There’s a blog I read called “Hyperbole and a Half”.
Mostly, the posts are funnies, with cartoons, and I have on several occasions laughed at them so hard I couldn’t breathe.
The most recent post, tho, wasn’t a funny. It was about depression.
It had quite a lot in it I could relate to.
There’s the feeling of emptiness, of not feeling anything. I had that for YEARS. I used to try to meditate in my lunch break, but whenever I just sat down and cleared my mind, instead of getting that nice happy glow of relaxation, I used to notice that I either was tense from trying not to feel anything, or I was sad.
If I’d actually been aware of my feelings back then, I might have noticed that I hated my job, didn’t like the relationship I was in, and basically had nothing in my life that made me happy. But I’d shut myself away from all that, and just carried on, numbly getting through a day at a time.
Then I finally got out of the job, and some of that numb iciness finally melted. A book I read in the library melted off even more. Did I ever mention my sort-of-superstition about books? It’s weird: From time to time in my life, I see a book on a shelf; maybe in a shop, maybe in a library, maybe in someone’s house. It’s never a book I’ve ever heard of, or an author I’ve heard of, or anything… just a book that I know nothing about in any way. And something tells me “You need this book. You need to know what this book has to say. It’s important.” And it’s always been right. It found me the book that took me around Europe; the book that gave me direction when I came back; and a few other things. And on that occasion, it found me a slushy romance book in the library that I scanned through and something in it hit me in the face with the realization that that relationship I was in with Crafty was completely wrong for both of us. So having finally gotten out of the job, I then found myself getting out of that relationship too. Which meant moving out as well, of course.
So, new home, new job, and shortly after, new relationship as well. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I was feeling things again. I actually felt happy from time to time. Even when I was feeling angry or frustrated or unhappy about what was going on in my life, it was still better than that horrible emptiness.
And then I decided that the new career wasn’t for me after all, and quit. And the relationship ended. And lacking any other idea of what to do with myself, I upped and went traveling. And that was when depression REALLY struck. With fangs. And venom. It felt like I had lost absolutely everything, I had no clue where to go or what to do, no real idea why I should even bother.. I was completely adrift and had no idea how to go about setting myself back on a new path.
That was when I experienced something else from HaaH’s post: I used to imagine depression as The Pit – a deep dark hole that you fall into and then you forget that there’s anything outside of. It’s just you, alone in the empty darkness.
Except you’re not alone, because there’s someone there with you. Always. On Haah’s post, it was kind of a bully. I called it The Liar.
It was always there, whispering so quietly that its voice sounded like your own thoughts. It was the little voice that told you that you were too tired to do anything; it was too much effort to talk to friends or make an effort to go out; that nobody wanted to see you anyway; that nobody really liked you or wanted you around.
I think that was a large part of why I could never bring myself to do what I really knew I should do, and just cut off completely from Naughty: I was trying to convince myself that The Liar *was* lying, so I reached out to somebody who I thought DID care, hoping that if I could prove that it was lying about that, then it was lying about other things too, and maybe I could stop listening to it.
But of course, Naughty didn’t really want to talk to me by then, so if anything I just made matters worse all around. It’s amazing how destructive depression can be, really.
It had been around for years, a chronic disease poisoning my life so slowly and gradually I never really noticed it. It was that period in my life that made it flare up to the point that it was all there was: My whole life was just an aching emptiness, a burden that made getting out of bed each day a huge effort and being productive when up even harder. A lot of the time, my method for getting through the day was to think about suicide: “See if you can get through one more day,” I’d think. “You can always end it tomorrow. Give it one more day.”
Knowing that you have a way out, even if that way out is just to end everything, can make such a difference. It got me through, anyway.
I never quite got to HaaH’s state of being so far into depression, I couldn’t feel anything else. Almost, but not quite. Probably a good thing: I never had the desire to not care what other people thought about me, nor any fear of horror films, so I wouldn’t have had her inspirational reaction to the total apathy that got her out.
But I have got bottomless reserves of bloody-minded stubborn-ness. It’s kind of a defining characteristic. So when I came to the conclusion that depression was an enemy that could be fought, when it became a battle of wills that I was determined to win.. it took months, and it was damn hard, but eventually the day came when I considered myself cured.
It lasted a fair old time. Until this time last year, in fact. Then I had a recurrence, again sneaking up on me, so subtle that I didn’t notice until I was deep into The Pit again.
But when I suddenly noticed that this wasn’t just unhappiness but full-on depression, the strongest surge of willpower I’ve ever felt flooded through my mind and it honestly felt like I had mentally taken hold of The Liar and hurled it bodily out of my head.
I’ve been clear of it ever since. And that hasn’t been because it’s been a good year. Three car/bike crashes, broken bones, scars, money worries, pet health scares.. this year has in fact sucked royally for a lot of the time.
But however bad it got, I never felt more than stoic resignation: Shit happens, it’s happened again, just keep going and get back on top of things. And so I have done, not necessarily happily, but at least without depression knocking me for six. Know your enemy,they say, and I’m getting pretty good at recognizing it. And fighting it.
And in a weird way, it’s been good for me. I’m much more relaxed and confident than I was a few years ago, and more well-rounded in general. Flaws I used to be told I had are gone; as are most of the flaws I noticed in myself. In a way I’d find it hard to quantify, I feel like I have more depth than I had back then. I can look back on the past and think how differently I’d handle it today.
And so the year is ending a little better than it started, and with numerous promising threads to pursue in the new year. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m closer to it than I was a year ago. I’ve got a few more people to buy Christmas presents for than I did last year, a few things to look forward to. And so we progress.
To end, a song I’ve listened to a lot lately. After so many years of having little more feeling that a machine, I can relate to the message of it.
Plus, in a world where it’s so rare to see a woman without lipstick on, there’s something amazingly sexy about a woman not wearing any :o)
