone in particular, please note.  I’m ranting because it’s what I’m thinking at the moment, and ranting on a computer screen – albeit unintelligibly – is a whole lot better than what I could be doing right now.  And I’m not far off.  All the above paragraphs were written in anticipation of what will most likely happen anyway, namely… nothing.  Because I’m barely here at the moment, and I’m hoping that this won’t go unnoticed as have all my previous attempts to reach out.

This is not a guilt trip.  This is an education.  And not everyone who reads this will need one.

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About JC

I'm a no-longer-nameless trans asexual autistic, chemistry undergraduate at a London university, pronoun enthusiast, amateur photographer and budding proofreader. Son of Optimus. Join me and be amazed. Or just join me. The sense of awe and wonder is optional.
This entry was posted in Life, Mental Health, Negatives, Soapbox and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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