Tymothi

It's hot and humid here, but at least there's a lot of sunlight. I have unwavering respect for people with depression in the UK and similar places. I could never do it. You guys are tanks. ❤️

Asthmatic in the soul.

Hey, I'll take it. Cheers, all. ❤️

Good news for one person is good news for every person.

We built it together, she and I. She needed help, and I traveled up and settled in with her and devoted my self to the care of her and her children. There we made a home, and it was wondrous. It's a cozy little place, comfortably hidden deep within the aching pines and stoic oaks of a sacred forest. In the dusklight of a long summer day there is birdsong and the fog of swallows in frenzied flight, while crisp autumn mornings glow with dewy amber and a sense of the miraculous. The perfect rhythm of nearby water over ancient boulders silhouettes our presence here, as if our very union produces the magick that gives rise to life all around us. A garden of vegetables and herbs is annually bountiful with happy proof. Each day was an exercise in joy. We would arise, caffeinate, and proceed into the world one minute at a time, sharing something simple but profound in love to each other before spreading off in separate directions. The children watched with oblivious serenity for years, whining over imperfections and temporary obstacles to their endless pleasures. At the antics of the young ones we would laugh, their complaints the very evidence that our efforts were grander than great. Eventually the children grew, and of the two the young one began to lend a hand, realizing her special world was only special because someone else labored endlessly to make it so. Her mind's maturation was touched by the beauty and compassion of this place. And as she developed a self and began to see the heartbeat of our home, the pines stretched farther upwards and the swallows fed generations and the inspiration of the creek continued to whisper lullabies each and every night. The other child, however, the one needing unique care, began to grow beyond his control - and beyond ours. His behavior ransacked the cottage, and his lyricless laughter pierced the late night tranquility and his physical strength suddenly exceeded that of his caretakers. Soon our special oasis was under threat. Following lengthy and painful battles in the nearby village, just as the doorstep of horror was coming into view, a glorious beam of luck shone down upon us: an offer was made to transport the unique child to a place where he could be properly cared for, and the health and safety of his family would be spared. We wiped our brows, saved from imminent tragedy. Finally, the sweet sacred space felt miraculous again. And then something else happened. She changed. She changed and left, promising to meet me here again someday. I'm alone in the cottage now. The roof lurches inward, sick. Insects and overgrowth consume all. The garden is a chocking mass of weeds and brambles. Branches lie rotting against broken windows. The swallows have long since fled. Summer sunsets are hidden behind cold clouds, and in the mornings the grass is crunchy with frost. She promised to meet me here someday. I can still hear the brook. It is made of madness and tears.

BlackAdder. My neighbors hear wild gratuitous cackling at midnight, erupting from a dark house where there lives only one person, a person they've seen washing his clothes in a bucket on the driveway.

I used to listen to almost constant blackened death metal and crossover thrash and goregrind and slam, but I also had almost constant nightmares. Someone inventively suggested that those two things might be related, and I took it to heart. I deleted that stuff from my computer (66.66 GB worth, I wish I was kidding), and now I listen to Handel Mozart Thomas Tallis WIlliam Byrd And now I only have nightmares once every three nights! 😄

What a wonderful, thoughtful gift! Don't let it be a source of angst; I have suggestions. Playing a stringed instrument is difficult the first time. It's quite possible she respects and appreciates the gift, but she may be intimidated by the fact that you are skilled and practiced. That's a hard thing to measure up to, knowing that you're going to have to "teach" her. That idea makes some people quietly uncomfortable.... It also hurts. Nobody likes pain, and practicing guitar involves some level of physical pain. She might not be ready to face that. Finally, and this relates to my wife when I did something similar for her, she may just want for the time to be right when it feels like playing it is something that she's inspired to do on her own. Music is a special thing for you, and that's wonderful, but for it to be a special thing for her, she will need to come to it on her own terms. All it takes is one song, but that song has to be one she feels inspired to want to play. Does that make sense? The gift is in providing her with a beautiful avenue by which to explore something that means so much to you - and accepting that it might not mean as much to her. That's not something I would destroy. 🙂

So it's like a constant OCD-fueled purge of clutter? Maybe that's it - and maybe that's a good thing. Like, if you keep your engine lines clear they'll never jam or clog or misfire or whatever. That doesn't sound so bad, so I guess it's only bad if the behavior is preventing you from doing something you would otherwise enjoy. But since you wouldn't know the amount of good it's doing - since you never stop doing it - how can you really see whether or not it's making a difference? Know what I mean? It's all you've ever known.... O_O

It is a South Park episode. Or an SNL skit, or a Monty Python gag, or a Spinal Tap joke. Except it's not funny. What gets me is that there was all this other stuff happening right before the apocalypse that all seemed so very important. Like, didn't the US **** some major Iranian general and we were all about to start thinking McCarthyist global nuclear holocaust? What happened to all that? What happened to the Hong Kong riots, or the crimes against refugees in Myanmar? Nobody's talking about that now, but right before the pandemic everybody had an opinion. What's the matter, they don't care anymore? Just because they can't find toilet paper? Most people's minds can't keep up with any more than one person: themselves.

Some people compulsively collect things to heal pain - bingeing, hoarding, etc. Is there an opposite? A fear of collecting things? Like an anorexia of ownership? My mother abandoned me when I was a teenager, so that fed 20+ years of being afraid to trust anyone or invest in anyone. Why invite someone into my life if I'm going to lose them? It became a somewhat helpful neurosis when I left home in 2006 with nothing but a suitcase, as I channeled energy into making it a useful tool for staying mobile - why invite things into my life if they're going to hold me in place? The things you own end up owning you, etc. It made moving easy and living a lot less painful. But recently, after I started living in a new home (I can't stay "move in" because it's a suitcase and a backpack) someone generously tried to give me a refrigerator and I panicked - not because I was going to have to pay him back but because of a terror that it's too big to move by myself if things go bad. As I yelled in the face of selfless generosity, "What if I get used to it?!" I realized I may have taken that monastic mentality a little too far. But did I? I really won't be able to move it by myself, and in the meantime I've hesitantly started to put small things in there, literally one by one. I do live in hurricane territory where we lose power frequently, so I'm very nervous. Is there a term for such a thing, or is it just an outgrowth of that fear of rejection?

(untitled) I took a bath I took a red bath I took a red bath with me When I went to her home. She made a life She made a little life She made a little life for herself When she drove from my home. He tried to help He tried to help us He tried to help us be slaves When he paid for her home. They watched the scene They watched the circus scene They watched the circus scene for years When they passed our home. We constructed a monument We constructed a monument stone We constructed a monument stone of one When we kissed that home (Goodbye)

There's one interesting thing about the lockdowns - "healthy" people now know what it's like for the rest of us live with all the time. To not be able to connect with the people we care about.... to be trapped and isolated in a shell of our own creation.... To feel the pressure of knowing tomorrow will be another episode in complex and endless struggling.... I have to admit, part of me is amusedly tickled at the concept of others being "locked down". Not in a vengeful way, mind you (like, ha ha! Suckers! You can't enjoy your life either now! Ha ha!), just in the way that now they know what I've known all along - that it's disgusting to be around people. That getting too close to someone is liable to invite monstrous suffering and empty your soul of whatever will to live you once had. Maybe they will start washing their hands now, or standing more than six inches from me at the Barnes & Noble register. Maybe? Dare I hope? Another part of me believes it won't make any difference. Ambitious people and those who are able to cruise through with futures and families and attractive functional bodies have simply found other ways to disorient themselves and keep afloat their lively lives, and as soon as they have the chance, they will be doing everything they were doing before. Will people change for the long-term, or will it just take a little longer for the haves to neglect the have-nots?

That's horrible. That's a deluge of sad horribleness. 😞

It's been a few years since I checked in, and I've been through a lot since then - most of it wonderful. In fact, I'm not even depressed again yet. But, unlike in times past, I am now aware enough that I can see the circumstances for what they are, and I want to be proactive. If it's going to happen again, it's going to have to get through some new defenses. Still, it is depression, after all. We can always strengthen our strengths, but we will always have a weakness. The short story is that after many years of fighting with depression and beyond, I met someone who loved me, and shortly thereafter I married her, helping her raise her two children (one of whom is CP and autistic). Ten years later her CP son was accepted into a group home and the wife told me she didn't want me around anymore and now I'm back in my rural lonely hometown at the age of 41 and each but one of my real life friends refuses to talk to me, because they were all her friends first. I have a home this time, which is nice, but because I arrived right before COVID, all my job applications fell on deaf ears and so I'm getting hungry for employment. And pretty damned lonely. It's hard not being loved - or rather, it's hard having love taken away. I know what I did wrong, how I sacrificed too much of myself out of desperation to that very end, and how useless it is to hold anger against any one person besides myself. And also how useless it is to hold anger against myself, for that matter - I'm only human, after all. But the hard part is facing the future. It took me 30 years, four states, and varying degrees of homelessness and vagrancy to meet someone willing to hold me and say they enjoy my company. Who wouldn't, on finding someone like that, give that person their all? I won't start that process again. Just thinking about it makes me sweat. (Besides, Craigslist has since removed their personal ad section. HA!) I have a huge heart. And nowhere to put it. Worse, no one seems to want it. It makes me wonder what is so wrong with me that I can't see. What's wrong with me? This heart doesn't do any good sitting here by itself. I've been literally around the planet and I'm really really not looking forward to carrying it alone again. I'm sorry for only showing up when looking for support. I did try to come back once and offer support while I was in a good place, but I found that I was too weak to do any real good for very long. It was triggering. That weakness thing.... Well, either way, thanks for still being here. I'm sure I'll get used to the upgrades. Tym