In that vein I’m going to confess that one of the most frustratingly repetitive phenomena is the mutual need for us to self-censor our lives because we turn the details into ammunition for later fights. We both self-censor our whole lives when we talk to one another. It sucks. It stinks. It is a hundred other negative things and it is an immense source of stress.
Mariah: so what do you mean by self censoring, because to me that just sounds like lying
I posted that over on This Too Shall Pass (later, Misadventures) on March 27 last. Nested below is Mariah’s response from a few hours later. Mariah and I intentionally omit, outright censor, forgetfully neglect to mention, diffuse, dress-up, broach obliquely, describe in passing, dilute, compress, compact, disseminate indirectly, outright ignore, playfully misdirect, coyly mislead, interpret literally, mumble and occasionally mutter under our breaths, but we never lie, ever. Lying would be just plain disrespectful.
Before, at, and after the time of this blog post we continued to curate our own public posts to reflect a certain image, while each of us used the other’s works as bullets for the gun; just in the last few weeks I got tired of Mariah’s comments about me on her Facebook page, her blog and various forums about me and confronted her over the phone about it. On the whole, kinda dumb and obsessive: We spied on each other and bitched loudly about what we saw. Now, in the aftermath, I’m left scavenging for any news about Caira and Garrett while Mariah deals with her mortal fear that if I find out her new address I’ll swoop in at midnight with a team of commandos to steal them.
So we censor, and we censor for good reason on both sides. Enough her.
I’ve been severely depressed for some time now; definitely since I’ve come home from America and probably before I came home from America. My darkest day came in mid-May when I almost hung myself in a haze of self-loathing after I put my iPod into the washing machine. It frightened me into going to get professional medical help and bringing the whole thing up with my family. I spoke at length with a psychologist (Diana: I forget your last name :[ )who basically told me that the stress of constant fights with my wife were bringing me down and down. So stop the fights. Take these antidepressant pills.
I tried. It worked. Kinda. June was a null month: I spent three or four weeks doing little more than sitting down and staring at a proverbial wall for hours on end. Toward the end of last month I started this blog as a way to channel myself into useful and productive and since coming into this month I’ve been working to interact more in person – I was in Dublin last weekend, I will be going to an 091 Labs meeting on Tuesday coming and I have my place booked for the dot conf one day conference in Dublin for July 22 coming.
I’m on the up. I’m starting to acknowledge at an emotional level that yes, there is some kind of future for me.