Sup...

 Crazy. This shit is still here. I should probably use it more. 

See ya again in 5 years. 

Depression is a piece of shit - Living on the periphery of a mental illness

"Depression is a piece of shit". I read that somewhere on the Internet awhile ago, a meme or a comment on something and it made me chuckle. That, of course, was before depression reared its bastard head in my life. I'm not depressed, but someone very close to me is. I've seen this person fall from a social star, from a boisterous and engaging human being to a shattered shell. Interactions are at an all time low. Creativity is gone save the rare spurts that come unpredictably. The worst part is that this dear compatriot of mine won't even take care of themselves. Eating, bathing, working, the very basics. I've tried to be supportive and encouraging. I know that this person has an illness. I could not possibly be upset or blame someone for having the flu any more than I could blame my friend for being depressed. And yet, at times it is all too easy to forget this sentiment. There are days when they smile. There are wonderful and rich social interactions that remind me, painfully so at times, what the world is losing to this terrible depression. It is incredibly easy for those of us who do not suffer depression to judge and misunderstand the difficulty its sufferers endure. How is it for you to get and walk out the front door. Maybe you looked in the fridge to discover you need milk, it's a simple fix, right? Grab your keys and go! It's not that way for my friend though. Just the thought of leaving the house can lead to anxiety and panic attacks. I have only witnessed a handful of these, but I know they happen more than I'm told. I can't fathom that. I have tried. I am trying. To me, and likely to you if you've not ever been depressed it seems so simple.

And that is why I'm writing this. As I said, I'm not depressed. I'm very sad and pained to watch someone I care so deeply about hurting, but I'm on the sidelines. I'm writing this, more than anything, to voice my feelings and observations as an outsider to a disease. I'm writing this as a way to express thoughts that I don't think would help if I were to talk with my friend about their depression. You see, though this person will always be special to me and I will always love them, lately they have become ugly. Of course, I don't mean that in the physical sense, I simply mean that my dealings and interactions with them are ugly. My support for them goes unappreciated and often spurned. I'm not trying to help so that I get a pat on the back, but when my help is criticized or inexplicably turned around into an attack on me... well there are only so many times that can be overlooked. I am aware of a growing bitterness within me. I like to think that I'm a rational person, capable of objective thinking and putting ever at the forefront of my mind, that I am dealing with an illness. I know that. Still, sometimes, on the long days when I'm worn out, that objectivity doesn't sink in. It's caused arguments between my friend and I. Though I hate to say it and typing it in black and white makes it even worse, there is a rift between us. Yes, depression is a piece of shit.

I'm sure there are many of you out there that have had to deal with this before. This isn't meant to be a self-help piece or how to guide. I can't tell those of you who have a depressed spouse, parent, sibling or just a best friend how to get through it. I'm not through it. I'm struggling along just like a lot of you. If you're reading this and you know how to help or cope, by all means share! This is meant though, for anyone else in this difficult place on the periphery of depression, to say you're not alone.

NaNoWriMo Update - 11/03/2016

Well, I'm at 7,853 words now. I got a staggering 2,316 today while I only needed 1,667 AND, I killed my first character!!! No details, sorry.

I wonder if I should George R. R. Martin this thing...

Hey blog? How ya been?

Well, it's obviously been a LOOOOOONG time since I've written anything here! I'll have to go through all my old posts to see if there is any gold I can salvage from those old ramblings.

What am I doing back here? Well, I started the NaNoWriMo project. I thought I'd make a blog to chronicle my attempt at such an ambitious writing project and post my progress, failures and experiences along the way. Something that I can look back on when it's all done and see where it likely went off the rails!

 I'll say ahead of time, this novel is going to be a wreck. I usually write poetry. This will be the longest thing I've ever written clocking in at around 50,000 words. I'm using an idea I had for a short story and half-ass developed. Hopefully I can create some interesting subplots and get a little more mileage out of it.

At any rate, you can follow my progress here if you're so inclined: R.D. Crocker

I've also got a Facebook Author page you can find here: R.D. Crocker Author

Blogging about writing... I know how redundant that is. Trust me.

Before the world you know was like it is
I held a lover once and I was his
And we walked along the river in the sun
But he's a lonely man, so this was done
The only place we had to meet was night
While the sun he sleeps in shadows we can hide
On the mountainside we spent our time together
but it is gone when morning comes

And you are the wolf
And I am the moon
And in the endless sky we are but one
We are alive
In my dreams wolf and I

How many days and nights will come and go
While the only light you'll see is from my glow
There will never be a dawn that breaks the spell surrounding us
Til the earth dies with the sun

And you are the wolf
And I am the moon
And in the endless sky we are but one
We are alive
In my dreams wolf and I
(Repeat)

Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh (4x)
Aaah aaah aaah aaaah aaah (2x)

In the endless sky we are but one
Hmmmm mmm

Quote for today

The fact is that the average man's love of liberty is nine-tenths imaginary, exactly like his love of sense, justice and truth. He is not actually happy when free; he is uncomfortable, a bit alarmed, and intolerably lonely. Liberty is not a thing for the great masses of men. It is the exclusive possession of a small and disreputable minority, like knowledge, courage and honor. It takes a special sort of man to understand and enjoy liberty - and he is usually an outlaw in democratic societies.

H.L. Mencken, February 12, 1923

Quote for today

Irrationally held truths may be more harmful than reasoned errors.
- Thomas H. Huxley