Let's Talk: Depression

Every now and again, I like to take a moment to discuss something that directly affects me.  It might be a post a friend makes on Facebook, it might be a comment I hear on the street, it might be something in the news.

Or, it might be something that affects me directly.  There won't be a lot of humor in this post.  I'll try to keep things from getting too bad.




So, there was no blog post last Friday.  For that, I apologize.  I made a promise to keep these going, and for quite a while, I had.  Sure, there were hiccups here and there, and a few posts got posted late.  But, I always posted something.  Even if it was something simple like a recipe or just my opinion on something I saw, I tried to provide some kind of content.

And on Friday I failed.  I realize it probably isn't a big deal to a lot of people about there, but it is to me.

You know what's kind of funny?  This is my 100th post since I started this thing a long time ago.  It's not the 100th since I relaunched it this year, I'll do something special then, but huh.  A milestone.  Triple digits.  Sweet.

So, here's the story:

For the past week, I've had growing concerns involving stress with the family feeling overwhelmed with work around the house that needs doing (and taking longer than expected), pressure at work to resume getting the numbers the office wanted, and various other pressures.  But there was one thing simmering under the surface that was taking every small thing that happened and magnifying it times ten.

See, I suffer from chronic depression.  There's a chemical the brain produces that, in most people, keeps moods balanced and helps cope when small things happen.  My brain doesn't make enough of that chemical, which sometimes means that small things start a spiral downward that's hard to climb out of.

Combine that with so many things happening at once that it made my head spin, and on Friday I was, essentially, a total wreck.  It was by sheer force of will I kept from falling apart at my job, and when I got home I climbed into my bed and turned off all the lights.

Now, I want to clear up something.  Being depressed doesn't mean being sad.  I've been sad before, like when my grandparents died, or after losing any of the pets my family has owned, or when I had to move growing up and leave my friends behind.

Depression isn't that.  Depression is your mind essentially trying to crush your spirit from the inside out.  It's like having a voice in your head that constantly tries to strip you of any self-worth, identity, and value all the time.  It can occasionally go quiet, but it's constantly waiting for the first trip-up you have, at which point it calmly says "See?  You're worthless."

It's also the only sickness I know of that actively discourages you from treating it.  I've gone many years now without any kind of medicinal help.  At my lowest points, I'd consider starting again, but the depression would constantly twist my thoughts.  "You deserve this," it would whisper inside my head.  "What have you done that lets you deserve anything better?"  Or, it might go, "This will pass, and things will be like they were, don't worry, it's just a thing."  And when I wasn't low?  I'd convince myself I was doing better and could handle it.  Even when I was taking it, I'd have a really good stretch where nothing got me down, and I'd think "Man, I think I've got this beat.  I can stop taking these pills."  No.  Depression isn't the common cold, you don't take Nyquil for a few days and it just goes away.  Well, some times do, but those can be more situational depressions.  Mine is the Energizer Bunny of depression.

I've had many times where I've actually been able to recognize that what I'm feeling isn't how things really are, it's just the depression talking.  I've convinced myself before that I can outsmart depression, that all I need to do is think logically, and I can make the voice telling me negative things to be quiet.  Trust me, you can't.  You just stay in a deadlock with it until it either overpowers you or sinks back below the surface, taking all the stress you had with it, storing it up to use against you later.

It's crippled my ability to be social with people sometimes.  I've left parties (or completely avoided them to begin with) because my brain would convince me, "You don't belong there.  Look at them.  They enjoy having each other around.  You have to try so hard to think of things to say, you aren't like them.  They'd have just as much fun if you weren't there, if not more."  That last sentence is the dangerous one.  That's the one that lets you start to think that you have no value, that you're worthless.  After all, if your friends don't need you (or, as I believed in some groups for years, simply "put up" with having you around), then what do you have?  Would your family be better off if you weren't around?  Would anybody care if something bad happened to you, or would it just pass in a couple days and the universe would return to normal?

Now, I've hit a lot of low points where I was utterly convinced that the world would actually be improved if I had never been born.  I've been at points where, if something bad were to happen to me, I wouldn't really be afraid of it happening, but might simply accept it.  I've never, as far as I can remember, had actual suicidal thoughts where I wanted to act on the depression.  I've joked before that "my depression would be worse, but I'm so afraid of pain that fear trumps being morose."

"Well," I'd think, "I can't imagine ever cutting myself.  I mean, I've had paper cuts that really, really stung.  I cut my knee once sliding into third base thanks to a misplaced rock, and that hurt.  Cutting myself?  No thank you."

I'm not trying to make light of such things, I just know that sometimes it was fear, more than anything, that kept me together.

Now, let's talk a bit more about Friday.  Those of you who know me, you could probably tell I wasn't in a very good spot.  What you might not have known was that I was so stressed out, my brain was saying things that I had to keep pushing down in case everything fell out at once.  I had multiple moments where my eyes watered from trying to keep everything down, and on my break and lunch I had to just sit outside in my car and take deep breaths.  Now, it was a long day, and many people had brought in food as a potluck (I actually made lemon bars.  They didn't turn out very good, and that was just one more thing I was upset about.)  I didn't touch any of the food, not because I was trying to be a food snob (which I can be some times), or trying to be mean or standoffish.  I was actually shutting down to the world around me, and quite possibly subconsciously trying to push everyone away.  I didn't deserve any of the food other people had made.  Why?  Take your pick for reasons, I went through them all:

I didn't bring anything, and I didn't want to be a mooch.

The food was for people who actually contributed, and at that point I was struggling with learning a new client our team was working on.

It would mean getting up and leaving my desk, but I had to keep working, I had to get my numbers up.

Spring's coming, I need to watch what I eat.  (This one didn't come up often, but it did come up at least twice).

I timed a lunch that day so I wouldn't have to take part in a group activity, not because I didn't want to, but because I felt I didn't deserve to take part in it.  Why should I, of all people, get to have a moment of happiness when so much is going wrong?  Why should I get anything positive, when things aren't positive?  It'd be a lie, it would be selfish, it would be wrong for me to have any reason to smile that day.

Now, this isn't my looking for pity.  I simply know it's hard to understand what's happening inside someone else's brain if you, yourself, don't suffer from something similar.  I would never tell someone with a rare disease, "oh, man, I sympathize with you."  The worst sickness I ever had was I caught the flu in 1988 and it kept me on the couch for a week.  I simply can't connect on that level.

But for now, things are better.  I'm on some pretty good medication right now, and my mood since the weekend (as the medication takes effect, it can take a few weeks) has been good.  I still get moments that make me want to sigh and I hear that faint voice say "just give up," but it's nowhere near as loud.  There are still things that I think the depression has a firm hold of (there are any number of girls I wanted to ask out, but talked myself out of because I convinced myself that they'd be happier with a guy who was my exact opposite in every way).  But I take each day as it comes, and with the medication, I should be able to start reclaiming my life, one piece at a time.  I've started smiling more again.  I'm calmer when things around me get a bit crazy.  Little details don't bother me as much anymore.

I feel like I'm worth something.  Maybe not as much as others think of me, but I'm getting there.

And to those who commented and offered a boost, the support is appreciated.  Thank you, very much.