What I’ve Learned from My Depression (Part Four)
Be Wary Of Online Addiction
I spent so much time on Buzzfeed and Tumblr, I should’ve been given a content editor credit for their websites. I currently have three full folders of Buzzfeed links on my iPad and almost 7,000 likes on Tumblr. I haven’t revisited any of these likes or links, but I know they’re important to me because I took the time to read and rate them, and save them for future reference when I need or want to. I may have taken that addiction too far at work when I started using only those websites as reference tools for content. I did get a lot of good stuff from them, but I felt like I was cheating my mind of letting other websites invade and put their own crazy ideas into my suggestive mind. While I was spending a lot of time online, nothing decent was coming from it.
Hell, Be Wary Of Any Addiction
I have an addictive personality. I didn’t know it until I was 22 and I would immerse myself in media to distract myself from the people and places around me. It explains an awful lot of lost hours online and in books about nothing to try and understand the world at large. For me it was television shows that were readily available for me to stream and some in cases had a vast mythos that would let me get lost in content for hours. It was a way to escape without putting in the commitment to move forward. It got to the point where we (my family and friends) were completely okay with letting me get lost in something in trivial just as long as it wasn’t something involving my ex.
Self-Mutilation Crosses Your Mind
I don’t have a history of self-mutilation. The only scars I have on my body are ones that were accidentally etched into my skin during my childhood and my tattoos. During my lowest points I would occasionally go to the kitchen with headphones on, blaring something overly emotional and earnest while mentally replaying old dates and just hold a knife. I would never do anything with it, but somehow just holding that much destructive power in such a small piece of metal comforted me, and the idea of slicing my skin into a mosaic of flesh and scars would wash over me. It felt like the perfect way to cap my shitty existence, until the song would change I would snap myself out of it. That’s a chilling experience that happened more times than I care to admit, but don’t give into it. Those scars won’t heal how you want them to and you’ll have too much explaining to do.