So you know how you’re a really boring person? And everything you do is average and unspectacular and completely the norm and just like everybody else and everyone is the same and no one has any individuality and there are no special people and snowflakes melt into puddles and communism. Question mark.

Average doesn’t exist. Since there are people above and below, there is no such thing as average. And this may suck, because there is a comfort in average. But luckily, there are so many things that people can be above or below at, different things, and that makes everybody unique and special. Because you care.

And that’s what makes it interesting. The calibration. The being better and worse. You’ve always got an advantage at something even if it’s just because you got a head start. Or a jump start. After all, babies are pretty stupid. Often it’s because you invested in that something. And other people chose to invest in something else. That’s fine.

If you have an issue with the something you chose, choose something else.  If you’re concerned about the bottom of the pool, where no one can do anything, help the bottom pool find somethings. Help all the losers at the bottom bake pies that aren’t as delicious as yours, but are still better than nothing. Again, because you care.

We’re all exceptions to the norm. The norm is a myth. We’re all above and below in many realms. At many skills. In many ways.  Or at least some realms, some skills, and some ways.

So we’re all the outlaws of averages. YUP.

(Note: with some suggestions from my ever-growing friend.)

So you know how depression makes you really skilled at seeing all the reasons why people suck and the world is awful? And slowly you strip away your social circle by person by person until you’re isolated and easy pickings for the internal misery shrikes to stab you into bite-sized pieces of pure self-loathing?

Depression is kind of like a friend that tells you all the reasons other people are mean, or critical, or disrespectful so that you are hurt and afraid of everyone except your good pal depression who makes you feel comfortable and safe. And while convincing you that only your buddy understands you, it slowly submerges you in an ice bath of internal criticism until you’re pretty much drowning in your lonely, dark numbness.

And maybe your misery does this as a slightly misguided means of protecting you. Your pal depression wants to isolate you from external threats, but slowly redefines who is “threatening” until it’s pretty much everyone else. Then it’s really more about you reconsidering whether you want to interact less with others and be safer from external criticism, yet torn apart by internal criticism.

Sometimes it also feels safer to be your own torturer. Because again, there’s a comfort in the known, so in this case, your familiar despair. Knowing that you’ve done the worst you can to yourself means there’s not much room for other people to come along and poke or pinch your feelings into pain oblivion. At a certain point, you may realize that your internal self-flagellation has gotten so intensely awful that there is no way anyone outside of yourself could hurt you that badly. After all, since you know yourself the best, you know your flaws, you know your weaknesses, and you know just what to say to yourself to cause the most hurt.

Which makes you wonder, whether it wouldn’t be a good idea to let other people in on your torment after all. At least water boarders get tired eventually, and have to pause between taking turns. Not to mention, if you take the time to parse through what people are saying to you, sometimes it turns out that it’s less critical than your depression led you to believe. That your good pal was actually pulling a lens of shadowy negativity over your eyes, or blacking out all neutral stuff before letting you hear it. Then again, sometimes it turns out people around you are actually treating you like shit. And figuring that out is a bitch… Truth.

So if you want to be all alone in the depths of your freezing cold, personal misery pool, do so. It makes sense to keep yourself safe. If you want to let other people join you in there, do that. And if you want to swim to the surface to look around, go for it. Or if you want to drain some of the water and sit in a misery bathtub, superb. No matter what, when you get all pruney, you can hop out, dry off with a warm fuzzy towel, and then dive back in. Or stay out for a while. That can happen too.

So you know how you don’t have “a problem” and you’re totally fine despite whatever that thing is that you’re doing that is totally not “a problem” even though you don’t really think you should be doing it that much, so you’re maybe, kind of, like a little bit, in denial? But not really, because you’re fine. Totally.

A is for you’re addicted. That’s happening.

B is for but it’s cool, even though you’re addicted.

C is for really, it’s cool, having addictions is fine.

D is for well doing whatever you’re addicted to probably isn’t fine, but again, it happens.

E is for eventually you might want to consider that whole thing you’re addicted to and how to handle it.

F is for fuck this is too much effort…

Addictions suck. Because you feel like you have no control over something, but admitting that makes you feel like a pussy. So instead you just avoid admitting it and doing that whole “denial” thing while everyone around you gets on your case, being all “INTERVENTION!” Provided that they’ve noticed and care enough to do something about it.

And really, you know when you’ve lost control. Saying “It’s not a problem” is saying the opposite, because you feel the need to defend whatever it is that you’re doing. Not to mention you may be doing that whole thing where you’re all like “I could stop at any time. I just don’t want to, despite the fact that this other bullshit is happening as a result / I can’t do all this other stuff because of this thing I keep doing all the time / I can only enjoy doing other stuff if I do this thing all the time too.” Also, you know because you know yourself best, and you know yourself when you’re doing something too much, and you would rather be doing less of it, or even none of it.

Good that you do have control over your addiction. Because you’re doing it, and save for brain parasites, which are always a potential threat, you’re the one who controls your actions. You could always physically eliminate the thing you’re addicted to, and / or physically restrain yourself forever so that bam, you’re done, no more addiction. Yet forcibly controlling your actions is only the surface solution really. You’ve got to go for the root cause and figure out the whole thing to get long term addiction resisting powers.

Addiction is fed by depression things like self-loathing, defeatism, and the sense that nothing you do matters. What you’re addicted to may vary. Maybe you’ve got one solid addiction, maybe you’ve got two or three, and maybe you swing between addictions just searching for the perfect way to fuck yourself over. Then again, not all addictions are inherently destructive. Some are silly, or adorable, or even productive. You’re the only one who can decide when a repeat behavior has become a burden, a hindrance, an inconvenience, and then even something to “fix.” You’re the only one who can decide that it’s worth investing the effort to do whatever it takes to break out of those patterns, and minimize cycling through “I should fix this,” “I am trying to fix this,” “I messed up fixing this,” “I am a failure at fixing this,” “but still, really, I should fix this.”

So now you know exactly how to get over that addiction! No wait. There’s no information on that here… Tears. Finding ways of managing your cycles will be unique to you, and your particular brand of addictive behavior. Yet once you know that you definitely want to change things up, and once you know why, that underlying motivation will drive until it’s only a matter of time before you figure out how to reprogram.

It’s a new year. Surprise!