On Brains · 4:33pm Sep 2nd, 2022
A nice breezy dialogue to ease in with:
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: So, a hypothetical conservation for you.
CARABAS: Two lines in and we’ve already got fictional discourse nested in the initial fictional discourse. Gosh, I must just love to live dangerously.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Wheesht. Let’s say you were talking to a friend one day, about this and that. Any friend at all. And they had something they needed to get off their chest.
CARABAS: What’s that?
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Lately, they’ve been feeling low. The sort of low mood that sticks around and doesn’t shift. In fact, never mind ‘lately’, this is something they’ve been feeling for a while. A few years, even, though it’s gotten worse in the last couple. Dark thoughts, listlessness, feeling irritable with people they know don’t deserve it, their ability to engage with things and get stuff done just throttled. They may look fine on top, but really, they’re treading water and prepared to sink.
CARABAS: Oh, jings. Poor devil.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Quite. But this is the first time they’ve spoken about it after keeping it close to their chest. Didn’t want to be a burden, and got into the habit of keeping quiet and withdrawing. No more. It’s you they’ve opened up to. What do you say to them?
CARABAS: Well … ah, from what I ken as a layman, with a half-remembered academic background in this and a few other friends in the same sort of boat, that sounds like depression to me, or something like it. I suppose I thank them for opening up and talking about it. It’s important to be open about these things, and they’ve taken the first important step.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Of course.
CARABAS: Then I, well, I tell them what I suspect. But I urge them to seek help, medical help from their general practitioner or whatever the equivalent first port of call is, to figure out what’s going on and how it could be treated. We know mental health’s just health and the stigma’s a useless killer — you’d want to get this seen to and professionals on your side, same as you would for a broken leg or whatever. Be frank, see a doctor, get yourself therapy or dried frog pills or anything else it takes to heal or manage it. No sense in being quiet and macho and a tower of strength if your foundations are wearing away.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Mm-hm.
CARABAS: Maybe I’d hang fire on the dried frog pill sort of comments unless I know their sense of humour, but that sort of thing. Don’t just languish in silence. Make your cares known to your loved ones and doctor, and get yourself what’s needed. That’s the sort of thing I’d try to say. Maybe gentler and over several more minutes. Giving them all the chances to blether as well.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Good, good.
CARABAS: Might even try to rein in my usual manner of drivelling frivolity. Sometimes I make an effort.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: This is all very interesting.
CARABAS: Why’s that?
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Well, you know, I bring this up because … haven’t you been suffering from a low mood? Over a few years now, and getting worse in the last couple?
CARABAS: Er.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Dark thoughts, listlessness, irritated at people, slowly disengaging from things you used to love? And not talking about it to anyone. Treading water, just about.
CARABAS: You sneaky prick.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: But with enough self-awareness to realise that this isn’t how your brain really ought to be. Something’s off, and you know it. Academic background, friends, etc? Though you’ve not yet really spoken about it.
CARABAS: That’s right.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: So with all that in mind — and how there’s no help to be had in twiddling your thumbs and being quiet and macho and hoping it goes away, as covered — is there some important first step you ought to be taking? Any handy people you might care to talk to?
(CARABAS appears deep in thought. It’s quite a sight.)
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: …What are you going to do?
CARABAS: I’m going to twiddle my thumbs and stay silent and hope it goes away by itself.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: Jesus christ.
So that’s how it was.
It’s been an ongoing thing since at least mid-2016, with the occasional episode prior to that. 2020, that simply marvellous year, kicked it up a notch. A persistent low mood, running alongside listless apathy and punctuated with irritation and darker thoughts. Combine that with a complete collapse in all things productive, and you’ve got what the doctor this last Thursday agreed was depression.
As I say, was. That’s the self-inflicted omertà wrestled past at last, and I’ve spoken to my family, a few friends, and a doctor who’s pointed me to a few resources and dispensed a box of tablets that promise to lark around with my serotonin. And I suppose I may as well speak about it here as well, since here’s borne witness to the most overt consequence of the whole thing.
My writing's always had its meagre moments because of this intermittent depression-fuelled throttling of output — nod knowingly if you were there for Wedding March’s prolonged leave of absence — and now it’s gone entirely off a cliff. The reason’s at last got a name. Horse-words can be useful as a diagnostic tool in that vein, I suppose. Not the act of writing them itself (which probably flags up its own marvellous range of mental oddities, but never mind), but what the crash of any will to write them represents. The absence of a drive you once exercised regularly; the outright inability to so much as look at a google doc even as the stories still burn bright in your skull; a growing aversion to any notification or comment that you get, for you’ve come to resent engagement with others —
(a writer on this site resenting attention and comments, I mean, good grief)
— it’s an unfun mix. And when you’ve previously been glad of your own writing, happy to have that outlet and pleased with the positive attention it gets you and, in all honesty, quietly proud of your own ability to do it reasonably well, losing it all’s extra salt in the open depression wound.
Suffice to say it’s not been a good first two-thirds of the year, in spite of a new puppy, and the years prior to that weren’t so great either. No matter the ineffectual coping mechanisms deployed.
(CARABAS: Okay, so I know intellectually that alcohol’s a depressant and it reinforces these sorts of dark moods. But if it’s good for short-term fun, then the odd — bordering on frequent — bit of over-indulgence can’t hurt while I wait for this to go away by itself. See, I’ve got this all worked out. I’m a genius.
CARABAS’ COMMON SENSE: (Looks up from half-empty wine glass.) Mm-hm, mh-hm. I’m listening. Keep talking.)
(This is being corrected too, I’m on the wagon for the foreseeable, fret not.)
Why talk about it now? Because the problem’s finally been acknowledged and the efforts to fix it are now underway, and that alone gives me a bit more hope for the future and a bit more drive than I remember having in a good long while. Jings, even composing the daft dialogue up top was more writing than I’ve done in almost two years. (And with that composition came that little thrill of creating something, of getting my words down in some form. I’d half-forgotten what it felt like. Let’s nurse this spark gently…)
I’m tired of this lead weight on the brain that makes existing more of a chore than it needs to be, and I’m annoyed that it’s casually stripped away a solid two years of writing and creativity and output, and I’m a tad exasperated with myself that I twiddled my thumbs and let it. Time to get rolling on a solution and past that cocktail of negative emotions, whether that takes lifestyle fixes or talking it out or throwing dried frog pills at it or all of the above.
My writing here’s played its part, as one of the proverbial canaries in the coal mine. Before all’s said and done, I’d like to try to resurrect this particular canary. I’ve stories to finish, and stories yet to tell. No guarantees, and I know full well that pinning my hopes on it and making it the touchstone for recovery would be foolish. But let’s see if I can’t yet fix this brain of mine or at least get a handle on it, and with any luck, write again. In whatever form, horsey or original or otherwise.
If you’ve been waiting patiently for words from myself all this while, I hope this helps account for the lack, and I hope to get it sorted out soon.
If you’re in the same boat, or were, then solidarity. I’m sure we can agree that brains were a mistake, and that Nature’s a pretty shoddy artisan if it can’t even wire the neurotransmitters right.
And if you’re struggling with a writer’s block, and you suspect there’s a root cause that you’re shy to mention aloud … well, I can only advise you head it off at the pass and talk to those best placed to help. CARABAS in the dialogue up top’s a pillock. Don’t be like him.
I'm glad to see you are on the road to recovery at least.
I'm not sure what advice to give that you've not already, and I'm sorry this has been causing you such trouble -- but congratulations on acknowledging it and taking constructive action. :)
Good luck!
Wonderful to hear that you're making an effort to get things back on track, so to speak. Good luck with getting the writing juices flowing again!
Wonderful to hear from you, and that you're getting the help you need. Here's looking forward to running a few thousand volts through that canary and getting it flying again. Or groaning about the problematic qualities of fire; I'm flexible.
Just pulled myself out of my own no-writing hole. Brains are a mistake, indeed.
Glad to hear you’re getting the help you need. It does, slowly, get better. Hopefully sooner than later for you. I look forward to hearing that canary sing again.
Brains are a wonderful thing, in theory. If Nature hadn't done them during her university time in a sleep-deprived state and hadn't been a tad overambitious, then brains would be--as youth once said and then furiously denied having ever done so--cool.
I'm glad you've taken these steps, and am truly happy you've gotten help. I will cross various appendages for good luck and thank you for having been so open.
Godspeed, and let's hope you'll find your mojo again. A canary, after all, is a warning signal, and it means you got out in time.
Oh hun, I'm glad you're finally getting some help.
Brains are indeed peculiar things, so tricky to get things juuust right. And so easy to just keep putting it off and thinking it'll be different tomorrow.
Here's hoping things improve for you!
It’s good to hear from you again, and even better that things are looking up for you!
5683608
Glad to be walking it! Beats the alternative roads.
5683609
Eventually, once in a blue moon, common sense puts the boot in hard enough that the rest reluctantly lumbers into action. Hopefully it should prove to be nice and constructive.
5683615
Thank you! It'll be nice to get back in the saddle if this all helps my brain get in gear. (Oh dear, I'm muddling my metaphors. This is why it needs to get back in gear.)
5683616
Look, sometimes, if you need to solve issues of the psyche, you just need to conduct some appallingly mad science on a deceased songbird. I don't make the rules, nor keep a firm grip on my analogies.
5683624
Glad to hear you pulled yourself out of your own wordless while, and that it gets better in time. Whatever the timeframe might be for getting this fixed, I'd also prefer 'soon'.
5683632
pbs.twimg.com/media/EcldVbBU0AAzos9.jpg
(Though my understanding's monkeys do experience stress and anxiety just as we do. Ruins the image, but at least I suffer in solidarity with all the simians out there.)
Much obliged for the crossed appendages, Kettle. Now it's been acknowledged, the canary shan't go to waste.
5683635
Glad to be getting the help at last, ferret. Habits are a dreadful thing to fall into, especially when they keep you stagnating with fussy neurotransmitters for company. Thank goodness I've broken this one.
5683642
It's a bit of a joy to be making some noise again at last. Here's hoping things improve!
I want to show my sympathy and shared experiences but damned if it isn't just too damn hard to talk about things with other people and damned if my own stupid anxiety hatebrain isn't super good at shutting down my attempts to do so. So yeah it's hard.
But I'm bearing witness and I wish you all the best.
well hey, good to see you! :D
🔥😡🔥 Man, this blog post was a cold splash mirror. I was literally on the verge of feeling like this today, but now... goddamn now...
You know what? I wouldn't blame the brain. A brain's only as good as the universe it's in.
The universe takes potshots at life, because it has all the weapons at its command: disease, accidents, natural disasters, other minds, even your own thoughts. A totalitarian of the strangest order. Depression is one of its most subtle and venomous, because it arrives unseen and attacks the soul from the inside-out. Some people never even notice the enemy within. And that royally pisses me off.
Carabas, I risk talking through my hat, because I've never been formally diagnosed with depression (though not for lack of suspicion). That said, even at the level of "feeling miserable more often than I'd like to", it's wretched. Every stretch of dead time ends up feeling like an avoidable waste. If only I hadn't felt listless that moment, or that day, or that week/month/year, or more, I could have done something productive, worthwhile, enjoyable, or nice. Or if only it hadn't made it hard to care about that same enjoyable something at the worst opportunity.
It's the ultimate cheat: cheating people out of time, reason, happiness, and sometimes life. Well, I say: How dare the universe do that to people? Fuck the universe! This. Means. War.
In a way, it's ironic you mention brain malfunctions, because the one mistake the universe made was to give us brains in the first place. Brains enough to see through its bullshit and fight back. Powerful yet hopelessly chaotic, the universe created its own opponent. We can get smart enough to spot what it's doing, keen enough to look for countermeasures, strong enough to tell it "no", and even resourceful enough to win more and more battles in the ceaseless war. Disease, accidents, natural disasters, other minds, even your own thoughts: we're figuring out if and how we can best each and every one.
And top of the list of the brain's powers is the ability to see a better alternative than what we get. In other words: we're smart enough to realize the universe, for all its power and complexity and sheer omnipresence, is just plain dumb. A small lump of electrochemical matter that lasts only a few decades at best can still have a better clue than a giga-lightyear-sized cosmos, which has had for-goddamn-ever to get it right.
There's no shame in being wounded, Carabas. We're all in the line of fire: some of us just get more random bullets than others, but it'll torment and kill everyone sooner or later. We can't win the war, but by God, we can win more battles and win more ground and look so good doing it too.
And I hope we get a good chance, somewhere in there - starting with what it did to you and working up and further up - to look the universe in the eye and call it what it is: a complete and utter arse. And then we can give it a bloody good kick.
I hope you get your kicks soon enough, man. The "mistaken", "shoddy", "miswired" "pillock" of a brain is your soul. It's damn well worth fighting for.
My eyes lit up on seeing you in my feed.
Sorry to hear that you've had to spend time in the all-too-familiar depression-pits, but excellent news to hear you're actively getting it looked at.
I look forward to reading more stories about outrageously Scottish corvids, once you're feeling up to it. Blogposts are nice, too.
As someone who suspects that one's procrastinatory habits might not be all-natural, I'm glad you've got the stones to ask for help even if it took a lot of waffling. I could use a metaphorical kick in the rump when I get down like that. Anyways glad to see you're back, and I wish you all the best both in terms of your health and happiness as well as your writing.
5683661
Goodness knows talking's terribly tricky at times when the grey matter's in a mood.
Consider the witness borne and the good wishes conveyed.
5683667
Good to see you as well! The site seemed like it was overdue a report on brain sprains to relieve the tedium.
5683671
I wasn't expecting to kindle a good fire like this and get folk ready to storm the gates of Providence, but heck, I'm down for it, Numbers. We'll make a great day out of it and make toast over the flames. (Bring a good loaf; mine's experiencing technical difficulties.)
It really is an attack from the inside-out, as you say - no external stressor here, just a good old-fashioned bungling by whatever neurotransmitters were meant to be on the ball here. And it's such an aggravating thief of time and creative output as well. One day, when my feelings are flaring a little more brighter and higher, I may well look back on these years and deploy stronger verbiage than 'aggravating'. I could have been writing all that time.
At least that problem-solving potential's there, and we're getting more and more of a clue of the behaviours and medicines to alleviate or cure it. If what Nature gave us isn't up to snuff, we've got the means to get it there. Hopefully those means kick in for myself ... and for all a formal diagnosis may be lacking, I hope those listless, miserable periods steer clear of you. If they don't, give them a bit of hell.
5683672
Depression pits are a terrible scunner, this I can attest to, but at least there's now the prospect of steps out of this one. Hope to brighten your day with more posts sometime soon, and maybe even corvids when the stars (and neurons) align.
5683677
Part of the trick's self-awareness, at least to be able to recognise the problem. The rest of the trick's kicking yourself into doing something about it. Glad I've been able to do that at last, and if the need ever arises for yourself, may you kick firm and true.
Yeah, brains. What was nature thinking?
Good to hear from you, and it's good to know that you're taking steps toward a healthier life! Don't expect miracles, but every inch away from the morass is a small victory. Best of luck.
Brains are unfortunately like that
Write for yourself and not for us. On the bright side though we're here to listen and to help.
5683690
Thank you! A miracle'd be nice, but if this gets me at least a wee bit more functioning and the ability to scrieve words in any capacity, I'd be pleased. So long as the morass stops being all-encompassing.
5683720
The main thing I gleaned from my adventures in brain academia is that they're mysterious and contrarian entities, with the odd tendency to explode. Glad to be taking steps to fix this one at least, and for the support that's been shown.
I'm glad you're finally getting help! You're absolutely worth it.
Depression is not a laughing matter, but I've got a rather obsessive/compulsive mindset and I know better than to start an addictive behavior like drinking or smoking because I'd *never* stop, so my coping mechanism for occasional depression fits is rather odd. I make a list of the three or four things I've been delaying forever (the wife has a list, I just add to it) and start hammering my way through them so I can have time to be depressed later. And of course sometimes writing horribly dark sections in stories helps. (Ponies are my therapy. I'd hate to think of what I'd be like without thaumically active colorful equines.)
5683742
Thank you! Turns out all those old allusions to scumbag brains were all-too-true, but at least there's now a effort underway to de-scumbag it.
5683758
I've heard that sort of activity mentioned before as a wee hack for depressive episodes - getting something or several things done's could help you feel (and be, for that matter) more productive. And if nothing else, a mended drawer or a clean bathroom's something of its own reward. I might just shamelessly borrow your approach and see if it works.
Did have a tilt at a Dark sort of story last year to try and channel some of the bad thoughts. Alas, it joined the growing ranks of half-finished google docs. But if things pick up, maybe it could be picked up. It's been a while since I gave Luna her due.
5683821
Keep the funny parts, tho! Funny scumbag brains are great
Depression is a bastard and it lies to you all the time.
Good vibes and best of luck going forward!0
5683861
Curb scumminess, promote funny. A fair course of action.
(It probably speaks to the extent of some existing strain of scumbag that I started envisioning some My Fair Lady scenario for this, but with brains instead of flower-girls.)
5683870
A bastard and a deceiver. The more one comes to know about depression, the more one suspects it's really not all that pleasant at all.
Good vibes received, and much obliged.
5683891
Wife has been through something along these lines. I won't go into details (because. y'know, details), but from the outside it was like watching a flower open. Except the flower was a brain. Wait, this is a bad metaphor...
But anyway, brains. It's good to hear you're getting on, and good luck with the wagon-riding.
5683924
Thanks! Wagon-riding's become that much likely to stick since I remembered non-alcoholic beers were a thing. Those aisles I used to glance serenely past in drinks sections have now become of great interest, such are the strange times in which we live. Can vaguely recommend Brewdog's Nanny State.
My best wishes to Mrs Archonix, and I hope her brain/flower/subject-of-analogy's currently in fine fettle.
Glad I still check blogs.
The first things that go with depression are your ability to self-diagnose it, and your ability to deal with it. It's a bit insidious. All sorts of things that seem silly when you get the good medication and it actually works:
"Actually it's my fault for feeling like this, and if I ask for help I'll just get told that it's not medical, just a personality flaw"
"Even if there is something wrong with me I'm sure it's not fixable and I don't have the energy to try if it's just going to fail anyway"
"Actually if it is fixable, then I should be able to fix it on my own rather than making it someone else's problem"
"Actually I should be able to just handle this and make it through, it's not that bad. And if I can't, then I deserve to feel low."
"Feeling low is a normal response to sucking and I have somehow tricked the people around me into thinking I don't"
It's super easy to get caught up in hindsight of how obvious things feel now, and see the last two years as wasted time you'll never get back. But it's a practice thing. You'll keep the skillset for learning to figure this out and address it next time. And medication will make it way easier to act on.
Oh yeah, and medication can become less effective over time, needing a switchup/higher dose. One of the really funny ways you can tell it's happening is when you suddenly find it hard to talk about it seeming like a thing you might need to do, or ask for advice about it. But suddenly you'll have all sorts of good reasons why that should be hard, and none of them will be 'because my depression is coming back'.
5683956
Whatever doesn't kill you will hopefully at least improve your skillset. Much obliged, Numbers, this is helpful stuff. I've been advised to seek a follow-up appointment in a few weeks to help track how the current dried frog pills are doing and whether adjustment'll be needed. If all's serene, but the need arises for more pills later down the line, it'll be less difficult to get the ball rolling.
And god, all those insidious reasons for putting off seeking help. I regret to say they're entirely accurate.
Thanks for sharing this with us Carabas, it's good to hear from you. We're all rooting for you on your road to recovery.
5684018
It's been a heartening response, and it's good to be finally be on the road.
Thank you.
*nods vaguely*
My memory's terrible, but I think I was around during that time.
But yeah, brain-stuff sucks. Kudos on actually taking action towards rectifying things.
5685706
The Dark Times, as scholars of future ages shall deem it. Highly suspect scholars, but scholars nonetheless.
5685726
I tend to just assume everybody's lives are a complete mess and we're all just making our way through inertia, but I do appreciate the explanation.
I don't have writer's block as much as I have, well, damn-near-everything block. This includes going to bed at an appropriate hour, so I'm going to (hopefully) make an attempt to surrender with whatever grace I have remaining and go to bed.
lh5.googleusercontent.com/P3mc6J7L_mKJaK4D23r2vqdL9JTvvfcgn9bZnMrPwRTZHHX4AwSsM_qkwj49rLfPYtgK2-q57tVSynvnInmyHQnyCWVugNO_wdzZlXUgiLmfmmAXpuf670p2QxaEYWNKoWRNLVDYjHwcoo9E2EevPgVqQLxvru6JHiHxqYsXMW5jY-RqSfy7D536Aw
It was me, Carry. I broke into your house and performed brain surgery on you while you were sleeping to see what would happen!
Really though, glad you're feeling better.
5686984
"No! My serotonin, you bugger!" I distinctly recall yowling at a indistinct form vanishing into the night with a bag marked 'swag'. "I need that for brain things!" Should have known you were the indistinct form.
Thank you!
Just read your blog. You are one of my very favorite authors here and I hate to hear what you've been going through. I hope you're still doing better, Carabas.
5742028
No real progress to speak of yet, I'm afraid to say - but finding the right fix is a process. I'll be patient, and keep trying. Much obliged for the kind words and for reaching out.
5742170
You are most welcome, Carabas. Continued positive thoughts and prayers your way for balancing your brain chemistry. Fight on!
Eye of the Tiger