the d-word

I haven’t blogged about anything of significance for quite some time. Sure, I have a wedding-oriented Tumblr I update frequently, but I’ve found that medium isn’t as conducive for writing long posts or much at all, really. It’s like Twitter with even more instant gratification, if you can imagine such a thing, also known as the Land of Teenagers and GIFS. Which is cool, I like it for what it is, I just never felt inspired to write much there, even regarding my wedding.

Another reason I haven’t written anything in awhile is that I’ve been thinking. A lot. Too much? I don’t know. I could never focus on one thought long enough, my thoughts moved faster than I could write, so I didn’t bother.

The third thing is that I started/continued to suffer/I don’t know from depression. I never believed in depression before, I was one of those people who just thought depression was something Big Pharma made up so they could get more people to buy drugs. Either that or it was just losers looking for an excuse to wallow in self-pity, so one day they lobbied to make “moodiness” a disorder to get away with it.

Now, I haven’t been to a therapist or doctor and I haven’t read too many academic articles on the subject, but I’m pretty sure depression is a Thing. Whatever it is, it sucks, and it’s really hard to make go away. I should probably go to a therapist, but I’ve never really got up the courage, so I’m just writing here for now. Which also takes a bit of courage, I guess.

Actually, it takes a lot of courage. Allie Brosh probably gave the world the best glimpse into depression in her comic: Adventures in Depression. Go read it and then come back.

Okay, you good? You’ve read it? Great, let’s carry on.

Being depressed makes you hate yourself. Or one day you just hate yourself and then become depressed. Either way, it doesn’t make you want to do much, and when you do end up doing something, you are critical of yourself past the point of helpful critiquing. It’s not, “Man, I really fell short there – next time I’m going to learn from my mistakes and get better at it.” It’s “Holy fuck look at what a disaster this is why do you even try you stupid fuck you should probably never do this again everyone else can see how terrible you are they just feel sorry for you that’s the only reason you’re anywhere you are right now but probably not for long because you’re a fucking idiot.”

Now try hearing that inside your head multiple times a day. It’s pretty fun. Doesn’t do much to spur creativity though. Who would want to share a part of themselves with the world, be it through writing, painting, music, etc. when you might receive even more criticism than what you give yourself? When you’re convinced you know what people will think before they think it? It blots out your will to share your vision of life with others. You reject your ideas first because it hurts less than having someone else reject them. You create your own little fantasy land of ideas that never see the light of the day because you’re convinced they are worthless. You’re convinced that you are worthless, so how could your ideas have merit?

And at this point I realized that no doctor had diagnosed me, and I certainly did not enjoy being this way – in fact, I hated it and wanted so badly to be normal, to feel normal. So why couldn’t I snap out of it? Maybe depression is a Thing, was the conclusion I came to.

It’s hard to be depressed. It’s also hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed. It’s hard to date someone who’s depressed. It’s likely hard to be married to someone who’s depressed. There’s not much you can do to help someone who’s depressed except be. Just be there. I mean, I’m not quite speaking from the “other side” yet, but so far what’s helped immensely are just good friends and good people. Even if they don’t know it, they’ve helped by randomly inviting me out to coffee, events, chatting on Twitter, and just making me feel like a normal, valued individual and friend. And that’s another thing I’ve learned: Stop telling your depressed friend they’re special and start telling them they’re normal and that you value them, no matter what they’re going through. Maybe I shouldn’t speak on behalf of all depressed people, but I have a feeling they just won’t believe you when you try to dish out compliments, no matter how honest you are, to make them feel better. Also, what you shouldn’t do is downplay what they are going though. You might not understand it, they might not be the most fun to hang out with at this point in time, but please, just be.

I’m pretty tired of feeling like this, which is why I have decided to talk about it here. I know I’ve done nothing but set up limitations for myself, and I’m pretty tired of hating myself too. I hope to start writing again, sharing again and hopefully entering into a new era of creativity unbridled by fear, self doubt and inherited dogma. Creating gives me the illusion of control, so I’d like learn how to create some pretty neat shit one day.

And I guess that brings me to the final reason I haven’t felt like talking much. Am I allowed to not have my shit together? Should I really say what’s on my mind? Is this a wise career move? Are there any current/future employers scoping out my internet life? If I let it known I am weak and wounded, will the rest of the pack pounce and devour me? Or will they simply leave me behind, a limp who is of no use? “Better to shut up and not say anything,” I told myself for the longest time, “it’s safer that way.” And yet I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this way. I read it on someone’s blog once…