Tuesday, July 27, 2010

"it's the opheliac in me"

Going back to a previous blog post from May about my lack of updates on my blog, I wrote that it may have been because I tend to write more when I am depressed.  Since I was at a really good place regarding my mental health at that time, I surmised that I was less depressed, and therefore blogging less. 

It's ba-ack.

It started a few weeks ago with a few work-related stressers and got progressively worse with a few deteriorating personal relationships and a tense living situation (I am fully convinced that adult children should not live with their parents, for the benefit of both sides.)  I won't delve into the details, as they're much too personal to put on the public soapbox that is this blog. That, and you readers came to read about all things neo-Victorian, not my messy personal issues.

Suffice to say, things got so ugly, my own sense of worth was so low, and my outlook of the future so bleak that I had my suicide fully planned out at this time last week.  I was just waiting to complete my usefulness in a few projects of which I am an essential, if not an appreciated part--mainly the annual battle reenactment at Bushy Run Battlefield.

Then a loving friend purchased VIP tickets to the upcoming Emilie Autumn concert. I can't go without seeing her.  That, and it would be a slap in the face to my friend, who did it specifically to give me something to look forward to so I wouldn't focus so much on the act of self-destruction I had planned for.

I am still convinced that I wore out my use as a human being in high school.  But for my loving friends, I am certainly trying, for you at least, to focus my energies on getting another job, a car, and a place of my own, instead of focusing on my Opheliac tendencies.

And what are these tendencies?  They are results of the disease of Ophelia.  And what is the disease of 'Ophelia'? As Emilie Autumn's Dr. Lymer states in The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls:
"[The] 'disease of Ophelia' is the disease of the melancholy, mad, and female..."
The title track of Emilie Autumn's Opheliac album has been a great comfort to me as of late:
Studies show:
Intelligent girls are more depressed
Because they know
What the world is really like
Don't think for a beat it makes it better
When you sit her down and tell her
Everything's gonna be all right
She knows in society she either is
A devil or an angel with no in between
She speaks in the third person
So she can forget that she's me  
I am not alone in my thoughts of worthlessness or hopelessness.  You don't sympathize, Emilie Autumn.  You empathize because you get it.  I may be crazy, but so are you.

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