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Of course it happens like that.
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runningnekkidfd didn't pull my most recent post, which really bothered me, and not only because the five other people signed up for the feed are very important to me.
It's frustrating because I finally posted a piece on my struggle with depression. I've been working on this piece for three months or more, and I've been chickening out on posting it because of the internalized shame that comes with speaking frankly about wanting to kill myself. About haivng a disease that tells me to kill myself. About having depression.
But on Friday night, I finished it. I felt like I said what I wanted to say and opened myself up to writing about this even more honestly in the future. I work hard every day to reduce my risk of suicide. I work hard every week to understand my disease so that I can continue dismantling it.
Posting the piece was a struggle. Tweeting about it was nerve wracking. At every step, my depression fought with me so that it could remain a secret; so it could keep alive. But I did those things. I felt, at least a little bit, victorious.
But then livejournal barfed and the syndication failed and it felt like there was something else, this technology, telling me that I should keep quiet. Don't share. Don't talk. And for eff's sake, don't you dare even think about whining. After all, don't you know that talking about depression is the ultimate whine?
But it's not.
Anyway, I wrote a post about depression. I'm really proud of it. And livejournal feed or no livejournal feed, I wanted to share it in as many was as I possibly could. So here's the "teaser" text from the website, with a link to the full post. It'd mean a lot to me if someone would actually read it.
The Death of Suicide
“I can accomplish anything if I just don't kill myself today.”
runningnekkidfd didn't pull my most recent post, which really bothered me, and not only because the five other people signed up for the feed are very important to me.It's frustrating because I finally posted a piece on my struggle with depression. I've been working on this piece for three months or more, and I've been chickening out on posting it because of the internalized shame that comes with speaking frankly about wanting to kill myself. About haivng a disease that tells me to kill myself. About having depression.
But on Friday night, I finished it. I felt like I said what I wanted to say and opened myself up to writing about this even more honestly in the future. I work hard every day to reduce my risk of suicide. I work hard every week to understand my disease so that I can continue dismantling it.
Posting the piece was a struggle. Tweeting about it was nerve wracking. At every step, my depression fought with me so that it could remain a secret; so it could keep alive. But I did those things. I felt, at least a little bit, victorious.
But then livejournal barfed and the syndication failed and it felt like there was something else, this technology, telling me that I should keep quiet. Don't share. Don't talk. And for eff's sake, don't you dare even think about whining. After all, don't you know that talking about depression is the ultimate whine?
But it's not.
Anyway, I wrote a post about depression. I'm really proud of it. And livejournal feed or no livejournal feed, I wanted to share it in as many was as I possibly could. So here's the "teaser" text from the website, with a link to the full post. It'd mean a lot to me if someone would actually read it.
The Death of Suicide
“I can accomplish anything if I just don't kill myself today.”
That probably sounds either melodramatic or obvious, but for most of my life, this lifesaving mantra has required herculean reserves of emotional stamina. (read more)
