Depression is…

Depression is the feeling you get when nothing works, everything sucks, and there’s no point in going on.

Depression is not a mood swing, nor a bad day.

Depression is the rock that sits in your brain deciding how you should respond to things.

Depression is the feeling that you’re never good enough, smart enough, sexy enough, enough enough.

Depression is the voice that says you’ll never have enough money.

Depression sticks to you like so many leeches, absorbing all of the fun and joy in life.

Depression is what tells you people are better off without you.

Depression is writing with tears in your eyes and lumps in your throat.
(Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash)

Depression is something I never understood. I never saw myself as depressed. I was a grumpy curmudgeon, a snarky smart ass, and an all-around jerk.

Depression is right here, right now.

Depression is what tells you that you’ll never be happy.

Depression is what saps the spirit and makes it hard to be creative.

Depression is what makes you fantasize about hanging yourself from a lamp post like Gerard de Nerval.

Depression is Nerval’s pet lobster, forcing you to justify to everyone why it’s your pet of choice and it’s totally sensible to lead it around on the streets at the end of a blue ribbon.

Depression is writing out what depression is and feeling it all build up inside of you.

Depression is knowing when to divert your thoughts to more positive, proactive, or functional thinking.

Depression is when that doesn’t always work.

Depression lies.

Depression lies convincingly.

Depressions lies so well you think it’s all true & accurate.

Depression makes anything and everything seems shitty. Sure, you’ll have days where everything’s great, children smile at you, dogs flock to you, your breath is minty fresh, and there’s a lightness in your step. But depression is there waiting for that one stray thought, the one that’s slower or different from the rest of the herd, so it can bore its teeth into you.

Depression is being lonely in a crowd of friends.

Depression is not wanting to make a huge fuss because you feel like an attention whore.

Depression is just playing the role that you think other people expect of you.

Depression is about not burdening your friends and loved ones with your problems.

Depression is wanting to talk to someone but knowing that you’ll cry.

Depression is just wishing someone would hug you right now.

Depression is feeling like you’re being ignored, even by those who say they love you.

Depression is saying “those who say they love you”.

Depression is realizing that it will probably kill you one day. Perhaps not by suicide but by the effects that it has on your body, your brain, your decisions, your relationships.

Depression is writing with tears in your eyes and lumps in your throat.

Depression is telling you to quit because shit has gone on long enough.

Depression is always there waiting for you.

Depression is the worst thing you can imagine.

Depression is all of this and more.

That’s what depression is.

Advertisements

Returning to the Quiet Chair

These last few months have been pretty tumultuous. A lot has gone on, from starting stand up to a new relationship to trying to make it as a freelancer… lots of new experiences and things, mostly high but some lows.

Then the depression came back. For a month or so, I’ve not felt quite right. As best as I can guess, since money is always a concern, I’m constantly tossing figures in my head trying to figure out how to make money so I can cover my bills. Other things, however, like groceries, paying off debts, those have to be in the “That’d Be Nice” pile sometimes. Now, on top of freelancing and other things, I’m looking for a steady job (or a W2 job, as the lady says). The obvious thing to note here is that, in most cases, I’m surviving but I don’t feel like I’m thriving. I started to notice a lot of agitation, coupled with the usual low self-esteem nostalgia that I have always experienced. I’ve been so sexy lately, let me tell you.

I’ve decided to go back into therapy. I realized that my depression and LSE began infecting my work and the stuff I enjoyed. I wasn’t editing my podcast. I wasn’t throwing myself into the creative process of writing or creating jokes. Add into the work I’ve been doing in making myself better mentally so that I don’t drive this incredible woman I have in my life away. I want this to be a healthy relationship, which means I’ve had to confront a lot of Bad Feelings. I’m still poring through them, reassuring myself that it’s not as bad as I think things are. I think maybe having a professional hand in things might keep me from being a weeping cauldron of emotions. If anything, my friends and loved ones would enjoy it.

Bus Stops Are Places, Too

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write anything creative. Even now, I’m typing, deleting, retyping, fretting over whether I start my sentences with too many vowels, and generally not feeling a huge vibe to write. Mayhaps, it’s just the creaking writing bones, the flabby muscles crying out myriad curses. All I know is, right now, generating even five sentences in this paragraph is a chore. There, I did it.

For the better part of a year, I think I’ve been dwindling intellectually, creatively, and spiritually. Most days, I just feel as if I’m a gear in a machine, one that serves no real useful purpose except in some sort of quirked out Rube Goldberg monstrosity. I think a Rube Goldberg Machine is a very fitting metaphor for society: perform a simple task but do it in such a inefficient, complicated, and baffling method that you’re just amused with the small job it accomplished. Well, you say as a bureaucratic twat cracks a knee up your nose, at least I got a demonstration of mechanics.

Consider for yourself. Agree? Disagree?

I’ve been in a depressive mood for almost two weeks. It’s the usual melange of feeling alienated, low energy, and no real drive to do much more than what I do most days, which is not much. I work, eat, internet, sleep, and that’s mostly it except for a standing Thursday invitation and the rare Saturday night out. So yeah, I’m in rut and that is a huge factor.

Also, let’s be honest,, since El DuCheeto took office, it’s been one nightmare after another. So Jerry Falwell’s son and a member of the Amway scam family are in charge of education? Fantastic! Privatize the Corporation for Public Broadcasting? Tier the Internet? Our lives becoming the mutant, bastardized incorporation of The Handmaid’s Tale, 1984, and Brave New World? Even if these are things that never come to fruition, the idea of living on this sort of knife edge can make anyone loony.

And I’ve been a card non-carrying member of the Loony Society since lunchtime. Take a seat and enjoy the performance art.

##

Note on the title: I apparently have taken the New Order method of naming posts. Enjoy!