Welcome, y’all, to the former ghost town known as BiblioNyan. After my last post, I dropped off the map completely. Today, I wanted to have a very candid and brutally honest chat about what happened to cause me to disappear in such a fashion. Before I jump in, I want to offer some content warnings. I curse a lot (of course). There will be detailed discussion of depression, mention of suicide ideation (includes descriptions of different ways to commit suicide), mention of getting buried (metaphorically), and discussion of agonising grief. Lastly, this may get a bit prattley as I am writing it on the fly in full genuine glory, but then again, if I don’t ramble on and on, then clearly this is some alternate universe of BiblioNyan where being succinct is the way of life.
Alrighty, grab a beverage and buckle up, my chums.
Recovery has made my depression a monster. There have been plenty of days where I have felt nothing but inadequacy and gut-wrenching loneliness. When there is absolutely nothing to do, the brain becomes antsy and turns to rumination as a way to stay busy. Because of my ADHD, the restlessness that my brain was feeling ignited like it had been doused in gasoline. No matter what I did, I could not stop a plethora of thoughts from flittering through my mind like a flipbook, and most of those musings were of terrible things that I have tried to forget and move past. Yet, when one is stuck in bed day in and day out with very little else to do, the mere attempt at forcing a transition from sad and negative into fluffy and positive can feel like one is trying to move a mountain with their tippy toes. Eventually the pressure causes pain, and the pain intensifies as the bones break and shatter.
I was stuck in a quicksand of sadness and uncertainty. My confidence dwindled down into nothing and I made an impromptu decision to never blog again.
One of the things that my mind fixated upon was my blog platform and how insecure I feel as a content creator. I love writing and discussing things that set my whole being on fire with excitement. Even so, to some degree or another, I have always felt like I have been on the outside of the community. Chock it up to my neurodivergence, my strange and dry sense of humour, or the fact that I am so fucking awkward at making conversation that the moment I enter a discussion, I make things so uncomfortable, everyone clams up. Or maybe there’s something else lying beneath the pile of ashes that formulate the foundation of these feelings of being a failure. Who knows. The point is that rather than being able to concentrate on the good things, I was stuck in a quicksand of sadness and uncertainty. My confidence dwindled down into nothing and I made an impromptu decision to never blog again.
While I was knee-deep in my tent of tenacious self-loathing, I even contacted a fellow blogger to let them know that I was done. I wanted to give them a head’s up so people didn’t think I died (when I go silent for too long, I get messages asking if I’m okay and still alive, especially with my heart condition). Then I broke off a collaboration interview thingy of sorts because I didn’t want to waste that creator’s time and space for a blog that was essentially nothing more than silent dissipating deadweight. I continued to feel like shite, and I allowed myself to wallow voraciously in this pit for another few days. Then one morning I woke up with some really amazing ideas for anime-related posts. I even outlined them beginning to end and felt incredibly proud. It took about an hour before it hit me that I chose to quit. I had no idea what to do. So, I contacted another blogger. This time someone whom I admire greatly and am ridiculously intimidated by. With their help, I was able to understand some of what was weighing me down and made a list of possible solutions to the issues I was faced with. Even if we didn’t walk out of that conversation with any possible resolutions, it felt really nice to just be able to talk someone else about what was going on in my head.
It’s such an incredibly toxic and problematic way to approach the world and any potential obstacles that life shoves into your face, but it was all that I knew for the longest time.
I don’t like reaching out to people. I was raised in a household where asking for help has always been viewed as a source of weakness. It’s such an incredibly toxic and problematic way to approach the world and any potential obstacles that life shoves into your face, but it was all that I knew for the longest time. Granted, after meeting Madame Gabs, I have been working very diligently to change these hazardous perceptions on emotional problem-solving. Some days are good, some are bad, and some are an untidy tangle of uncertainty. Either way, I am making progress, one small kitten step at a time. Reaching out to this blogger and opening up about something that was incredibly personal was one such step.
After talking to them, I sat down and made a list of the solutions they suggested. Then I made a secondary list of things I want to accomplish and things I have no interest in (relating to content and possibly axing them from the blogspace). Then I made one more list, one strictly of all the negative feelings I had in relation to being a blogger, specifically with how much I felt like I didn’t belong in a community of such brilliant creatives with endearing personas. The goal was to write down an opposing feeling beside the negative one as a means of combatting these disheartening emotions on a purely psychological level; a coping method as it were. That may have been the goal, but the spaces beside these words are still empty.
Now, I feel I should say that while I was undergoing these depression-infused difficulties, I was still writing book reviews and creating content on The Djinn Reader, which I find to be utterly fascinating. On the one hand, I was ready to quit, yet on the other, there was this completely different human still grinding out the meat. My theory is that since The Djinn Reader was crafted to be a semi-professional space for semi-professional reasons, whenever I sit down to create content for it, I did so under a guise. The words are all authentic, but they are painted with a veneer that forces me to remain enthused and bright-eyed. As an uplifting space of professionalism, being vulgar and brutally honest about suffering through intense bouts of mental illness is just not how that space was set-up. It allows me to pretend to be someone else while I’m there. I try to channel my brother’s lawyerly presence, although I’m sure that’s not what upchucks out of my brain in the end.
So… these are the things that have kept me away from BiblioNyan. During the process of untangling my feelings about being an outsider and a terrible blogger, I also felt so profoundly lonely. I hate the holidays. They are a constant reminder of a green-eyed, fair-skinned, black-haired gangly fool whom I refer to lovingly as “Brother.” Christmas was when he would host a big dinner and invite all of our friends. Since we were always busy with life shenanigans, this was the time of year that we congregated at my brother’s gigantic house and celebrated all of our holidays together. Eid. Diwali. Hanukkah. Christmas. Lunar New Year. It was always such a spectacular vision of culturally diverse celebrations. A found family of misfits who found comfort and a sense of belonging in one another. With his death, we all went our separate ways and things have never been the same. When I died in February and I saw him, waiting to bring me to the other side, I felt peace. I was ready to go. When I had my heart surgery in September, I went into that gig hoping on some level to die because I knew that I would finally be with the most important person I had ever known. But I woke up and… I haven’t been the same since.
Every breath that I took was a rebellious cry against my depression and suicidal desires.
I have thought about killing myself so often these last few weeks. I contemplated drinking to death. Indulging in an overdose of narcotics (for which I am a recovering addict; have been clean for almost 6 years now). Slitting my wrists. Driving off a cliff. Yet, no matter how much I thought about it, I knew that if I died this way, I would never ever see him. I’d never reach him. Forever is far longer than twenty years. It wasn’t worth it to me. In the end, all these thoughts did for me was to remind me how much I fucking miss him. Every bone in my body aches with remembrance of the only person who ever believed in me. The only person who ever supported me in every outrageous endeavour that I wanted to pursue. Every breath that I took was a rebellious cry against my depression and suicidal desires. I promised him years ago I would never take the easy exit. A part of me hates him for it. A part of me hates myself.
In the end, I had to find my way out of this pit. I needed to stop feeling like this and to prevent my ADHD-ridden brain from having this much control over my emotions and mental fortitude. After talking to the Blogger Whom Shall Not Be Named (only because I don’t know if they want me to mention them) and gaining some perspective on what other bloggers thought about me and the content I created, I had some ammunition to use in telling my brain to “Fuck off.” I spent another week-ish working on healing from the turmoil that recovery and depression had buried me beneath, and let me tell you, I am fucking exhausted.
Depression is exhausting already. It zaps the energy from your body like lightning and all that’s left is the inability to move in every way imaginable. So, in order to fight depression sometimes you have to do the one thing your brain and body don’t want you to. You have to fucking move.
Depression is exhausting already. It zaps the energy from your body like lightning and all that’s left is the inability to move in every way imaginable. So, in order to fight depression sometimes you have to do the one thing your brain and body don’t want you to. You have to fucking move. Toss in some Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and a congenital irregular heartbeat for kicks, then the brew is quite fucktastic. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m madly addicted to caffeine because that is the only thing that gave me a strong enough kick in the arse to get out of bed and get out of my own bloody head. Everything after that is just sugar and milk in the tea.
Seventeen hundred words of bullshitry to say… I didn’t give up. I wanted to and this wasn’t the first time that I felt this way (long time followers shall surely remember my sporadic bouts of indecision, particularly during the shitstorm that has been 2020). Yet, I’m still here, still standing. Well, I’m actually sitting in a leather office chair with a cat hanging on the headrest, but you know what I mean.
I want to apologise to the people whom I had informed of my quitting. They weren’t lies. They were the truths of an incredibly depressed and emotionally impulsive individual that at the time felt it was their time to stop. I’m sorry, nonetheless. This also probably won’t be the last time where I shall feel things like this. That’s the beauty of having severe depression and anxiety and inadequacy issues because of over-domineering parentals. Just when you think you’ve beaten the bastard, a surprise final boss comes out of the shadows to slam you back down (picturing the fiercely badass Pete Dunne). But it’s okay. Each battle makes me a bit stronger and more capable of taking on whatever comes next. I shall fall flat on my face. I shall bleed into the concrete. I shall curse like a motherfucker (I’m a goddamned Olympic Gold Medallist at this, boi). But I won’t lose. I won’t give in. Unfortunately, it’s just not in my nature, no matter how badly I want it to be sometimes. The legacy of my dead brother.
The reason I rip myself open like this is because I never want anyone out there to feel like they’re alone. That they can’t be understood or empathised with.
As far as what to expect next… Lots of blogging and continued honesty and transparency always. The Djinn Reader is my space for being someone else for a little while, at least in presentation (I never compromise my authenticity and the sincerity of the content I create, just alter which platter it’s placed upon). But BiblioNyan is where I bleed on to the paper with my heart, soul, and spirit. It’s where I can give myself some reprieve from the demons of my mind by expelling the baggage in a post or two and where I can hope to help someone else who may be struggling as I have or currently am. The worst feeling in the world is that of being alone. When I’m at my personal worst, thinking that I have no one can be a real hindrance in my ability to conquer what’s destroying me. The reason I rip myself open like this is because I never want anyone out there to feel like they’re alone. That they can’t be understood or empathised with. If some lost human stumbles onto the vulgar hot mess of BiblioNyan, and if even one word can give them the comfort to make it to another day, then all this bleeding and coughing and hacking that I do here shall be worth it. It helps me, but I hope above all else that it helps you too, my friend.
In a future, far less dreary post, I shall share some of my goals for BiblioNyan moving forward a bit more thoroughly. I do have a couple of community-based collaborations in the blueprints that I shall be announcing soon. (If you’re a fan of Natsume’s Book of Friends and want to join in on a collab gig, let me know in the comments and I’ll find you on socials somewhere.) I shall also reach out to some folx to see if they’ll be interested in writing posts for this space.
With that, I want to say thank you for taking the time to read this humongous kikimora of a post. Now you know why I’ve been gone and how I found my way back. Thank you for still being here on BiblioNyan and for supporting me through the intense ups-and-downs that this space has faced since things with my heart conditions took a turn for the worse (I feel that is when I really lost my way with everything in life, not just blogging, although blogging did take the brunt of the hit). Your support and kindness is eternally appreciated and the thing that helps me find my way back home after wandering the forest alone in the dark for too long. Thank you so very much.