In a 48 hours space I heard two depressed friends speak 'what's the point of going on with this life' thoughts. I tried to gently appoint both to seek out professional help. But man, I don't know what is it about the last couple of months; there's people seeking therapy left and right, and when someone prods me with that kind of feeling I immediately drop everything and spend four hours with dedicated listening. It used to be dedicated empathetic listening, but I think someone a month ago overused it and my CPU dedicated to such matters just evaporated at once.
And you can't fake-care, and you can't sit there and truly listen and provide a shoulder to cry and lean on when you have no juice. And I'm not a professional therapist. So it's a choice; be a bad friend one can't lean on, or... no, there's no 'or'. You can't fake this. They need care and attention, and if I fake the patience (and resent them for it) they'll feel. And they won't know what's wrong, they'll only know this is making them even more unhappy.
The Magical Coach once told me that we don't exist to serve people, and that we always have to find the win-win point between being a pleaser and disregarding our own needs, and being a dick while caring for ourselves; and I think this month I need to push the slider towards the dick side, because I can't handle dedicated, 100% self-ignoring listening. I tried the other day, with a friend who deserves better, and it was just... not okay. And today the other one, and I find myself giving bland, textbook replies, trying to give them a shoulder while I really, really don't have the reserves to do anything of the sort.
I'm not sure why I ran out of juice. Perhaps that friend overusing it, a few weeks back. Perhaps the fact that terribly depressed people can be very selfish, and while it's understandable, there's a limit to how much unpleasant I can stomach. Perhaps it's this past week, with the weird plummeting into a miserable mood because of those tiny remarks about fat people; and perhaps I just overdid it.
Which is a good lesson to remember: don't stretch your empathy and giving in a total manner, or you end up both resenting the person you're trying to help, and having zero resources to help others in need.
So the bummer-train aside, I think I'm actually getting a little better. I processed my fuckstorm of emotions with writing techniques and some by talking to the people who said what ticked me off; and instead of lying on the sofa and eating, I further study Blender (inverse kinematics is so fucking confusing in this program) because I think I kind of got the animation bug. Thing is, I can't possibly go and make another 3 minute clip now; but the only thing I can think of that's interesting to look at a 5 second animation is explicit! Carnal! Acts! and I don't do that kind of art.
And I suddenly kind of want to study animation and directing, of course. Man, I love my life. Being at liberty to learn things, even pay a lot of money to do so, when they're entirely useless and there's not a hint of searching for a job on my horizon; purely for fun. I'm so lucky.
And the central ray of light is of course the husband, who's being unbelievably caring and spoily, and since he knows he can't spoil me with food, he surprises me by taking out the garbage even if I didn't prepare it for him, or by sweet text messages, or by arranging the toilet rolls in the closet in the shape of a heart. Those aren't unusual - he does tiny sweet things for me all the time - but the amount of caring in it is brain-kicking, and I maintain that in that aspect I'm truly, still, the luckiest woman in the world.
And two days ago Schpritzie exploded again, having not done so since I cut out sugar and gluten at the end of July. It might have been caused by all those days of sitting 15 hours straight on the clip, only manifesting when the adrenaline faded; it could have been the unexpected, radical reaction to the fat remarks; or maybe I just slept in the wrong position. Be it what it may, it's a good reminder to how bloody lucky I am not to have this on a daily basis anymore, and I just hope it passes quickly.
The sugar-and-gluten free thing isn't a diet, really, and dropping those is the simplest part of the training. The harder part is to slowly train yourself to avoid eating for any reason which isn't hunger. I've been repeatedly failing this since July (and still losing weight, so just imagine what could be achieved if you follow the plan), but in the last two days - following the clip-trip, I think - I managed to decide not to eat more of whatever, even though I wanted to, because I was full. Only twice; but I don't think I ever managed that before, in fourty years. Saying 'hey, I'm full, and if I eat this I'll get a stomach ache, and it will be here tomorrow for me to eat, and it will be just as tasty'. That might sound simple, but for someone who used food as a band aid (and a celebration, and a passtime, and a cure for boredom, and a social excuse) all her life, it's a nice achievement.
So. Less depressed people leaning on me, please. Less Schpritzie, and less fat-people-belong-in-fat-prison, please. And having a hype back about that clip would also be nice. And health for the people I love. And world peace. Yeah. That would be lovely.