Ok, I’ve wanted to do this one for a while now, but other things got in the way. Throw in having to move all of our web stuff over to a new host and playing in MySQL for a couple hours and by the time I am able to actually get to something, it has passed me by. I’m hoping I can take some sort of brain laxative on this one and force it out though.
I’ve really had a lot of thoughts and feelings on depression and anxiety. For one, I’ve been ‘suffering’ from depression for months now, maybe even a year. It’s not something I’m proud of. You won’t see me hopping from rooftop to rooftop, sliding down the chimney of unsuspecting families with my neo-70’s dance crew and doing a laser light show number where I proclaim that I am depressed. I’m not ashamed either, though.
The fact of the matter is that it is, well, was it is. Too much is to handle? I’m only getting started. I don’t know if it really is a modern phenomenon, or a more culturally prevalent one for us (speaking as current day Americans) to suffer from depression in almost cyclical phases of our lives, but people would seem to lead you to think that. I, for one, almost suspect that we are just a society that has such an attitude and way of handling things that it is more likely for these phases to surface and so on, but I’m not making any sort of official claim on that, I’m familiar with research on these things that would probably argue me to the core of the Earth. What I’m getting at though, is that this is something I personally have gotten used to. I don’t spend most of my life battling depression or anything, but occasionally things in my life orbit around in a way that leads to things aligning in a manner that leads to me ending up depressed– assuming these eclipses last long enough. In that regard, I’m prepared for these seasons to fall upon me, and the time experienced through the previous ones are just experiences I use to make the next dark age a more positive thing– something that I can grow more out of.
I guess that would have to be my first thought on all of it. It’s like there is this idea that falling into any level of depression is something to be avoided at all costs; like lava or spikes in any video game– game over. At least, I know I’ve fallen under that line of thinking before, holding some sort of mentality that I’m too tough to be sad over nothing, or that my life is too good to always be down, or that I don’t want people to think there is something wrong with me. Life just isn’t that simple, though. And before I go any further, I am not saying that cases of severe chronic depression isn’t something serious and often requires some form of council and even medication, but this is not what I’m talking about at all, I’m just talking about the human experience. I fall in and out of communication with a lot of my close friends, so sometimes it is hard to keep up, but even given the statistical drop offs, a number of my good friends have gone through similar down periods in recent months. I can’t say that I’ve seen a notably different story with any of them. Just getting to the point where I know they are depressed takes me practically beating it out of them sometimes, or bluntly saying to them, “Hey, so I guess I’ve been pretty depressed these days…,” and I can’t imagine what its like for the lesser classes of friends and colleagues. This paragraph has been drivel thus far, but it necessitates a question that I’ve often tried to work out: why do we live under such conditions in almost a level of secrecy?
Is it because we don’t want people to think there is something wrong with us? Or maybe even be worried? Or is it more like we don’t want people to not care? In the many elements of truth, I almost think that the prospect of people not caring, getting fed up with some a miserable, pitiful, helpless creature and distancing their lives as far away as possible from the dysfunctional. And maybe this isn’t even the case, but from the view of ‘the dysfunctional’ I think this is the more likely angle of perception.
There are further possibilities that come into play. Do we want to avoid being that one person who just wallows and virtually cries out to the world as much as possible, as if to come off as some attention whoring brat who just wants people to spend their time and energy on them? Do we just want to avoid being perceived as that, even if it is the antithesis of the truth? Or maybe, do we even secretly want that kind of attention without having to work for it, even if we would never admit it to ourselves? I think in this case, I am bordering a lot on common questions that tend to go through the minds of an average person, but I’d think that if you’re depressed, the intensity of this is even greater. I should say this right now, the first time I ever really went through some real level of depression (I was 18 or 19, though you could make a case for me at 14-15, but that was different, I believe) I was this stereotypical case. I had this mindset that I wanted people to know I was depressed because people should care, hell, it might even be their fault I am. Misery loves company, right? I completely shut myself down. I had no drive to do anything, the only thing that seemed to feel good was the lay down.. by myself.. in my room.. preferably in the dark and feel sad, actually more like pitiful. I felt pitiful so I could pity myself. Someone had to do it right?
I have my days still, those days where you don’t even think a rock would let you hide under it. Even so, I guess that would be a lot of what I learned the most in that first bout with depression. People can think whatever they like, but you have to take care of yourself first. You know this analogy, if the plane is going down, put on your oxygen mask before you think about anybody else. I guess that is hard when you’re having to go out and be, you know, a person, especially on those really low days. It’s like being bubbled up with anxiety and the slightest movement or outside pressure and the whole thing just gets expulsed out in this big sinewy mess of guts and rotted feelings. To not care what anybody might think about you, even if it is in the most indirect, irrelevant manner is a gift that is reserved for savants and the like, and to be expected to win that battle of man vs. self in a state of anxiety-filled depression probably lead to the most laughable point spread since Alabama played newly christened Georgia State.
Anyway, at least I’m not sheepish about it, even if I don’t have the rest of it down quite right yet. That is the interesting thing about customs. Why do we always ask how people are doing as a formality, it basically sends the message that we don’t care. When I’m really not alright, at the least I try to say, “You don’t want me to answer that,” almost as a way of politely saying that I’m doing pretty crappy. I know I can’t go around door-to-door and let everyone know this but, if you spend the time to read this you can learn this about me:
If I ask how you are doing, I really want to know. So if you are really intending on getting into a conversation with me, then answer it as extensively as you like. I guess it is another cultural thing that I’m sick of. Well, actually, formal anything comes off as a waste of time to me, and time is something we’re always losing.
Finally circling things back fully to myself, it is funny how things work out. After spending about 3 years with the girl of my dreams, and the dream to end all dreams, and now having that part of my life filled with a huge void, you’d think I’d be even more down. The funny thing is, I think I’ve actually gained a lot of altitude instead. Not because that removal from each others life isn’t something that makes me really sad, but all the other things that got me down seem to be losing their stranglehold on me. Though on the days where it all brings me down, well yeah, those can be rough, but so can any other day, if things decide to favor the tragic.
So yeah, I don’t mind saying it again, I’m depressed. I have been under this spell for quite a while now, but a long time ago I realized that there is no good done letting that affect the rest of my life. So you will likely see me smiling or laughing, or at least trying to have a good time, or just doing stuff and never have any idea how I feel in the larger scope of things, because you know what? The two don’t necessarily have to be partners. Life is beautiful, even when its all grays.
Hmm, I don’t know if any mental laxative could have gotten that out well, but at least its out of my system.