It’s a beautiful Thursday in Denver and I’ve given myself the day off. Cause I can. Freelance is rad.
I was sitting here thinking about what to do with myself and I remembered, “Hey! I have a blog!”
The problem, though, with having a blog and going for months without posting is trying to figure out what your first post back will be. Do you try and sum up all the things that have been going on? Do you try and explain your absence? Or do you just ignore your time away and post a picture of Corey Feldman saying, “Happy Thursday!”?
Eric says I don’t owe anyone any explanations. I should write about what I want to write about. And he’s right. But as it turns out, what I want to write about is what the crap was going on when I wasn’t here. So here we go.
First of all, let me say, I am doing fantastically (now) and am in no way looking for sympathy with what I am about to share.
Secondly, let me say, depression can suck a bag of dicks. It’s an evil, little, lurking bastard of an illness and it affects more people than you know. Myself included.
About 6 months ago, I found myself lying in bed for about the 5th day in a row because I couldn’t think of any good reasons to get up. I was insecure and anxious all the time. I wrote this:
Right before you left you said, “You’re stronger than this. You can beat this. Kick its ass.”
But that’s the thing. I’m not actually stronger than “this”. That’s the problem. My entire life, I’ve been telling myself I’m stronger than “it”. I carry on. Tell myself I can beat “it”, I can “Kick ‘its’ ass.” I’m tough. I can handle “it”. I put one foot in front of the other. I take a shower, I eat breakfast, I go to work, I try new things.
It wasn’t really a wild hair that brought me to Denver. I say that because then it sounds whimsical and fun. Truth is, I was tired of feeling sad all the time. I thought a new location would solve all my problems.
Moving worked for awhile. Until it didn’t. Those same old haunts started creeping up again. Insecurities, anxieties, existential angst. All to the point of paralyzation. I called in sick to work. I forgot to eat. I slept 16 hours a day and stayed in bed for the other 8. And then I found roller derby. And I threw my whole self into it. That kept me distracted for awhile. But there’s not any one thing that can entirely sustain a person for very long.
I started slipping again. And here we are. I’m at about as low as I’ve ever been and I’m tired. I’m tired of the cycle. I’m tired of fighting. This “thing” and I have gone toe to toe and come out even. I could do like I’ve always done and put one foot in front of the other, take a shower, eat breakfast. I could try another new thing and hope that it sparked some sort of meaning or passion. And maybe it would. And maybe that would sustain me for a bit. But after awhile I’d end up right back here- a withered, broken, shadow of a person.
So that’s the thing. I’m not stronger than what “this” is. I’m not that tough and I can’t handle “it”. Not on my own. But making that realization and acting on it are different things. Admitting that I don’t want to do this alone anymore, that I want and need help in breaking the cycle… that’s what has brought me to this lowest of lows. I feel weak and defeated, like I’ve given up. I want to be strong enough to beat this on my own. I hate myself for needing help.
This “thing” knows that. “It” mocks me. “It” plays with my confidences and turns them against me. “It” tells me that I’m smart. Just as smart as some dumb therapist. What do they know that I don’t? “It” tells me that I am strong. I’m self-reliant. I take care of myself. Asking for help is admitting defeat and I’m no quitter. “It” tells me to get up and fight some more. Maybe this time I’ll win, “it” smirks.
So what do you do about a “thing” like that? What do you do when what you’ve always considered to be your greatest strengths have become your greatest weaknesses? When all your confidence is lying in a puddle on the floor, how do find the courage to overcome your strengths?
Yeah, I was in bad way. And maybe a bit dramatic, if we’re being honest. But that’s what depression does. Fucker.
I found myself googling, “Am I depressed?”
The internet responded with a resounding,
“YES, YOU DUMMY! LOOK AT WHAT YOU JUST GOOGLED. OF COURSE YOU ARE DEPRESSED!”
Mean ‘ole internet.
But it was right. And I knew it. And I finally found the courage to get over myself and get the help and support I so desperately needed. And today, I feel like a different person. One who is excited about getting up in the morning. One who is confident and proud. One who is finally realizing what it means to be “happy”. And one who is excited to start blogging again.
So, yeah. That’s what’s been going on. I promise my next post will be more fun and with less of the feeling crap.
Until then, here’s a picture of Corey Feldman wishing you a Happy Thursday: