This is going to be a terribly personal crash story, maybe to provide an anecdote on how to get into and out from a “rut”. Or call it depression, the non-clinical kind. Or having no-life.
I was having the time of my life – creating music, performing some little live shows – we weren’t terribly popular, but it was a fun way to spend time, regardless. We didn’t earn any money with it, but for some reason we kept doing it, regardless.
I could say that the descent into rut, of course, takes a lot more conditions to align than what happened within the 6 months – but it is poetic to title it this way – and there is a bit of truth in there – while the 6 months mark, if I may put it this way – was the point of no return – I had been headed towards that black hole for many years – with the choices I had made and relationships I was and wasn’t in with the people around me.
I loved writing music. I felt as if that was the thing I was born for. Everything else stopped mattering when I was dealing with it. Maybe I was even a bit manic when it came to that – just too bad I wasn’t manic about making it a business. It was going so well that some of the friends I had back then, around, supported it – some even to the point of joining me on stage and writing music with me.
In the spur of that mania I even switched one long-time boyfriend for another – one that also felt more supportive about anything I was doing, and participated in my musical projects. It was awkward, but I found all the justifications for the switch, so life was a show for me, and I was the lead.
6 months after that switch I lost my day job at the CD store – but that was fine, the new boyfriend crutched me enough until I found more work and the show went on. It went on spectacularly – while I switched jobs once again – unbeknownst to me at the time into another bear trap – the music was going great, I had two bands, I did music with 7 different people, and I couldn’t imagine myself happier. I had no problems at all.
And just by the moment I felt things are about to get really good, and we had a solid repertoire, and it’s going to blow up for the good – I get the type of message, “it’s not you, it’s me” – from my wonderful co-writer and pianist – participating in both of the projects. “I feel like I’m holding back your progress.”
And it might have even been on the same day that I also got a very similar message from the drummer, saying she wants to focus on her own band.
The projects were done. Their reasoning felt like a load of bullshit, but for some reason I didn’t probe them for more honest answers. I do wonder whether I had been a dick to them, whether I was a terrible friend, was I being too tyrannical? Was, what we were doing, really bad (they were all music school people, and I wasn’t – so, they might hear things that I simply am incapable of).
I see her then doing something completely unexpected, she’d chosen to join a different project – while her choices were none of my business – it really did break my heart.
So, because the projects were cancelled, I had fuckall to do with my free time. I could have kept writing the music, but I didn’t. I downloaded TERA and started playing that. I made some “online friends” and would stay up late at night playing and chatting with them.
And then the next “it’s not you, it’s me” happens. The boyfriend, my champion – kicks me out.
I was sobbing at work, saying I can’t afford to live in this town on my own with this salary, so, they gave me a raise so that I could. Barely, but could. I’ll say it was 700€, rent and all that was about half of it.
And where-ever I moved, I made sure it had stable cable internet connection so I could keep playing. And keep playing I did.
I never went out, I never reached out to anyone I had known – and that includes family members – I hadn’t been keeping in touch with them for a while even before this – as they disagreed with my life choices and I with theirs, back and forth.
So, for the next 3 years, I just worked for a horrible man (you might want to say that all business owners are heroes… But I will dispute that. And if you go all economist on me on that one, I am happy to fucking block you).
I’d come home from work, maybe not even eat – and I’d play all the hours I had for myself. And all the week-ends, too.
So, there was some semblance to life inside the game – there were social connections, guilds, activities, friendship-like-things, drama, competition, cooperation… Eventually, I even met a few people – they came over here to Estonia.
2 years in to that crap, though – I experienced a strange episode – I was all over inflamed, the doctors couldn’t explain why – so they just gave me some anti-inflammatory stuff to bring the fever down. When the general doc then interviewed me after and asked if there is something else, I said yes.
I’m thinking of suicide.
To be continued.