Hello The Internet™,
I recently made free writing a daily ritual for me. It seems to be the one thing that doesn't feel like a total drag. As you know the pandemic has kept much of the world inside and my house has become something like a petri dish of sadness or a little demon chia pet. My spirit has become pretty dank (and I'm not just referring to the reefer lul); dark, foggy, humid-- overall pretty uncomfortable. Anyway, writing seems to be the only thing I do consistently these days and I'm grateful that it doesn't feel like a chore the way music, making food, and getting out of bed has felt lately. I still do those things because I feel its my responsibility to do so, but the emptiness seems so vast and my efforts seem so small.
Funny enough, in the midst of all my existential dread the depression gods have presented me with some great content to help cope. At the top of my list: The Midnight Gospel by Duncan Trussell and Pendleton Ward. I began watching it in the middle of a Tuesday and finished it at around 6am on Wednesday. The main character Clancy is a spacecaster who lives on The Chromatic Ribbon. Every day he sticks his head into a vulva shaped space simulator that shoots him out of a boob into other planets to interview its creatures who are on the verge of experiencing their apocalypse. It's definitely my flavor of weird. The conversations seem organic and get really deep but are paired with an absurd storyline in the animation. At one point Clancy and a deer dog (Annie) are on a conveyor belt discussing the concept of letting go, and just as soon as he grasps the message, they are ground up into meat mush--and that's not even how the episode ends! I'm really looking forward to going back and rewatching some prominent episodes again and hope that others are finding it as oddly comforting as I have.
As a result of watching the show I went down a Duncan Trussell rabbit hole only to discover his actual podcast and an episode where he honestly addressed his depressive state. My takeaway from the episode was to speak up and take action despite the deep discomfort . Today I did not follow that advice. I woke up with suicidal thoughts and even acted on some self harm. I'm not proud of this and am experiencing a mixture of residual numbness and guilt, but honestly I understand my state of mind as well. It's a constant work in progress to identify my quilt of moods and really eMbRacE tHeM... eye roll. I have a hard time wanting to open up about my inner darkness to others. I'm afraid there's a threshold that the unassuming people in my immediate surroundings can withstand. I am already exhausted thinking about it; the idea of explaining to someone and potentially getting unwarranted/unhelpful advice is.... more exhausting. Which is whYyyyyy I spontaneously decided to start a blog.
This is the one thing I will throw out my expectations for. It feels fucking good.