Here we are once again, dear reader. It is I, Ele Nichols, ready to expose my soul to you. Six months have lapsed since my last post, which did not go unnoticed. If you leave up a Halloween blog from the previous year, it’s definitely a sign that no one’s home. I have to say, that last statement is true on many accounts.
Let me start off by saying that depression can go fuck itself. Though it’s been a lot longer than six months since my depression started, these last few months were truly a battle for sanity and any scrap of happiness. I haven’t gone through something like this since 2006, when I was living behind a couch in a living room, sharing the space with eight other people and a baby. Yet I always held onto hope that things would get better back then, which they did, but this current bout had me wondering if that was really true or not.
To make matters worse, I started finding myself gaining back weight that I worked so hard to shed, plus my brain completely shut down and prevented me from being creative A.K.A. working A.K.A. making money. Wait though, it didn’t stop there! My social anxiety disorder was resurrected, which started waves of panic attacks that debilitated me. So as you can see, depression was ready to end me. I’m very blessed though to have a couple wonderful people in my life to guide me through. To them, I can never express how grateful I am.
It was my best fiend who made me see the light and finally seek some help. In the past, I always dealt with my depression by myself. I found ways to survive, but not much more than that. For whatever reason, I never pursued professional help or medication, which now seems incredibly ignorant. I have a disease of the mind, which requires proper treatment. While I’m not necessarily an advocate for over medicating, to not be willing to explore and consider all options is unwise. So after pursuing alternatives, I spoke with my Doctor and began a course of treatment.
Last month, I started taking medication daily to try to bring back my mind into balance. I don’t recall feeling much difference for the first week, but by the following week I just felt happy and encouraged. The distortion that I had been seeing my life through seemed to clear away. There was a day where I could feel my brain running on all cylinders again, which I can’t explain the elation that made me feel.
When you’re battling depression, at some point you can forget who you were because the disease overwrites your personality and identity. If you know me and have read my past posts, you know loosing that is devastating for me. The day I was able to look in the mirror and see myself again was the most relieving experience I’ve ever had in my life. With my compass pointing north again, I’ve been busy this past month making up for lost time.
I’ve been especially hard on myself for what I missed out or failed to accomplish. Since I turned thirty, over two years ago now, I’ve been hearing the ticks of every passing moment, feeling the intense pressure to make something of my life. With all the issues I’ve had, those ticks haunted me. Taking a page from Captain James Hook’s playbook, I smashed the living fuck out of that god damn, infernal coo coo clock in my mind. Time may be running out for us all, but you can’t live your life mourning what’s gone. This may be cliche, but life isn’t about destinations, rather the journeys there.
The photos I took to accompany this post were about reclaiming my identity. I brought the eighties back in a big, bad way. You’re welcome. This nylon, velvet and sequins I pulled on was like a fresh baptism of my soul. Biblical references of Lazarus being risen from the dead came to mind. I guess that makes me a zombie, but don’t worry, I only bite enough to break the skin.
So like mousey Selina Kyle transforming into Catwoman (Batman Returns Style), I too, Miss Kitty, feel so much…yummier.