I’ve been doing a thing recently. I make lists of things that I can do to actively make me happy, or things that are SO brilliant, that even just thinking about them brings a tiny spark of joy. Contrary to the rumours, I am not *quite* as stupid as I look, so I do realise that this alone is not enough to keep the black dog at bay (If someone has told you that I once got all the way to Stansted before realising that my flight was leaving from Gatwick and consequently missed the flight they are lying). But you know, some days, when you’re in “that place” it’s hard even to make the corners of your mouth turn up, so just focusing on a tiny pleasure can help.
My list items have ranged from the very simple:
“Hot Cloth Cleansers exist. Use one.”
to the more out-reaching:
“There is someone you love. Text them.”
to the more physically active:
“Gangnam style. Dance to it.”
to the kind of stalky:
“Ed Miliband does a podcast. Listen to it.”
to the more vengeful:
“Sex Pests everywhere are quaking in their boots.”
to the very British:
“Find those memories of how you felt a year ago when you found out Trump was POTUS. SUPPRESS THEM!”
You get the idea.
Reader, I have to confess, whether this is helping, or whether I’m just coming through the worst of it naturally, I don’t know. Am I still angry a lot? Yes. Do I still cry for no good reason? Of course. Do I still stare at the ceiling before getting out of bed in the morning wondering what the point is? Of course I do. BUT I also am feeling like there is a little more life and sparkle behind my eyes than there was a couple of weeks ago. Will that last and possibly improve? Who knows? That’s the super exciting thing about depression. You just don’t know. [I’m happy to take bets on it, I’ve heard the bookie always comes out on top…. Anyone?]
One thing it has DEFINITELY made me do, is think more about positive things, which, I confess, is something I haven’t done much of since the Brexit result was announced. And I’ve realised that there is something I feel very positive about. Despite the doom and gloom of Brexit (which, quite frankly, is in a state so farcical that if it wasn’t for the damage it’s already causing would be hilarious), and despite the ridiculous Wannabe Dictator who has taken over in the White House, there is something that fills me with hope. And hope is good for my anxiety AND my depression.
Everywhere you turn progressive liberals are angry. They are taking to the streets. They are speaking out more. They are taking action beyond writing angry Facebook posts. There are people leaving high powered jobs in the film industry to set up companies to fight sexual harassment, people speaking out in support of the freedom of press and the importance of the fight against global warming, the importance of LGBTQ rights, the importance of freedom of religion (or lack thereof), and racial equality. Yes, it is still really fucking shitty. Yes, it does still feel like we’re falling into oblivion like Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff. But when you look around and you see all the positive stuff that’s taking seed, you feel like maybe you have a parachute. Sure, that anvil is still tied to your ankle, but maybe the rope is loose enough to untie before you smash through the ground below.
Is everything ok? No. OF COURSE IT ISN’T! But it’s getting better. And as the Demi-God Obama once said: Better is Good.
Better is good.
This post was originally published as ‘The Anxious Actor”
My Name is Not Debbie 