That’s not to say I was typically suicidal; cause I dont think I ever had the gumption to do it myself, but if it happened to me Id’ve been relieved.
For instance: I would never jump into traffic (although I fantasized it regularly) but should a car careen onto the sidewalk and crush me, well that would be just dandy. I definitely wouldn’t attempt to dodge it.
My dad did actually kill himself, although whether on purpose or not, depending on who you ask, is up for debate. I had the misfortune of being apprised of this new info at my greatmas funeral about a year later when my violent, heroin-addicted, woman beating, uncle cornered me and gave me all the gory details. I was so uncomfortable, only 11 years old, and completely unsure how to react. I just stood there letting him talk as I silently looked to my mom for a reprieve that wouldn’t come. Its 20 years later and I’m still waiting for her.
Dad died 3 days before my 10th birthday, and the day after he got out of jail. I was stoked thinking that he would be able make it to my birthday party. I couldn’t wait to see him. While my party did still happen it was the day after the funeral.
I was right next to my mom when she got the call. I remember it in bits and pieces, like flickering flashes in my brain. I remember knowing whatever happened, it would effect me the rest of my life. I saw it so clearly the moment my mom (married to someone else by this time) crumbled, like a child in the hallway. Life had drained out of her body or something. I don’t remember the words that were said, or how she told us. I just watched memorizing that bleeding feeling I had when it hit me, that moment I knew he was gone. I relived that scene, countless times growing up. It was the moment I stepped inside my head and out of my body. I started watching my life as if were a movie, comfortably detached, and I stayed that way for 20 years.
We’ve all had our tragedies. I dont know one person who hasn’t had a difficult childhood in one way or another; but depression isn’t counting or comparing scars. It’s not crying all the time either. Depression is the amalgamation of numerous symptoms that you might not have ever associated with an imbalance. With mental illness so greatly exaggerated on TV, and depression/bipolar sensationalized to the point of absurdity, it’s hard to know whether or not you’ve got a chemical imbalance or if your life just sucks, broken or just breaking. It’s a detriment because we can’t suppress, treat, or prevent symptoms that go unnoticed, or unacknowledged. It’s all the more difficult when you’re as detached as I had made myself.
“So, oh beautiful and wise Amanda, with heart so true, what are the depression symptoms”
First: Thank you, that was very sweet and very accurate.
Second: I’m glad you asked. Depression is everything. From you sleep or dont sleep, to your inability to pick a movie on Netflix. Depression, can be chemical as well as situational, and often its both.
If it’s a serotonin deficiency causing the depression it can have the same exact effect on your behavior, physicality mood as the death of a loved one, just add some self loathing, fatigue, doubt, insomnia; anxiety etc. Read about symptoms online if your curious or concerned, but do NOT self diagnose or self treat; and no web MD!! You do not have tear Cancer and you really need to talk to an objective party. Preferably talk to someone who can diagnose and/or prescribe SSRISs, MAOIs or TCAs. This would be a PCP, Psychiatrist, or or your sadomasochistic gynecologist Dr Pokey McColdhands. If diagnosed treatment will more than likely be a combination of medication, lifestyle changes and possible therapy depending on the circumstance.
Now, back to all the hella good parts that are about ME! Although diagnosed with depression at a young age, I didn’t take medications. I just thought my lack of followthrough, propensity for addiction, impulsivity and general melancholia was the obvious result of a childhood covered in shit, (dead dad, not that attentive mom, violent sociopath big sister) While all of that definitely contributed to my disposition, it wasn’t the overall source of it. For me, the issue wasnt solely circumstantial, it was also chemical. I had to address the internal problem before even considering the external ones and I was clueless about both.
Again, having disassociated myself from my life back then, I didn’t even notice when all of those emotional cuts and bruises were gone. Somehow those painful, easy to blame circumstances had changed, but I was still broken. Whats more is that while my life had gotten better, my depression had actually gotten worse. So I figured it was high time I live by the example my parents gave me, hence my “Peter Hardwick” years. Opiates and booze became the crutch on which I rested my broken spirit. And holy fuck did it blow.
I could tell you story after story about all the drugs, alcohol, sex, jesus, politics, and cynicism I crammed into my body and soul to keep the depression away, but my guess is that part of my story is cookie cutter and pretty easy to imagine. All things said though, hitting my rock bottom wasn’t because there was nowhere lower to dig, but rather, that I was officially done digging. I simply said, “This is my rock bottom, I refuse to go lower”.
It was damn near intolerable watching my descent from afar, and the worse I got, the further the distance became. I knew I had to climb back into my body and out of my poisoned head. Otherwise I was going to end up like my dad or my mom, the inevitable rock bottom beneath my shovel.
Despite not looking or feeling like all those people I had seen on TV or in movies, I was still going to ask for help. That was just over 8 months ago and holy hell has my life changed. As it turned out, what I had thought to be a teensy bit of possible depression was, on a numerical scale, six times worse than a typical person feels on their worst day. That shocked the kitten-shit out of me. How could be this broken and not know it?
I think about it like this. A blind man does not wake up at 30 all of the sudden saying “Holy Shit I’m blind”. If no one ever tells him what THEY can see, the man wont realize what HE cant. In short it doesn’t feel abnormal when it’s all you’ve ever known. If you were to ask that blind man to describe a color, he could probably tell you echoes of things he’s heard others say “Red is hot, blue is cool”, but those words have no visual reference to him. Just as to those who’ve always been depressed, things like happiness, joy, or contentment are essentially meaningless. It’s sad that a lot of people operate under the misapprehension that the best they’ve ever felt, is as good as it’ll ever get. This is why outside perspective is crucial, with depressives, the bar for happiness is set so low, that some actually convince them selves they are happy.
I’ve lived broken, eyes without color 20 years, of my 30 year life. if you think Im going to say it was all worth it to get here, you’d be dead-fucking-wrong. I would take those years back in a second, but I’m also okay with letting it all go too
I’m on a SSRI called Prozac, taking 80mg day, and my whole world has changed. I see colors now. I feel joy. I feel like a kid seeing the world for the first time, and I’ve no desire to ever close my eyes again.
People are not supposed to wake up already overwhelmed with anxiety, regret, stress, pessimism, fear, fatigue and pain. Your head is not supposed to be your captor, restraining your optimism and burying it doubt, self loathing and resentment. The pain of depression is NOT normal, despite how used to it we’ve become. All of those gnawing, aching, deafening whispers you hear in that painful few minutes between turning off the light and falling asleep, that’s not who you are, it’s a symptom of a completely treatable disease.
You are meant to live in contentment, and peace. More importantly, more than anything else, you are meant to live in a way that doesn’t require constant self deprecation and unending internal war between who you are and who you wish you were. The distorted-fucked-up image of you as dictated by your depression is nothing more than a symptom. All of you who’ve been depressed all your lives have no grounds on which to limit your potential. You haven’t even met the beautiful, funny, happy, COLORFUL person you are under all of that blindness.
Some people have bad eyesight, some people have depression.
All of us have help.
And now you have me
Buck up lil camper!
Call your doctor
Well get you fixed up in no time.
#PostItForward
