Agony inside the dying head

When I look at these photos of Michael, I am convinced he was mentally and physically unable to perform the 50 concerts AEG had scheduled for him in London. He looks so exhausted and emotionally wounded. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, this poor man was in an incredible amount of pain. I can’t help but remember the words to one of his songs… I am the damned, I am the dead, I am the agony inside the dying head.

Bless you, Michael. I hope you are resting in eternal peace.

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Trying to keep my head above water

This isn’t a “pity post” – it’s just an update.

I haven’t been in a good place recently. I’m depressed. I’m sad. I cry all the time. Life in general feels overwhelming.

Depression saps my energy. Regular household chores seem too big an obstacle, so I do as little as possible. My concentration level is virtually nonexistant.

A few mornings ago I stood in the kitchen and held an antidepressant in my hand, contemplating for a moment if it would be worth taking. Did I really want to endure 2-4 weeks of adjustment and all the side effects that might linger indefinitely? Would it really benefit me to take it for a short time, since I was sure to quit once I started feeling better? The answers were clear, so I put the pill back in the package.

I never started going to counseling like I had planned on doing, so I guess I’ll give that a shot. It couldn’t hurt, right?