Comfortably numb...

It's purely coincidence that Comfortably Numb was on the radio as I drove 4 times today. It did give me a good laugh nonetheless. Why? Why would such a mellow, and depressing song cause me to laugh? I was meeting with my doctor to discuss an antidepressant prescription this morning. It's something I've contemplated for several decades at this point. I always found some reason to put it off or convince myself it wasn't necessary, or that it wasn't a good course of action. I have on numerous occasions convinced myself that I would somehow alter myself to the point that I was a fundamentally different person. It never occurred to me that medication could "allow me to be me"... just without or with fewer of the anxiety and depression symptoms.

Is this internal pressure, this internal critic that won't shut up, part and parcel of who I am? The fact that I'm here right now, jotting down these thoughts points to the notion that there is something that I like about myself. That life is worth living... as long as there are lots and lots of naps to help me get through the days. Finally, I decided to take the plunge and have the discussion with a medical professional. I've been seeing a therapist for a little over a year and a half. Since a couple months after my mom died. Her passing threw my depression into overdrive. I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't want to go to my favorite bar where my favorite people hang out. Other than with Kasia, I really didn't want to socialize. Solo Bar is like a second home to me. I met Kasia there. I deepened friendships with Val, Mario, Ashley, Michael, Elizabeth, Gino, and many more there. I met amazing new people there like Brian and Lyda, Tom and Madeline, Carter, Aaron, Derek, Jose, Chelsea, Kelly, and a list of people too long to get into here. But I couldn't bring myself to visit for a while. Why? Because there was too much love in that fucking place! It's crawling with people I consider friends. There's a great many that I know only because of the bar and only socialize with in the bar. Great people. Loving people. Supportive people. Mom's death hit me like a ton of bricks. No, not a ton of bricks. More like a ton of feathers. A ton of bricks would crush you instantly. Destroy you. A ton of feathers would smother you slowly. Deprive you of oxygen with its slow, oppressive, spread out weight.

I was caught under the combined mass of 2000 pounds of feathers. Struggling to breathe. Every struggle to escape just shuffled the mass around making it seemingly impossible to escape. I wanted to talk to people. I wanted to get this weight off my chest. Take some of the burden off of Kasia who was taking it on essentially by herself. It was difficult for me to do this at Solo. There was always an individual or group of folks who would show up and show their support and love. Many of them friends, but not close enough friends that I felt comfortable talking with them about something so deeply personal. I appreciated their love and support, but it was hard for me to accept because of my anxiety and depression. It was too much. I didn't feel worthy of it. Who the fuck am I beyond a film geek who loves beer, and heavy metal? A walking, talking Seattle stereotype. I rationalized it away that my close friends, those I had years of close connection with, would be able to see through my facade. I could have more meaningful conversation with on the topic with these particular people. Not that the bar friends wouldn't be able to offer sincere and loving conversation, I just wasn't in a place to deepen my relationship with these incredible people on the back of my mother's death. So, my normal social therapy establishment had become problematic for me. I wanted to have the deep conversations with my closest friends. I wanted that clarity that comes with pushing through personal barriers, but it was difficult when there were so many people that are so kind, caring, and loving constantly expressing their condolences, and smothering me with the best of intentions, and love. How fucked up is that?! I avoided my closest friends because I couldn't deal with the love and support of a large group of friends I don't have as deep a personal history with! Counseling helped with this. Massively. I've struggled with social anxiety for a long time. I've never liked the spotlight. In a time like this, the spotlight is kinda always on you. And it allows people who truly care to see you. To approach you and offer their support and love. The anxiety was palpable for me. I wanted the social interaction, but I didn't want the attention focused on me. My therapist really helped me with this. He taught me really simple tricks and tools to deal with the moments where I felt overwhelmed. "I need to pee." "I'm going for a smoke." "Oh! I haven't seen SoAndSo in ages! I need to go talk to them! Please excuse me." Holy shit! Really? It can be that simple?! People aren't offended by these little statements and requests? I'm not obligated to stay in a conversation that is making me uncomfortable no matter how justified, or irrational? I can deflect for the sake of bettering my emotional state? I felt like an idiot for not realizing this decades ago! But now I was an idiot who was equipped with some tools to help me navigate and overcome a social situation that had been severely problematic for me, and weighed on my relationship with Kasia. She didn't want to be, nor did she deserve to be my emotional surrogate in our social circle. I needed to rectify this for her sake. Working with my therapist, I was slowly able to crawl out of my hidey hole, and begin to interact with my world again. It felt good. It relieved a lot of internal pressure. I've been seeing my therapist for almost 2 years now. It's been extremely helpful in terms of dealing with the anxiety, but the depression persists. I NEED to nap for an hour or two almost every day even if I got a decent night's sleep. I've been able to get into writing a lot more seriously even if the depression gets the better of me and sidelines it for brief stretches. I've learned some tools to lessen the effects, but it still persists. The need to nap. The constant looking forward to when I can be asleep has become a huge impediment to my personal and professional aspirations. I find ways to avoid doing things I thoroughly enjoy. I didn't put as much time or effort into the garden these last two summers. I find ways to avoid building and growing my stock footage business. I find ways to avoid unloading the dishwasher. I'm happy to fill it up and get it going, but I find ways to dissuade myself from doing something as simple as unloading it. I procrastinate in favor of naps which makes client deadlines a terrifying experience. To further add to this, I love my 48 Hour Film Project. I love running it. I love what it provides and accomplishes for aspiring and established filmmakers. But my anxiety and depression keeps me from putting my all into it. I want to put my all into it. I want it to be bigger, more badass, and way more useful and enriching for the participants. My most recent 48 Horror event was huge in terms of participation. Decent in terms of audience attendance, but the filmmaking event itself was massive. I should be proud of this. I should take an enormous amount of joy from it. I don't. I do enjoy it. Love it actually, but my depression and anxiety get in the way of me enjoying the process of it as well as the results. It's not the event it could or should be. To complicate matters, until just now, mid-November 2019, I've had very little time off from thinking about or acting on matters related to the 48. I thought about the medication talk with my doctor throughout the entirety of the 48 season this year. Knowing that there are physical and behavioral side effects to a medication gave me pause. I just couldn't afford a radical change in either behavior or health during this time. It wasn't that I was putting this discussion or decision off because of the normal procrastination symptom of my depression. I was putting it off because I wanted to make sure that I was giving the events 100% of what emotional energy I had available. A couple weeks ago, with the end of the 48 season in sight, and no plans for holiday travel on the books, I realized now was the time to pull the trigger on this. I made the appointment with my doctor. I chatted with my therapist about it. I went to the appointment this morning. Tomorrow, I begin my medical treatment for depression with my first 25mg dose of Zoloft. I know I won't see any concrete effects for 4-6 weeks other than some of the possible side effects, but dammit... I took the leap! I feel pretty good about that.