So, life’s been weird this past month. Sort of a culmination of things that’ve been brewing over the horizon and finally flooding over the dam.
Content Note: I will be lightly touching on some things related to my depression, including but not limited to suicidal ideation. You’ve been warned.
So, the part you’re probably most interested in: Twitter. I’ve had, at the very least, an unhealthy relationship with the service. I spend all day idly refreshing everything, and even on days I have a better grip on that, I use it as a venting ground. This wouldn’t be as big a deal if it was venting about trivial things, but I’ve got severe mental illness and things get pretty heavy at times.
Today had the final straw in the coffin, in which I overreacted to a friendly, private callout for not putting a content warning on a tweet. If I’m like this, it means there’s deeper issues at hand and I should really not be getting lost in a loop of checking and venting on social media.
I’ve been contemplating it all day, and have come to the conclusion that I don’t really want to leave for good, as I have several friends there I want to keep in touch with. That and there’s all the cool artists I follow. So things are going to drastically change. I unfollowed a bunch of people I either lost touch with or don’t want on my feed anymore, for various reasons including protecting my sanity. I’m also going to not tweet on there unless it’s art or to respond to someone else’s tweet (like to compliment them or discuss things if we’re friends).
In summation, I’m not leaving. I’m just going to set healthier boundaries and use the service as though I’m a professional and not just some confused asshole. I need to witness the world through a broader lens than just the internet.
So, life. I’ve had brutal allergies ever since spring started a few months ago. I’ve not made good use of the warmer weather at all, because of this. So I’ve been cooped up and feeding my depression instead of, I dunno, not doing that. Most recently I’ve
been mostly just dwelling on how miserable I am, even so far as to get overwhelmed by suicidal ideation and an obsession with death. This is wildly unhealthy and I need to change it.
It’s been a weird year for art, too. I’ve done some cool shit and made great progress, but I still have some weird mental hangup on it. I think I need to go out and draw, because being away from my room means new sensations and new things to pay attention to and keep me present.
I’ve been challenging myself in a good many ways, but I could be a bit smarter about it. Gotta stop dwelling in my dwelling, so to speak. Get out and make some new friends, talk about shit that isn’t my illness, read some fucking books. Go for a walk and take photos of cute dogs. Just because I’m disabled and miserable doesn’t mean I have to be the second part of that all the time.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this so I’ll just end it by saying I’m now making a point to not sit at my desk all day. I can get better. I will get better.
Thank you for reading.