This is a strange period in my life.
I have more confidence in myself and have been feeling far less self loathing than I have in the past. I’m a really loving, capable person and have a lot of things going for me. I have the ability to do so many wonderful things with my life. It likely sounds strangely self deprecating to say that I’ve never felt better about myself than I do now but it’s true.
I’ve still been getting these bouts of debilitating depression. I don’t know why I experience them anymore. A year ago, I was having a lot of personal problems and it made sense. But now? Things are generally alright. I really have no complaints, objectively. I’m working to get through it. I’ve made the decision to get professional help in one way or another. I just want to be through with it. I want to be the happy, enthusiastic and productive person I know I’m capable of being.
I was having a morning. I could feel doom starting to kick in and my heart started to race. After a couple of days of feeling really quite good I was so afraid of feeling that sensation again. Just. Suffocating. I got on my bike and rode so fast to a second hand book store because Jesus Christ that seems to be my only salvation in these times.
I found a copy of Schizo #4. It’s one of those oversized deals. 11x15. All small self contained one page strips. I already owned it but sat there and read a few pages and found myself laughing out loud a few times in a couple of short minutes. Some of these strips are just so sad. So depressing. So relateable. And goddamn are they funny. To me, anyway. It helped me so much in that moment. I bought the issue, brought it home, and cut it up. I put the above strip along with a few others on my wall.
This only seems significant to me in that there’s a reason I write and draw things about the more depressing aspects of my life. The expression of such things from other creators has helped me so much in conquering my own afflictions. It’s damn important.