G-natty, G-nagging G-nona

     This blog was first written September, 2013, and published then posted to Facebook for a few eyes only. After Robin Williams' suicide August 11, 2014, I re-posted it. Two friends gave feedback, I've edited the blog, and here it goes again, rated PG-18 for unfavorable content, believing someone, somewhere, might in some way receive minuscule insight into the depression fight...

• Don't forget to take your sublingual B-12 (never forget that).
• Time for much-needed, regular, mind-balancing exercise. 
• [As I enter the smelly elementary school to vote] wish they had told me about the strong oil-based paint smell... it clouds my mind and so do bug bites, (try unknowingly harboring 6 overnight deer ticks. Even mosquito bites invite the cloud)...
• and eating non-organic eggs is a mega malaise-invitation.
• Nope, had pork yesterday. 
• Mold is high and crep myrtles are blooming. Be prepared.
• Nope, better not drink that second cup of caffeine tea. It makes me crazy AND sleepless. 
• Don't forget your D-3 sublingual vitamin to sleep well, and the ginger essential oil, too.
• Staying away from everything is impossible, so always be on guard for the dark cloud.

     Keystroke after keystroke, I type at my laptop. It is a marathon, manic three-blog day. These writings may only selectively be posted to Facebook, but nevertheless, I am fiercely determined to tap one stroke after another and fervently compose.
 
     The topic in this blog is uncomfortable. It is punctuated by a difficult-for-me Dr. Oz Show that aired a while back. I cringe to publish this, but feel compelled. 

     Similar to those who experience the physical effects of asthma and deal with it proactively, I must take a proactive, offensive approach to a different kind of weakness. It is the unspeakable... MIND... weakness. It is the dark cloud of depression. Triggers, for me, include the itemized list above with these effects:

• allergy- or sickness-induced emotional flatness, 
• toxin-intolerant lethargy, and
• lack of deep sleep "if-onlys." 

     These all invite depression's distortions. Dehydrating alcohol is off-limits and allergy meds and prescripts are tenuous.

     My heritage includes ugly suicides as well as its essence. I, too, am prone to possibly entering to the dark-side. I've had a few hopeless, "The unthinkable would be so..." experiences, and playing with fire is not my cup of tea.

     Two relatives (were there more?) were lost to short-sighted hopelessness, distraught about their careers and other issues, intentionally ending their lives in their 30s and 40s... a father and son, tragically making statements decades apart. Manic depression. Outrageous highs and low lows. Addiction doesn't run in my family; it gallops. I want to halt the generational madness, and everyone's generational madness.

     I am anything but a skilled professional regarding this topic, but I do have personal experience, since depression and desperate suicide both solemnly season my family tree. I've read that hopelessness is a [searing] stronghold. Those who are familiar with its relentless voice know the mental torture tactics... to oppress an energetic imagination with half-truths. Reality is darkened and embellished into a narrowed and spiraling hopeless figurative dead end.
    

G-natty g-nats blur this walker's perception
& G-nagging G-nona blurs my perception

     To counteract depression's downward spiral, I first determine that it and its thoughts are anything but friends; rather, it is an egocentric, g-narcissistic g-nemesis. I label my depression's dark spiral, "G-nona." I have determined that nursing Nemesis G-nona's thoughts not only clouds but darkly distorts perception.

     Depression's smoke malaise works by comparing blurred reality with clear, unattainable perfection. Reality is rarely rosy, and when in the midst of malaise, downer thoughts actually feel... comfortable. Justifiable. 

   

     Learning to recognize the unrelenting enemy's personal self-talk is critical for me, because once the malaise settles, the half-truth self-talk is convincing. The message is normally familiar, maybe with a minor spin. Sometimes it is self-deprecating combined with entitlement; other times a chasm of pouting paranoia. Nursing one episode, feeling hopeless and helpless, actually seems to invite and encourage another episode. 

     So, I've begun to take an out-of-body approach, and repeatedly counter and disregard G-nona's despairing message with: Stop it! Stop it!
    
     This particular paragraph is a post-script, a few days after publishing this 2013 blog. The worst (in months) endless onslaught and affront of depression occurred, but I didn't allow spiraling doom to penetrate into my mind. Pro-active exercise, Sublingual Vitamin B-12 (my body doesn't absorb normal B-12), TV-distractions, toe-nail polishing, and showering subdued my thoughts. The heavy malaise basically robbed my day, and even praying was impossible; but its vigilant mental assault didn't penetrate. There is no better way to address the g-natty g-nemesis, except with pulverizing words (please excuse my French):

G-NATTY, G-NAGGING G-NONA SUCKS!!!

&
STOP IT! STOP IT!!! 

     God has provided no grandiose or miraculous cure for my challenge; but, over the last decade seems to have opened little insights, to help infuse steady emotional self-talk; i.e. pre-programmed, realistic counter replies when I am at my weakest.to G-nona's half-truths.to benefit myself AND the generations to come.because it seems that my grown family still needs me.with eyes wide open and present.

     Thus far, my essence remains heritage-reflective (overly-sensitive feelings hover close to the surface); yet, most days I'm leveler-headed. Maybe ♫somewhere over the rainbow♫ positive infusions will create a sanded, softer yet stronger side. Kind of like quilted Northern bath tissue. Quilted to be soft yet strong, to wipe away (again, please excuse my French) G-nona's crap. 

     I will strive for strength and assuage my disdain of imperfection. A candid Running From Crazy video is shared below (click refresh if the video doesn't appear):

     Like Mariel, fortunately yet unfortunately, I've had generations from which to learn. Recognizing sneaky G-nona early into the onslaught is huge. I step back, turn into Detective Sherlock Holmes, and ask: Okay, why does everything this moment seem to have what I call the impossible-spin? Is there something that triggered G-nagging G-nona's infiltration? Sleep deprivation? Allergens? Toxins?... Before my thoughts spiral to doom, "Nip it, nip it, nip it!!" (Barney Fife, The Andy Griffith Show). 

     Somehow, some way choose strength, even though wallowing's bubble is impenetrable during an episode. Hit G-nona head-on with a B-12 and try to ignore her sallow self-talk. Forget myself, even though distraction from sadness is impossible, and being in crowds of happy people actually seems to intensify sadness. No matter, dig out, and at least try to positively focus on one other person's world.

     To the intellectual, this may all sound like manic, indiscernible ramblings. It is, unfortunately, the best way this blogger knows how to communicate about (prior to this blog, unnamed)...  G-nona.