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Sunday, October 14, 2012

Resisting National Depression

Recently I went through a bad bout of anxiety. I am not sure what triggered it exactly, but I'm guessing it was a combination of a new wave of redundancies at work, letters from the bank about my dead step father's outstanding loan, a project I'm working on for a difficult client, the fact that lately I'm older than everyone I meet, and of course, the whole country collapsing before my eyes, not just economically, but much more importantly, socially. 

I was working very long hours and didn't want to go home and succumb to that vicious cycle of sleep, work, sleep, work. So after work, regardless how tired I was, I went out, usually well into the early hours. But I couldn't help waking up after just a few hours of sleep with a heavy feeling on my chest. Trying to fall back asleep made it worse, so I stopped trying and got up at dawn to walk the dog, go for a run, cook, read, do anything to keep me busy. In those three weeks I gradually began getting more and more irritable, which is highly unlike me, and could go from zen to furious bitch in seconds. Finally, last Sunday, I collapsed. 

During that period, I was talking to people about my anxiety and inability to sleep and without exaggeration, everyone I talked to had similar issues. It seems that the whole nation is suffering (among other things) from anxiety and sleep depravation. For sure, my generation does. 

I'm not the only one trying to combat my anxiety by going out every night and dancing like a maniac every chance I get. I'm starting to believe that all the people who fill the bars every night of the week are actually hanging by a thread, just like me. We're going out as if there's no tomorrow, because somewhere inside us we believe just that; rather sooner than later, there will be no tomorrow. 

Yes, dear comrades, I know. Instead of going out and drinking our life away we should get organized and start the revolution. Give us guns or give us a break. This is our last defense against national depression, our final grip on a sense of normality. The boat is sinking, and we want to go down dancing.

I personally think it was the cow. 

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