All good things
Posted Under: Uncategorized
It is a regular and pleasant occurrence in my life that when I go downstairs in the mornings, there will sometimes be a package waiting for me. I am lucky enough to have a few friends who love me enough to send me regular parcels of good-will and caring, whether they be books or CDs, or just a drawing. They are a nice, understated way of letting me know I’m cared for from afar. I find it ultimately very comforting. So imagine my surprise and bemusement when this morning, these turned up:
Now, I didn’t even know you could deliver flowers by post, so this was an unfamiliar variation on the theme to me. (A side note – they came in a cardboard box – I supplied the vase and arranged them myself). I soon recalled, however, that my lovely friend Brett, who lives in California and seemingly has more money than sense, made some references to having sent me some things in the post. This, presumably, was the culmination of this. Sure enough, I later found a card in the box confirming that they were from Brett. What a darling he is. All was well.
Upon finding them a home (which was a challenge – we don’t get many fresh flowers in, but we eventually settled for the kitchen windowsill), I retired to my room to take a dose of Dexedrine1, for the first time in my life. I have ingested numerous forms of medication in my time, all of which aspire to cure me of my inability to do anything repetitive for any length of time. While in recent years this has declined in severity, the period of my life between when it would be reasonable to assume memories would start forming and, say, 16 are a complete haze. I can remember not one instance from that decade of what should be at least partial sentience and clarity in any form of sentience or clarity. Every memory is viewed through a gauze of utter disconnectedness and a rampant internal monologue. And I remember – I remember seeing it like that at the time. I was impossible. School was impossible. Wading through my life as a child with what seemed to be a firmer, thicker skull on the outside of my own with a magnetic attraction to anything that wasn’t work was impossible. But I managed, and here I am.
Sometimes, things are still impossible. I tried to put up the chords to all my songs today under my music pages. I had taken the Dexedrine, and I was focused. I was ready. And then the doorbell rang, and -
For the second time in my life, and for the second time that day, somebody had ordered flowers for me through the mail, and they had arrived, beautiful, resplendent and fragrant, but utterly homeless and more than slightly confusing. Eventually, as you can see, we found a place for them on the mantelpiece, but it required some ornament shuffling that I won’t even go into. I went back upstairs, putting the flowers from my mind, and for the second time in my life, and the second time that day, took another Dexedrine, and completely failed to do any work whatsoever for the next eight hours.
The problem with medication of any kind is that it’s pretty blunt and general, and the human body is infinitely complex and detailed, particularly in bits like the brain. Very specific problems can arise in bodies, and the medicines we make have basic functions that can raise or lower things generally, but can never be precise enough to target just the bit that’s wrong. This is why side-effects exist. You can’t not fuck something else up when you fix the thing you’re trying to fix.
I feel cold and empty as I write this. I feel a sort of detachment that isn’t sadness, necessarily – but it’s on the same level as sadness. The drugs have tried to fix whatever’s wrong in my brain, and they have missed. They’ve hit me in a place I’m not sure I entirely understand even though I’m living through it, and if you were to ask me how I feel, I’d say I don’t know. If you asked me what I want to do, I’d say I don’t know either. I’m blank right now. There’s nothing inside me at all.
It’s at low points in a life that the simplest things can make huge differences. Everything we know is relative to everything else, and it’s astonishing how quickly things can change. Happiness is one of the most free-spirited and fleeting things I know. At the start of today, I felt loved and cared for, and in only a few hours I forgot what it even felt like to be loved at all. It’s happened before on other medications, and it’s always horrible.
Now, though, I’m feeling a lot better. I’ve restored the kitchen windowsill and the mantelpiece back to how they were, and now there are two vases of flowers sitting on my desk, surrounding me with tenable proof of what it’s like to have someone love you and care about you, reminding me of how wonderful my friends are, and proving, in their own sedentary, unassuming and sweetly fragrant way, that a little token of happiness will always go miles further than any chemical compound will. I’ll never quite work the way I’m supposed to, but at least for now, I’m happy again.
Tom
1a.k.a dexamfetamine sulphate. Dexedrine ®UCB Pharma Ltd.
YouTube
DFTBA Records
Twitter
Reader Comments
Tom, I'm sorry you've been going through all this. However, I recommend researching into a homeopathic remedy to help you. I can't recommend a specific one, because I'm not familiar with what you're going through, but I'm sure a little research would do the trick.
) that if you set up a PO BOX (or whatever they are called in the UK) people would send you lovely things all the time (:
Also, I bet you 10 bucks (well, pounds because they're worth more
That was beautifully written Tom! I know exactly how you feel, I have ADHD and people sometimes think that the vyvanse I take just makes me stop being hyper and helps me focus, but it really does a lot more and also has some awful side effects. I feel like I'm not really myself, that I'm all alone and there is no sense of attachment to anything, and it's just so horrible. I'm so glad to hear you're feeling better! ^_^ <3 Always remember that there are people who think that you are an amazing person with amazing thoughts in your brain, and that you are never alone. <3
I would deff send things occasionally. Tom you should set up a PO box.
I can definitely relate. It's like I'm watching someone else's life, and I'm not really experiencing anything.
This is a grand idea. I'll look into it!
Tom, you are a really lovely person, who I have a lot of love and admiration for.
Thank you for this honest blog. There are lots of us out there with mental health problems and the more we tell people about them, the less of a stigma there is.
I too would love to send you something if you had a P.O. Box or similar.
Oh and ignore the homeopathic remedy idea: There's no evidence that they work (or realistic reason why they should.)
You're a beautiful person I'm afraid I'll never fully understand.
(:
And I thought my OCD was bad. I'm sorry =[ I hate medicine as well. That's why I don't take it.
Come now, don't deny it until you try it. I'm no “homeopathic is the ONLY way to go” kinda gal, but I know from experience that they do work, in many cases. And why not try it, especially if other methods have been unsuccessful? There's plenty of evidence that they work; and how is there no realistic reason why they should work?
That is a great idea! I would totally send nice things in the post! ^_^
Agreed! I love homeopathic remedies because they do work (sometimes
), but they have less side effects than synthetic drugs, so they work well for people who don't do well with traditional medication (hence why they might be recommended for Tom's use)
Yeah, I've actually been to a homeopathic doctor before, and while there's quite a strong chance that it's riding entirely on the back of the placebo effect, it's nice enough.
Wow, I just realized that my afternoon medication is Dexedrine.
I never bothered to look at the label. 
(Wow, I've commented a lot, sorry for spamming your post Tom, but I blame, ironically enough, my lack of medication… 
)
Brilliant idea! You should definitely get a PO box, Tom.
“When there is no cure to be found, a little blind faith never hurt anyone” … I think someone said that… maybe… or maybe it was just my scrambly brain…
Homeopathics are good, although I think most of the reason they work on me is the placebo effect. Even so, mind over matter, my friend. Even if it doesn't feel that way… believe me, I feel your pain. I have some depression issues, and on bad days instead of feeling sad I feel absolutely nothing at all. I act like a machine, going through all the motions of daily life without actually living it. And that's the worst feeling of all, isn't it? Absolute nothingness. Just keep on going, and things always feel better in the end… and then, without our flaws, who are we anyway? You put it best- “your imperfections make you beautiful.” So all we have to do is learn to love them.
@eMiKo GrAyCe @hexachordal @Fiona
Hey, whatever works, right? (:
Thanks for the support!
Yes, i agree on the PO box idea ^_^ I would definitely send you things.
Infinite Jest is a great book.
Hurry up and get a P.O. box really quickly so I can send you a Valentine, on time!
Hey Tom, feel better, okay? If I said i knew exactly what you're feeling like, i think i would be lying. I know what it's like to be depressed (believe me, i really know), but i'm not certain i know what it's like to feel nothing at all, although i have an idea. However, i do know what it's like to have ADHD. I was diagnosed in 4th grade, although judging by my academic performance, it was probably at work long before that. I know it's hard, and frustrating to not be able to focus on what you want to get done. Today went roughly like this: I should get my math work done- but wait! i need to check facebook real quick, oh and youtube, and google reader, and i really should write to my friend, and christ, i really oughta look at that thing my friend emailed to me, or i'll forget and oh my god, John Green's live on BlogTV (or what is it, livestream, now?), i can't see this later, so i have to watch this NOW! Oh shit, it's dinnertime…and before you know it I'm too tired to do anything useful with myself, and there's always that one last thing that i “should” get done. Tom, just know that you're brilliant and that everyone here loves you and one day, when you become big and famous, we'll all be proud to say “Hey, i was listening to that kid when he was still on youtube,” and “Hey, i remember when he released his second album ever (or maybe even the first for some people here)” Tom you have amazing talent, and it's going to get you far some day. Untili then, don't worry, i don't work quite right either, but it's okay.
Hope you feel better soon. You certainly make me feel good when I listen to your music. If I knew your address I'd probably show my appreciation somehow. Lots of love frpm Pennsylvania,USA.
If I could send you flowers without them dying on the plane journey to England, then I would.
As for now, take these. *passes over a virtual bouquet of sunflowers*
…*hopes you aren't allergic to them* …
*sends love*
Hang in there Tom
Your music has helped me through bouts of depression many times. I wish I could do something to help you with this.
Your imperfections make you beautiful.
Love from California,
Nic
You remind me of my dream character. I'm writing a novel, and my main character is very philosophical like you. He will say things that make you have to sort out what it means after he says them. He is also very lovely. He is unlike anybody my other main character (and me) had ever seen. Hopefully I will find someone like my Nighthawk (my main character) and you. : )
Keep being amazing, and feel better!
With Love,
Bella
tom, I think I told you before, if we didnt know sadness, misery and failure, happiness and success, wouldnt seem so great. it our lows that make us feel so fortunate when we have our highs. and boy oh boy i been there more times then i care to mention. But you do have sooooo many who love you. and you made that happen, somtimes with out even trying. In the famous words of the Wizard of Oz, ” A heart is not measured by how much it loves……but by how much it it loved by others”
I knew SOMEBODY would get the reference, you beautiful human being.
I sometimes wonder if there's someone on this planet who is physically the perfect human being, having average dimensions, flawless skin, no diseases, sicknesses or illnesses (are there more words for this?) whatsoever and more of those qualities.
I daren't say whether I believe this person exist. Which gender would it have? Would they be happy? Would they brag about it?
Sometimes I think I think too much, or I don't.
I could be wrong, but I beliivvee there is already a PO box? I seem to remember seeing an address for it on the confirmation email when I signed up to his newsletter. Although not sure if it still gets checked…?
I'm lucky enough to not know what this feels like, but it is both inspiring and comforting to see that even the people I look up to most in life have flaws. The important thing is not that you have this problem, but that you've been able to overcome it and produce some of the most beatuiful, profound and moving things I've ever experienced.
And having read the comments, YES get a PO box ASAP
Well I'm glad your feeling better. (Or at least you were in the last paragraph. I have no way of telling how you are felling at this precise moment.) I wish I had the money to send you something nice, but I can send you this: love in the form of a blog comment. Cheer up.
Is this:
PO Box 344, Tadworth, Surrey KT20 9DL, UNITED KINGDOM
Your PO box? It was on the “Thanks for subscribing”-mail.
Medication is blunter than my grandmother when telling my grandfather what Oreos are doing to his figure. They've got me on Lamotrigine, Melatonin (though it's supposed to be helping me sleep, all it really does is make my eyes sort of hurt and my essays stupid), an anti-psychotic that not even my science teacher could spell, and regular viewings of Monty Python. So far the Spanish Inquisition and their Comfy Chair has helped the most (which is slightly worrying, seeing as I'm Jewish.)
Flowers are, in the long run, pretty, happy things. I'm happy for your temporary happiness, though unhappy that the happiness is only temporary. If you live in London, I'd happily (noticing a theme?) send you muffins or cookies, because housewife-ish-ness runs in the family.
On a more/less serious note, I'm looking forward to the Upload Tour and may possibly be dragging everyone I know there with me (not including my grandmother). I think Painfully Mainstream actually turned my iPod into a sentient being with its beauty. Applause is in order. I'll post it as soon as I can.
By the way, that month that just went by passed really fast for me. Made a big ol' whooshing sound while I was typing. Maybe I fell asleep at my keyboard, maybe I had one too many Hula Hoops and my fingers lost track of anything they were doing, too caught up in their salty, hoopy dance.
Maybe I didn't notice that this was posted a month ago. Either way, none of it really matters. I'm just clearing up that little most likely unnoticed and unread confusion on my part. You don't care and, really, neither do (should) I.
I'm adding to my foolishness right now… my selfish, 'look at me, I'm writing about myself' comment. God damn it.
I blame god (my therapist) for everything.
I clicked 'like' mostly for the last line. even if it kind of frightens me.
…so if your/anyone's therapist is a woman, is god a woman?
*both my mother and her husband are shrinks.
boy oh boy has teenagerhood been fun o_o
This is really sweet. It really gets through to me, I can;t understand your syndrome or disorder, your story is so different to me, I mean my memories are fairly clear from my childhood clear, too clearly, finishing my homework just in time to go to be and going to a stream of psychiatrists who wanted to hurry up and diagnose me only to keep telling each other they were wrong.
I agree with you, very much, on the sentiment that a little token of happiness will go further than any chemical compound will. I've been dealing with something possibly similar seeming, dubbed by someone I've confided in to be 'Depersonalization Disorder'. Lengthy depression, memory loss of almost the entirety of my 8th grade year, post-traumatic stress symptoms, sometimes sudden and frantic questioning of my reality. The way I see myself and my surroundings as I think, (with the occasional of being perfectly alone and sitting still) is an image as though I were standing behind and slightly above myself watching me, with an active internal monologue. I've never known whether that was a fairly normal way of thinking, or if that was a sign of insanity complete with a voice in my head. I regularly experience the feeling of total emotional separation from my surroundings, as though all ability to experience emotion disappears, the longest being an entire week. Like being a robot that's terrified of being a robot and wants desperately to feel something. After confiding this feeling to a friend, I was surprised when he straight out told me I was crazy and I needed to be put on medication.
My brother is a cognitive scientist, and he knows much more about behavioral medication than most psychiatrists, and he's explained to me a lot recently about how little is truly understood about these medications. I'm an American, and I don't know whether it's the same in Britain, but here minds have become business, and it honestly feels like to a degree, this focus on neurosis has bred them. I personally have never seen a therapist, so I'm not quite one to judge, but from what I've learned, it seems that mainly what they do is give you diagnosis and prescriptions that make people leave feeling much more diseased than when they went in. “Picky Eating” was considered as a psychological illness for the new DSM.
I believe in such a thing as neural diversity. Minds are infinitely, beautifully complex, as are troubles and differences. There cannot be a model of a perfectly healthy mind, and if one was attempted, it would be disastrous to try to force every brain into that model. Society itself is ill, so minds even must become slightly ill in a sense just to survive within it. Without differences between people, there would be no art, no evolution, and no beauty. I hope you'll be able to feel better, because though I don't think a difference such as yours should be called illness or defect, that doesn't make it any less painful. I think you're right, though, in the idea of trying to feel better not through medicating your brain's functions, but looking for more natural, specialized and meticulous cures, like friendship and introspection and epiphany and art and living in general. I guess, though, it's really not my place to suggest to someone I don't even know that they maybe shouldn't take behavioral medication. I've gotten very close to it myself, and often I internally debate whether or not it would be right to go on medication. I've never taken anything, so I really can't say I even know at all what it does to the mind. This is a little weird, leaving such a personal and lengthy message in a comment to semi-celebrity's blog. You get a lot of these and probably very few this long, so you may not even have read down this far. I'm hardly sixteen, so I really can't say I know as much as I act like I think I do on a subject as complicated and personal as the human mind, but I've watched your videos and listened to your music for two years and have been very effected by your music and art in general, especially watching it evolve into the level of amazing beauty and complexity it's reached now has been sort of inspiring. You are an incredible musician and seemingly an incredible person in general, and I believe probably, if not for the differences in how your mind works, it never would have been compelled or able to create such wonderful things, or be so interesting in general, or be the sort of person that so many people would want to be friends with or send flowers to. It's no one's place to say how you're supposed to work, but you work in a way that's unique and contributes a lot of amazing stuff to the world.
Aura, your response is extremely insightful for someone so young. (Not that I'm much older- I'm almost 22, and also from the US.) But I can relate completely. I too have been suffering from a quite sudden onset of depersonalization that began during this past summer. The whole feeling like a robot thing- wanting to just be able to FEEL something genuine again- ditto. Your friend that told you that you're crazy? They're an idiot. Don't listen to them. Because someone who has never experienced it simply cannot understand. We can try to understand other peoples' minds, but in the end, there are only a handful of true souls we can properly connect with. And, for me, that's what life is about. I used to be an incredibly carefree person, just a year ago, and now, due to some unfortunate stressful circumstances, I'm fighting to get that carefree attitude back. I'm on a very mild anti-depressant (Lexapro), but I'm practically about to beg my doctor to let me go off of it. I'd rather try the therapy thing, and just surrounding myself with people who I know care about me.
I am also now completely convinced that people with this illness are not only obsessive-compulsive thinkers, but are both 1) highly intelligent to a fault, and 2) overtly and excessively creative in their own personal ways. I've also begun to wonder these days whether I've always had this feeling of emptiness hidden away inside of me, waiting to come out. But then again, it's not good to dwell. (Although, I'm sure you and I, and maybe Tom, are experts in the art of “dwelling”.) Nonetheless, you touch upon the truth. Artists are the reason for the beauty in this world. I wouldn't be surprised to find that Michelangelo, Caravaggio, and Jackson Pollock were all depersonalized manic depressives (if that exists, I don't know.) And since finding his music and other expressions of artwork this month, Tom's creativity has helped me too. To understand myself and others, and to give me hope.
I do hope he reads these comments. Because the key concept to overcoming our feelings of emptiness is to flat out realize we are NOT alone. Anyone who's anyone who “creates” and who's struggled to live a meaningful life knows what it means to hurt and to still persist. Because to persist in the face of pain is to know happiness and the beauty of being human.
Gee. I hope that I didn't get too personal either. haha I'm just so glad to have found some “like minds” on here.
Though my situation is unique to yours, I can comprehend completely. I know that this entry was posted a while ago and that I don't know you besides what you choose to present of yourself on the web, but your writing still very much spoke to me. As always, hang in there, good sir. Your talents do the world more good than you could ever imagine.
“I feel cold and empty as I write this. I feel a sort of detachment that isn’t sadness, necessarily – but it’s on the same level as sadness. The drugs have tried to fix whatever’s wrong in my brain, and they have missed. They’ve hit me in a place I’m not sure I entirely understand even though I’m living through it, and if you were to ask me how I feel, I’d say I don’t know. If you asked me what I want to do, I’d say I don’t know either. I’m blank right now. There’s nothing inside me at all.”
i definitely know what that feels like. and it's not fun. i hate it, actually. i've been taking dexedrine since i was 15 (i'm 19 now). wow, i didn't even realize it had been that long. that is crazy. anyway i've been taking it for ADD but i tried once last fall to go off of it and i'm trying again now. usually i get on okay without it, but sometimes if i have a lot of schoolwork to do i take it. i just don't want to have to be medicated for the rest of my life, you know? anywho, i know you wrote this ages ago, but i just wanted to say that it's good to know i'm not the only one who feels this way sometimes.
I know this was posted about a year ago (I've been reading all your blogs from ages ago because I haven't known about you for very long), but I felt compelled to say something. Hope it doesn't bore you. You will probably never read this anyway cos the blog's so old, but I'm posting it more for my benefit anyway.
I've always been creative. I've been told I'm very good at drawing and writing, although I can often only see flaws in what I do. Being thirteen, I'm still stuck in school (Middle School is the worst place you can imagine), and I am a level or two higher than average in English, and above-average for most things, so I have nothing much to complain about in most people's eyes, and usually not in mine either. But I am different to everyone I know. I write poems in my spare time, because, in many cases, I feel that if I don't write them I will most likely explode. I re-read them later on, and am embarrassed at what I've written- soppy, depressing- the only thing I can see that's good about them is the writing itself- the form of it; generally what my English teacher would look for.
I'll cut to the point because if you are reading this you will be bored by now. You are the most inspiring person I know of. Your songs are not only technically perfect, but also slightly imperfect in a perfect way- that sentence probably only made sense to me. What I mean is that the simplicity of it- the ukulele and singing, or the piano, combined with the semi-complicated notes and key-changes and stuff (I'm not a musician!) and the raw emotion behind all the songs, and the powerful lyrics that make me laugh and cry at the same time- it all amounts to something so intense and powerful, yet so light-hearted and innocent that I am often moved to tears (not in front of other people though!).
The past few months have been hard (don't judge me- I know I'm thirteen therefore that sounded weird, but I'm weird so it doesn't matter), but listening to your music and reading your blogs and poems have stopped me from going completely insane. THANK YOU.
This blog made me think mostly of the fact that you, like me, like everyone, are a normal human being, with normal problems and troubles, but also with an abnormal talent for expressing yourself, and creating pure beauty with hardly any effort. The paragraph:
“I feel cold and empty as I write this. I feel a sort of detachment that isn’t sadness, necessarily – but it’s on the same level as sadness. The drugs have tried to fix whatever’s wrong in my brain, and they have missed. They’ve hit me in a place I’m not sure I entirely understand even though I’m living through it, and if you were to ask me how I feel, I’d say I don’t know. If you asked me what I want to do, I’d say I don’t know either. I’m blank right now. There’s nothing inside me at all.”
Is a perfect example of what I'm talking about, and also reminded me of myself- I often feel completely emotionless, but also completely overrun with emotion- I know that's not completely what you meant, but it still made me feel like I wasn't alone.
You (and your blue hair) are amazing.
Sorry for the ridiculously long comment to someone I've never even met (but am in awe of all the same)- I know you don't care, for good reason, much about the thoughts of a weird thirteen-year-old girl, but I just had to comment.