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I’m alive, even though the status of my blog has been questionable at best. Moving it? Yep. It’s coming. I’ve already moved the Threeravens blog/site – this one is next on the list. Keep tuned for updates on how that’s going.

I’ve been sleeping in totally weird bursts of time. It makes me feel disjointed.

Mostly, I’ve been in a self-imposed social blackout, for regrouping and mental health reasons. I’m shuffling back into regular rotation now, never fear.

And one quick hit –

From this amazingly accurate post on Depression and what it does:

Chronic depression is a cancer of the personality. It eats your personality and replaces you with itself; the more you experience intense depression in others, the more you realize that The Depressed Person is always some variant of the same personality; whereas healthy people are infinitely diverse, The Depressed Person is always recognizable. Depression is insidious, so that your loved ones may not realize that you are being slowly erased and replaced by something that is not you.

I recommend reading the whole post, from http://ewin.livejournal.com/1332469.html.

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xiane: (Default)

And she is not good or bad
Oh, but she wants all she could have
Your soul’s familiar call
This is it… I am and
It’s not like me

[Claire Voyant - not like me]

My silence is equal to my lack of passion. I am adrift in a sea of “I don’t care” and “I’m too tired” and “It doesn’t matter” - but it does matter and I do care, I’m just too tired and pained to admit it or do anything about it.

Depression is embarrassing. It’s humiliating to admit that I don’t have the drive to finish anything, that all I do seems to be sit around on my ass and think of nothing, or dream wistfully about the things I’d like to be accomplishing, if only I had the passion, the energy, the stamina, the will.

And people look at me and see a “healthy” person, which I can’t blame them for - and they wonder why I can’t just shake this off and get to doing… obviously it should be that easy. Just make yourself motivate, Xi.

It isn’t. I wish it was.

BEIJING, CHINA - FEBRUARY 2:   A man views dre...
Image by Getty Images via Daylife

I went to NYC recently. For most of the time I was there, I was energized, more than I have been in ages. I came home full of hope, ideas, thoughts.
I know that living here takes away some of that zest for life… no sidewalks, no bustling creative energies, no ever-changing wall of humanity to observe. I barely even have friends here. And of course, I’ve been becoming more isolated again, but that’s a side effect of the depression, too, that need to cut myself off from everything. It hurts me to be open like that - physically hurts. That stupid Cymbalta commercial about depression hurting? I really wish it wasn’t true. I get an ache inside, like someone was slowly squeezing my heart and lungs. My bones ache. I feel weak and ineffective.

What’s worse is that I hate hate hate talking about it, admitting it, telling people just what’s going on and how I feel. Like I said, it’s embarrassing… and I know that so many people discount these feelings. I understand it, and I wish I didn’t sound so whiny and weak. But I guess the only other options would be to either fake that everything is fine, or stop talking again. And I am tired of not communicating. I know that hurts my friends and family, too… and there’s enough hurt going on already without that.

And you might tell me the truth
And I might be reminded of you
In everything I see and that I feel
You might be…

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January 2016

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