I'm so fucking depressed, it's not even funny.
Sounds like something Yogi Berra would say. (He didn’t really say everything he said.)
Depression sucks. Literally, physically. Making it worse, is that it is really hard to explain to the average person what it feels like. The ‘ignorami’ will say things like, “Oh just get over it!” or “Will you get a life already?!” It is also extremely difficult to get to the root of the depression. Even if you come close to finding the cause, it still takes a lot of work, I mean a LOT of work, to make things right, or at least to get headed in the right direction. Even with qualified therapists and proper pharmaceutical meds, there is no guarantee that the depression will be eased. Causes could include chemical imbalances in the brain, injuries to the brain, or a series of circumstances that are devastating to the spirit of the depressed, sometimes called ‘situational depression.’ The ‘anger-turned-inwards’ theory, while debunked by some, certainly makes sense to me. My father is a very quiet, mild mannered man. I would have to delve deep to recall any instance of him losing his temper. Like father, like son.
My depression goes way back. Moving to a new town as I entered 8th grade was definitely the catalyst that sent me into a downward spiral of depression. Because my mother was still teaching at the school I had been enrolled in since 1st grade, it was decided that I would finish middle school there. In 1st grade, there aren’t as many physical differences between the tallest and the shortest, the strongest and the weakest, but by the time 6th, 7th, and 8th grades arrive, the differences are much more pronounced. I remained one of the three shortest boys in my class for the duration of the 8 years. I did not develop social skills, athletic skills, or self defense skills either. I did not have, and still do not have, that ‘gift of gab.’ I am not a salesman type, a smooth talker, a schmoozer. Don’t ask me to play poker, I’ll make you rich. (That is, if I had any money.) I recall my mother describing me as ‘happy-go-lucky’ (whatever that means) when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I don’t know what happened from the time I was 5 or 6 to the time 8th grade came around, but by that time I was ripe for this shit. I started drinking (Boone’s Farm Apple Wine) at age 13, and started smoking pot a year later. I didn’t realize it, but I was trying to escape the depression. But what kid at age 12 or 13 even has a clue that he’s depressed? Or has even knows what ‘depression’ is? It was the thing to do when you’re a teenager (drinking), but obviously I was enjoying it a lot more than my friends. High school sucked big time and drove me into an even deeper abyss. College in Florida was better, but I was still depressed and still didn’t know it. The depression and the accompanying substance abuse derailed blooming success in my savior at the time: my involvement in organized competition water skiing, at both the regional (and almost national) amateur levels, as well as the intercollegiate national level. My involvement in organized skiing kept me busy enough to keep from going off the deep end, but my substance abuse kept me from reaching any sustained level of success.
After my oldest brother moved to Tennessee the year I graduated from college in Florida, I felt even more lost. That’s when I discovered cocaine. The difference this time was that coke made me feel happy! It made the physical aches and pains go away! It woke me up at night when I wanted to stay out later, and the next day when I had to go to work. It helped me talk to girls! I still drank and smoked pot, frequently to excess, but they were taking a back seat to the coke. Well, before ya knew it, I had pissed away about $20k in about a year. (Still had no clue I was depressed.) Ran away from home at age 27 to come to California and ended up living in my van for about 5 months. I didn’t know where to get coke, so I drank. A lot, perhaps 6-12 bottles of beer every night for over 6 months. I met a woman who took a keen interest in me, and watched my drinking disappear. I took one drink of alcohol in a three year stretch after meeting her (but still did not know I was depressed.) Life continued to be a struggle. I’m sure the depression hindered my advancement in career and relationships, but I just kept on plugging along, taking one setback after another. In 1995, my physician at the time was the first one to ever suggest to me that I may be suffering from depression. I saw a therapist once, maybe twice back then, before a series of events took place that year that made me completely forget about my depression. For about a year, anyhow.
For the longest time, I attributed the continual depression to the lack of advancement in employment, social, and economic arenas. It has only been relatively recently that it dawned on me that it might have been the other way around.
So what exactly does depression feel like? I’m sure it’s different for all sufferers, but for me, at its worst, it can be downright painful. There was one day in particular that I recall. It was in October of 2005. I could not get out of bed. Literally. It felt like there was a huge stake driven into my chest pinning me to my bed. While this feeling is not uncommon, this is as bad as it can get. Most of the time I experience this sinking feeling in my chest, as if there was a huge black hole behind my sternum sucking every last bit of energy out of me that it is able, down into some bottomless pit somewhere deep inside. Those are the more physical symptoms. Behavioral symptoms may include actions such as rat-packing, disregard for health and cleanliness issues, procrastination, OC behaviors, fatigue, and lethargy. That’s not to say I’m doing all of those. Despite having a moving sale and selling many belongings on craigslist, I tend to pick up a lot of cheap stuff at the Goodwill and free stuff from craigslist. My house and laundry are fairly clean, but I am having an extremely difficult time getting ‘household administrative’ type tasks done in a timely manner. By ‘household administrative’ tasks, I mean things like filing your income tax form in January instead of April even when you know you’re getting a healthy refund, paying rent and bills on time, filling out forms for Social Security and other state and county services. I sleep 10-11 hours a day, and rarely feel like going out. Even initiating contact, or returning e-mails and phone calls from family and friends is difficult. Right now, I have little desire to do much of anything outside of the home; the Red Sox, writing and taking care of the plants in my patio are about the only things I do care about right now.
I anxiously await my Social Security/Medi-Care application to be approved so that I may resume treatment for Parkinson’s and this gdfn depression.
Depression sucks. Literally. But at least now I know it.
Sounds like something Yogi Berra would say. (He didn’t really say everything he said.)
Depression sucks. Literally, physically. Making it worse, is that it is really hard to explain to the average person what it feels like. The ‘ignorami’ will say things like, “Oh just get over it!” or “Will you get a life already?!” It is also extremely difficult to get to the root of the depression. Even if you come close to finding the cause, it still takes a lot of work, I mean a LOT of work, to make things right, or at least to get headed in the right direction. Even with qualified therapists and proper pharmaceutical meds, there is no guarantee that the depression will be eased. Causes could include chemical imbalances in the brain, injuries to the brain, or a series of circumstances that are devastating to the spirit of the depressed, sometimes called ‘situational depression.’ The ‘anger-turned-inwards’ theory, while debunked by some, certainly makes sense to me. My father is a very quiet, mild mannered man. I would have to delve deep to recall any instance of him losing his temper. Like father, like son.
My depression goes way back. Moving to a new town as I entered 8th grade was definitely the catalyst that sent me into a downward spiral of depression. Because my mother was still teaching at the school I had been enrolled in since 1st grade, it was decided that I would finish middle school there. In 1st grade, there aren’t as many physical differences between the tallest and the shortest, the strongest and the weakest, but by the time 6th, 7th, and 8th grades arrive, the differences are much more pronounced. I remained one of the three shortest boys in my class for the duration of the 8 years. I did not develop social skills, athletic skills, or self defense skills either. I did not have, and still do not have, that ‘gift of gab.’ I am not a salesman type, a smooth talker, a schmoozer. Don’t ask me to play poker, I’ll make you rich. (That is, if I had any money.) I recall my mother describing me as ‘happy-go-lucky’ (whatever that means) when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I don’t know what happened from the time I was 5 or 6 to the time 8th grade came around, but by that time I was ripe for this shit. I started drinking (Boone’s Farm Apple Wine) at age 13, and started smoking pot a year later. I didn’t realize it, but I was trying to escape the depression. But what kid at age 12 or 13 even has a clue that he’s depressed? Or has even knows what ‘depression’ is? It was the thing to do when you’re a teenager (drinking), but obviously I was enjoying it a lot more than my friends. High school sucked big time and drove me into an even deeper abyss. College in Florida was better, but I was still depressed and still didn’t know it. The depression and the accompanying substance abuse derailed blooming success in my savior at the time: my involvement in organized competition water skiing, at both the regional (and almost national) amateur levels, as well as the intercollegiate national level. My involvement in organized skiing kept me busy enough to keep from going off the deep end, but my substance abuse kept me from reaching any sustained level of success.
After my oldest brother moved to Tennessee the year I graduated from college in Florida, I felt even more lost. That’s when I discovered cocaine. The difference this time was that coke made me feel happy! It made the physical aches and pains go away! It woke me up at night when I wanted to stay out later, and the next day when I had to go to work. It helped me talk to girls! I still drank and smoked pot, frequently to excess, but they were taking a back seat to the coke. Well, before ya knew it, I had pissed away about $20k in about a year. (Still had no clue I was depressed.) Ran away from home at age 27 to come to California and ended up living in my van for about 5 months. I didn’t know where to get coke, so I drank. A lot, perhaps 6-12 bottles of beer every night for over 6 months. I met a woman who took a keen interest in me, and watched my drinking disappear. I took one drink of alcohol in a three year stretch after meeting her (but still did not know I was depressed.) Life continued to be a struggle. I’m sure the depression hindered my advancement in career and relationships, but I just kept on plugging along, taking one setback after another. In 1995, my physician at the time was the first one to ever suggest to me that I may be suffering from depression. I saw a therapist once, maybe twice back then, before a series of events took place that year that made me completely forget about my depression. For about a year, anyhow.
For the longest time, I attributed the continual depression to the lack of advancement in employment, social, and economic arenas. It has only been relatively recently that it dawned on me that it might have been the other way around.
So what exactly does depression feel like? I’m sure it’s different for all sufferers, but for me, at its worst, it can be downright painful. There was one day in particular that I recall. It was in October of 2005. I could not get out of bed. Literally. It felt like there was a huge stake driven into my chest pinning me to my bed. While this feeling is not uncommon, this is as bad as it can get. Most of the time I experience this sinking feeling in my chest, as if there was a huge black hole behind my sternum sucking every last bit of energy out of me that it is able, down into some bottomless pit somewhere deep inside. Those are the more physical symptoms. Behavioral symptoms may include actions such as rat-packing, disregard for health and cleanliness issues, procrastination, OC behaviors, fatigue, and lethargy. That’s not to say I’m doing all of those. Despite having a moving sale and selling many belongings on craigslist, I tend to pick up a lot of cheap stuff at the Goodwill and free stuff from craigslist. My house and laundry are fairly clean, but I am having an extremely difficult time getting ‘household administrative’ type tasks done in a timely manner. By ‘household administrative’ tasks, I mean things like filing your income tax form in January instead of April even when you know you’re getting a healthy refund, paying rent and bills on time, filling out forms for Social Security and other state and county services. I sleep 10-11 hours a day, and rarely feel like going out. Even initiating contact, or returning e-mails and phone calls from family and friends is difficult. Right now, I have little desire to do much of anything outside of the home; the Red Sox, writing and taking care of the plants in my patio are about the only things I do care about right now.
I anxiously await my Social Security/Medi-Care application to be approved so that I may resume treatment for Parkinson’s and this gdfn depression.
Depression sucks. Literally. But at least now I know it.
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