In a world where it's possible for anything, anyone, anytime; it's hard to control the negative when it all seems that it's impossible "just for you"...
A feelpiece by Bob Downlove
Manic Drepession, Bipolar Disorder, Manic Affective Disorder. Doesn't matter what you call it. It's still fucking ugly. It takes you on a ride you can't control, to places you can't predict nor describe, for times unfathomable, and often, unending. Yes, I'm talking about a "mood" disorder that is usually only caused by a chemical imbalance, and to you that's all it is, but to me it's the difference between cheering for Life, or praying for Death...
I haven't always been this way. This... DARK... It's only been the last few years really, as my life gets more and more fucked that I lose control of it more and more. Once upon a time I was a driven and motivated young apprentice, stars in my eyes and dreams of being a cruise ship Chef. Travelling the world and making money, perfect for a young guy with a lust for life. That was before it was all taken away from me.
They'd always said I had that ADD/ADHD shit, but all that really is, is just a label. A "too hard basket" to throw kids into coz you can't be fucked really delving into their psyche to see why they're fucked up. Here mother, take these pills and dope your child up. Trust me, I'm a motherfuckin psychiatrist!
So yeah they thought I was fucked up, mainly coz I really liked to fight. Like, really fight, and I was good at it... I didn't care if it was me vs 5 bigger kids, I just wanted to scrap. I wanted to take these hands and feet and put them thru EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE around me. Students, teachers, parents, friends, buildings and other inanimate objects...
Instead of prying into my life properly to find out This fucked up child was the victim of a sexually and abusive lifetime, these doctors would rather feed me up on dexamphetamines and other dangerous pills. I know I was on Ritalin for a short time but the one I remember the most was Melleril or however the fuck it's spelled. You can probably see, I'm not in the mood to give a single shit for spelling. Being constantly doped up to the eyeballs is no way for anyone to live, especially a 10+ year old kid in the vulnerable stages of development.
Eventually I got away from all those daily pills by running away and staging a siege on a rooftop in the state's capital city, some 3 hours drive from home. Told the bus driver some story about a lost Father (really I don't have one and if I did, I'd murder him anyway) and he let me ride up front with him to the City. Sure, it might have got me locked up in the state's leading child psych unit, but I finally got heard. Maybe I'll write more on this another time too, as I'm digressing from my original point (thank you bipolar, again!)
Recovery process after the Jaw was broken.
Fast forward 8 years after the incident with the jaw, 6 years after meeting the love of my life, and the birth of my 5 year old son and 2 year old daughter (my one true purpose in life, to be a REAL father - as mine didn't give a shit for me). I can't work coz my jaw is mangled and never really repaired, my teeth are shattered and rotten and fucked, from sitting on the public waiting lists for years and years, just to have something I didn't break, fixed.
I can't work, if you've ever had either dental sepsis or toxic shock syndrome or even blood poisoning, you'll know why. My teeth make me so sick all the time that they're practically killing me.
I've lost more jobs than I can remember in the last 3 years just trying to work and provide for my family, almost losing my life countless times in the process, because I'd rather kill myself at work than be a failure of a father. If it wasn't the sickness and absense it was the fact I was addled of my dial on heavy painkillers and not even knowing what planet I was on (mind you my last job was operating a widow-maker bench saw with a 4ft blade).
I've sold everything of value, while watching my two performance cars going to waste and disrepair, then gradually rotting to pieces in my garage. I have nothing left, no other option to feed my family but to claim disability (as much as I hate myself for it, I really am out of options)
My real life verification. Figure it's about time...
This magical thing that turns stories into money. From the moment I first saw it, I've barely been able to sleep. The excitement that I can maybe turn my life around is undescribable. I read the whitepaper. I liked it. It got me excited that 24 hrs from now I can be invested in the NEXT BIG NET-THING. I couldn't wait. I started writing at once in an attempt not to make fast cash, but build a following, and maybe one day cash out via the slow roll approach. I WANT to be powered up, and locked in for 2 years. But if you look at my account, I've had to pull funds out to survive... Herein lies the problem...
I've tasted some success... Had a few whale licks on great posts that really drove me to go harder and higher. I spend a LOT of time researching and planning my pieces, and even more time formatting and talking to my friends and big players to glean their opinions of my next moves and ideas... It was amazing knowing that people wanted to read about Coffee so I'd always be trying to learn new cool facts to share with you all.
We all write here for the prospect of making money. For some it's a Bonus, while others its the primary motivation... I can't say I fit into either. While I'd like to be in this for the long run, I need the money to survive, and like I said, herein lies the problem, as I'm putting far too much pressure on myself to succeed. If my post doesn't hit a good lick in the first hour, I'm pulling my hair out, asking all my friends what I did wrong, and over-analysing WHAT I DID WRONG.
My Steemit Coffee post is a fine example of this. During the setup of the props and the shooting with our professional equipment, I was so damn anxious, because I thought this was 100% gold-winning content. I was so anxious to get it out that I fucked up the title, which was meant to be "The First STEEMing Coffee" And didn't even realise until it was already posted. I feel that alone cost me bucks...
I posted it up at around 1am my time, as it was timed to be dropped with the launch event of our collaborative #steemianfoodnetwork tag. As usual I sat here refreshing the Blog page over and over and over, then as we all started to trend, it was the food/trending page. We strangled it. All of us took over the board, All intentions coming to fruition.
Some of us got our licks early, others got theirs afterward, but my post got none. Now before I go further I'd like to say I'm not bitter at them, the voters, or anyone. I'm just desciribing the waves of emotions that take control...
I sat there spamming (as much as I hate it) the team's links in channels, trying to avoid doing my own, hoping that if they get theirs, I'll get mine too! No, my post sat there in the middle, barely over $20 in a sea of near $500 posts. This one had verification, it even had my own new personal branding, shit, I even put the fucking steemit logo on the top of the froth! Was it worth my time, effort, and creativity? Nope. If I put the steemit logo on a pair of tits or had my own fucking cryptovlog it'd be 15k I think to myself and get real bitter about it, just part of the dealing process...
It was well after 5am when I finally hit the wall and crashed out, waking up every halfhour to hour checking my post. No movement? Fuck this day, back to sleep! Over and over I did this, until finally I could sleep no longer. I got up in a bad mood and went to go make a coffee...
When you've been working your arse off to blog about Coffee for a week and your last posts bombdived screaming ALLAHU AKHBAR, the last thing you wanna see is a fucking coffee cup. I rejected that harder than a red-headed stepchild and so began my day of kicking and screaming, ranting and raving. I really thought my content was golden and would kick the head in on anyone who said it wasn't so.
Not that I'm that far up myself, but when you're blinded by fire, you're blinded by fire...
I've been thru the denial, the hopeful, the anxious, the happy, the realistic, the rational, the hyper, and of course, the downright cunty moods... All in the last 4 hrs... Not because I want to, but because of a chemical imbalance in my brain that pretty much makes in impossible to regulate or control my moods...
Not that I'm trying to get the sympathy votes here, I'm trying to explain to people why they may see certain moods and comments from me. I'm happy for all who succeed, and of course I want some of it myself. It's only human. Sue me.
For the next 6 weeks, I can't do anything, as I'll be laid out on painkillers having all of my wisdoms and molars removed, preparing to have my jaw rebroken...
I cant fix myself or my life via hard labour altho I've tried many times. Steemit was my shot at redemption, at making a new start and being the man I'm supposed to be for my family who deserve so much better...
I honestly LOVE Steemit and everyone I've met here.
I wanna keep doing this, for as long as I can.
If it wasn't for my homie, Klye putting up with my ramble, my negativity, my firey rants, and of course my crazy hyper happy times, I'd never be able to post here at all, but he keeps pushing me to shake it off and go harder...
So I know most of you gave up reading long ago, only scrolling along to the bottom to hit the vote button, but if you actually read this, give me some feedback.
The Coffee thing wasn't my only idea, but it was received as well as a fart in an elevator so forgive me for having 9 rounds with myself over the whole idea entirely...
