[no title]

Perhaps you read the thing where I mentioned I had a new job, a stationary one, with a computer and desk and all that good shit, and perhaps you read how excited I was to no longer be a customer service jockey.

Well, as it turns out, this job brought with it a relapse of sorts. The depression is back, complete with having to step outside for some fresh air and holding back tears as I stare at a computer with literally nothing offensive on it. I've started a larger dose of the medicine I was taking, but it will take a month or so to determine if it's effective. In the meantime I'm just trying to remain functional as my heart races and my emotions cease to exist.

In thinking on that and in an attempt to distract myself from the lethargy, I'd like to say that I think "depression" and "anxiety" are not good titles. Mostly because when someone says they're depressed, there is a cause implied - and therefore a solution. The same can be said of anxiety - a person feels anxious because. Clinical depression and anxiety, in my experience at least, are not justified at all. There is no reason or solution, and searching for one only leads me to unsolvable existential questions and nihilistic dilemmas. Perhaps my many nights in high school spent awake for hours crying over the inevitable demise of everything I love will save my from a mid-life crises, but that's a small salve.

No, what I experience has no reason beyond the chemical. Something in my brain does not work the way it should. I can be in a situation where I was perfectly content, perhaps even happy to be in before, and suddenly all pleasant emotions fade away. I can reach for them, grasp as the wisps fade out, but they're gone and I can't bring them back. I can sit there and fake it, smile and chuckle at jokes, but even as those around me revel in mirth it feels like watching a party you weren't invited to from across the street, a mockery of the joy you're not able to feel. And even should others commiserate there's no solidarity - there is only despair and anger that, instead of helping, they have fallen down with me.

I can recall from my middle school and high school days being caught crying by people, despite trying to hide it - they would always ask what was wrong, and I would respond with whatever I had dredged up from the depths of my mind. Sometimes it was easy and readily available - my friend moved away, something about a bully, etcetera. Other times it was the disconcerting nihilism - what if there really is nothing when we die?

While everyone who I brought these problems to made very valiant attempts to help me - and some of their answers were quite good and have surely shaped me into who I am today - they never felt satisfactory at the time. I could understand what I was told and how they related to my concerns - but that did nothing for the pain. Typically I only was able to cope by distracting myself, typically with Populous or other video games until the feeling had passed. If I was trying to sleep, I would often simply end up crying until I passed out.

But, alas, this long winded tirade actually had a ghost of a point to it. See, as I sit here at my computer at work and feel tears threatening behind my eyes, what I fear is that someone will want to help. They will ask what is wrong. I will have no satisfactory answer. To respond "nothing" is a lie, and to respond "I'm depressed" is redundant, and only elicit the further question of "why", to which the answer is either long, complicated medical terminology which few will understand or intangible concepts that few can truly relate to. Even my mother, after many months of explaining, will still offer biblical passages and standard motivational poster lines. I'm not sure she understands, even though I've told her that there is no reason - just pain.

This is mostly a stream of consciousness, and it seems to have done it's job at keeping me from falling into that dreaded pit of despair while there are others nearby. There may be more of these in the future, but I really hope I won't have the need.