I am NOT currently depressed. I'm in a good place. Please don't worry :-) My episodes generally last 2-4 months. I know them well, I usually know what triggers them, how to get through them, how it feels to go into/ come out of a depressive funk and I try hard to (generally) keep it under control.
I have debated for a long time if or how I should talk about this. I've decided to just do it. You don't have to read it :-)
These are simply my thoughts about my view of depression/ anxiety... but I try to find humor in everything. I am not making light of a very serious issue. This is how I cope (along with a bevy of other things like exercising for hours, lots of music, meditation, crying, going batshit crazy insane and listing 2 things to get done each day).
My future posts will be more light-hearted... I'll write about sunshine and roses soon! I'm actually having a huge hair dilemma that I'm sure you all want to know about...
This is about spending just a few minutes in my little world... a very strange place to be indeed.
Depression is, well, depressing. Depression sucks. Depression is serious. Depression is ridiculous and stupid. I really have a good time laughing about how stupid it is with a select few who struggle with it and understand it. It is NOT funny, but it really kind of is. It is so horrible and debilitating that I simply must find the humor in it. I have to say that probably the best part of having these challenges is finding the people with whom you can laugh about them. Those people are absolutely priceless.
I describe it like sitting at the bottom of a well. You know there is a way out but you only see the smooth sides of the well with no footholds. No rope. No way to get out. It's just you. Sitting at the bottom of the well with a racetrack of relentless thoughts driving you absolutely insane. Sometimes I hop on the racetrack just to see how fast I can go. That generally ends badly. But so does trying to apply the brakes on the racetrack. You just sort of settle into going round and round until the track develops a crack and you can start to break it apart and free yourself. The awesome part is that new demons join old demons that I thought I killed off long ago for a grand ol' party in my head.
Epic Battle: Depression.
(How it goes in my head) Well, hello there my old/new foe! So we meet again! I put my hand into my bag of tricks and pull out... a q-tip for a sword and a cotton ball for a shield.
Ho ho! I laugh. I'll see your q-tip and cotton ball and raise you (reaches into bag again and dramatically pulls out...) a plastic straw!!!
Seriously?!? A freaking straw? My lung capacity can't handle killing a demon with a straw. Blow darts? Twist and snap? That's supposed to work? GodDAMNit. Why can't I EVER pull out an actual sword? Fuck. Fine then. I'll battle your dumb ass with a straw, a cotton ball and a q-tip. Seriously. How do I get myself into these messes? And my demons just smile... and the dangerous dance begins.
And sometimes, when I am absolutely exhausted, beaten down and the darkness seems overwhelming, a friend tosses me.... a butter knife!!! And yet it's so much better than my current arsenal. I accept the butter knife, thank my friend (who wishes they had more to offer than a butter knife), and I set to work slowly forcing the demons to retreat back into the shadows.
That is sort of what depression is like. For me anyway. I imagine it's an epic battle with weapons that are ridiculously inferior (spaghetti noodles, ballpoint pens, can openers, etc). I know I'm weird. And yet somehow I still prevail :-D I get so tired of fighting my demons that I ask them if I can just love them because it would be SO much easier. But their response is always the same: "You know what will happen if you let us into your heart." And I know.
But the allure is there... the promise of no more struggle, no more exhaustion. No more anything. I continue to fight because I love life and because I have come out the other side time and time again. The weapons at my disposal are always changing. People throw me the weirdest shit (a herring! hehehe) but I'm so grateful for all of it and my tactics are evolving over the years. I'm getting more creative and more cunning, but so are the demons. I always worry about falling in love with the darkness. It's challenging to accept my dark side without allowing it to consume me.
Depression is not understood by so many. Depression is not just "being sad." Depression is not feeling "down in the dumps." Depression is not having a bad day. Or a bad week. Depression is no hope. No hope. J.K. Rowling's depression Dementors sucking out your life force no hope. Depression is anxiety, panic, and fear. Depression is guilt. Guilt that you can't like the positive parts of your life, guilt that your stupid problems are taking over your mind, guilt that you can't understand these feelings, guilt that you can't just "get over it." Guilt that your funk is bringing down and affecting the people around you.
It's being backed into a corner (or the bottom of a well) with no way out. It's doubting that you're strong enough to beat it because you just can't seem to beat it. It's not knowing when (if?) it will end so you can see light again... months? years? never? It's not having the strength or willpower to accomplish anything. You feel paralyzed and insane all at once. Some people say they feel numb during depression. I definitely do, but I'm also more sensitive when I'm depressed than I am during the other times of my life. I feel like an emotional powder keg about to explode. That's the anxiety. Take meds if you need to take meds. Meds can help a lot.
I do NOT suffer from depression. Let me be very clear. I struggle with depression. Depression does not have control over me (although it can be very convincing). If someone tells you they suffer from depression you should gently remind them that they STRUGGLE with it. They BATTLE it. It is a foe to be vanquished. Do not let them think it has power over them. Those words mean something. They matter.
Somehow I'm still here... that should give you some hope. Everything has made me who I am... and I'm learning to really like her. To be proud of her. To not be ashamed of her. Even if I'm scarred from battle, and bloody as all hell, and bruised, and emotionally battered, and completely loco en mi cabeza as a result. I'm still here. And you are too! If you battle demons and you're as beat up as I am, know that you are winning because you're fighting. You are one hell of a warrior, especially if you do battle with a q-tip and a cotton ball. I'm proud of you because I know that it's a horrible, epic battle that seems so stupid. Don't feel guilty or ashamed about it. Just keep fighting. Who knows why these feelings overtake us sometimes? I don't know. But know that I'm ALWAYS here to listen. And if I can, I will gladly toss you my butter knife :-)
This post is dedicated to everyone who lost the battle against their demons. I have no words... I've known many. Even knowing one is too many.
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