A few words on depression
Good morning, Barflies.
Well, I had a hell of a weekend.
I woke up Saturday, intending to go into work late. But I couldn't even manage that. The black cloud had me in its sights, and I just couldn't get going. Oh, I called with some excuse of throwing up. (I actually did throw up.) But the real reason was depression.
The most apt description of depression I've ever seen is how the great American author William Styron described its tangibility: a darkness visible. This phrase captures both its heft and its amorphous nature. What does "a darkness visible" mean? I can't say. But it encapsulates how I feel when the black cloud takes me. This enveloping darkness, this pervading hopelessness, this incessant sense of worthlessness.
I'm going to relate what I went through on Saturday; not because I want sympathy, but because I want you to know what an episode like this feels like.
I had many dark thoughts. Many. To the point where I imagined what suicide would be. Where I imagined what effect my suicide would have on those I love and cherish.
Would I ever go through with these designs? I don't think so. I'd hope not. But Saturday I was lost in a slough of despond. I didn't see the end, necessarily, but I was stuck in the quicksand of my mind. I was imagining dark outcomes. I was seeing the worst possibilities. The guilt I felt for calling out was raging inside me. You can take the boy out of the Catholic Church, but you can't take the Church out of the boy. (Another reason I abjure organized religion, and its focus on guilt and shame.)
I did a few things yesterday. I began journaling, so that I can write my way out of my black cloud. I find writing is my solace. Most, if not all, of my writing for the past year has been for the blog. And while I wouldn't give it up for anything, such is my devotion to this community, it doesn't allow for the self-reflection I need. The unexamined life is one not worth living, and I have not examined my life in any meaningful way for a long time. I find that journaling, and exposing myself to myself, is a balm. I will also talk to my psychiatrist who manages my stammering medication to see if we can add something else for my moods. I'm too young and have too many things to do to make a quick, untimely exit.
No doubt the stresses I face at work due to short staffing aren't helping me in the slightest. Our regional administrator sent an email a few weeks ago that if staff are feeling overwhelmed they should be aware of the mental health services available to county employees. I laughed bitterly. Get us staff, and we won't be stressed. But, now, after Saturday, I realize I may have to avail myself of those services. Not specifically due to work-related stress, but do to *waves hands* everything.
Everything. The world social and political situation doesn't help. I wish I could be one of the Lotus Eaters, and not care about what's going on in the world. But that's not how I was made. For whatever reason, the Universe created me to care about others. And with that comes the risk of what I suffer. But I can't allow others' pain to subsume me. How I manage this trick I haven't quite figured out. Every homeless man I see on the street wounds me. Every person in a desperate situation hurts me. And, to be honest, I wouldn't want it to be any other way. I don't want to be callous and unfeeling. I often have thought experiments where I wonder what kind of man I'd be if I were more uncaring, more cruel, more self-centered. The results are not ones I like. Better to be me, than to be not-me. But it's such a burden.
I often describe myself as a "rock". For this blog. For my friends and family. The one they can rely on. But many times I feel like gravel, ready to be blown away. I know that I can't be that lodestar every day. Some days I just need to be free from obligations. I need to be vulnerable, and not sorted out. And that's fine. That's human.
If you, like me, feel these things, don't avoid them. Don't shun them. Don't turn your eyes. Confront your feelings. Take them in. Own them. Take them into yourself and transform them. We live in troubled times, but this is our life, our one precious life in which we both suffer and exult. Bear the suffering. But know that there is, too, joy of wondrous proportions. When you can balance the two, you will find peace. Hopefully we can all join in this.
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