So here I am again.

This is bizarre, I have to admit it.  I last used this page in ::checks:: 2013 – holy shite.

Life has changed so much.  I don’t even know where to begin, really.

I’m a stoner now.

That’s a joke … sort of … not really.

I dropped out of college and never went back.  The depression hit me with such force that it knocked the feet right out from under me, knocked the wind out of my sails, knocked the chutzpa out of my heart.

I had been depressed before, of course.  I’ve been depressed all my life and it was getting worse with age.  But when it really hit, when it hit with both fists … when the gusts I was used to became a gale force wind …

A lot of wind analogies in this one …

A lot of long wind.  That, at least, I am still capable of, even if the content has suffered.  Been smothered.  Beneath so much.

At any rate.

So the depression got worse, the physical impairment didn’t help, I am unable to work, and for a long time I was empty of wallet, bereft of funds.  A puddle was deeper than my bank account – and not one of those car swallowing puddles you find in Oregon.

I’m stoned, and because I’m stoned, I’m rambling.

So I got depressed, got worse, got a lot worse, started taking Ambien so regularly that my life fell apart further, started drinking heavily, attempted suicide again.  I didn’t think it could get any worse.

Then I had Electro Convulsive Therapy (used to be called Electro Shock Therapy) and it really scrambled my brain.  My depression became worse, darker, deeper, more horrifying than it had ever been.  On top of that, the procedure ate holes in my memory, leaving this swiss cheese mess behind wherein I forgot entire skill sets and can no longer read more than an hour a day.

I rarely read, rarely write, the ECT took something from me that I didn’t think I could ever lose.  It took away a foundational part of who I was.  But, hey, it helped me break my drug habit!  All the good of commercial hypnotism with ten times the drawbacks.

I went to therapy, it helped a little, for awhile.  Then my  therapist, whom it had taken me three years to trust, left for a better job and I was cast afloat.  Stopped going to therapy, stopped doing much of anything.  My friends all but abandoned me, my mother told me if I was going to kill myself – just don’t do it in the house.

Then I got on disability and the daily stress was cut in half.  Sure, I still had the depression, bad friends, and holes in my brain, but at least now I didn’t have to live with the shame of poverty – begging the people around me for scraps.

I got a vehicle, moved in with my friend S and his father, and even made some investments in Bitcoin, which looked great and then tanked – but who knows what the future will bring?

I was able to get on food stamps as well, so between the two services I can still live the life of the impoverished, but at least now I can do it with a little money in my pocket each week.

Then, about a year ago, cannibis became legal in Oregon and six months ago I started smoking it daily.  It has cut my stress even further, helps smother my depression, calms my anxiety.  I have been an overall better person, more well adjusted, more accepting of my faults, since I started smoking full time.  It does make thinking difficult at times, and focussing, and retaining facts … it’s a trade off, and one I’ve decided to make because I already went through the alternative and after dozens of doctor-fed prescriptions, nothing else helped this much.

And now you’re caught up.

I came back here on a lark, originally.  I had received the notice that the service was reactivating and so reclaimed my account.  Then ignored it for about a year, until I noticed the link in my favorites and decided to give it a look.

I had not been prepared for the nostalgia.  I had not been prepared for the emotions.  I forgot how much this place meant to me.

So I’m back … at least part time.  We’ll see how it goes.

Or, as they say, how the wind blows.