"When I become depressed, it manifests as existential crisis. I am not suffering from lethargy because I am experiencing mental self deprecation. I fail to move because I cannot find or see any reason in anything. Anything I do today will be forgotten by all, including me, by next week. So what point is there to doing anything? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Whether my name lasts on some art, or just a tombstone, what difference does it make to the ashes? What evidence is there that the time between mattered?"
Some days it is a challenge to conjure up the will to move at all. On days like these, I try to start moving early and keep moving. I know if I stop that I will stop entirely. I cannot rest or I will become catatonic. I must keep moving.
This chore becomes increasingly difficult with the accompanying lack of motivation. Everything seems so completely pointless that it's a fight to maintain forward motion. However, throughout life I have learned that the best thing I can do is try my best to keep moving. The depression multiplies when I view my behavior as lazy. I must keep fixing things. I must keep writing. I must keep ruminating.
Days like these lead to thoughts like these.
It would be best described as a profound sense of futility.
Emptiness.
Ineffectiveness.
The realization that while I keep myself busy making things and doing things to give myself some sense of purpose, all the things I am making are seldom appreciated by anyone else.
Even if they are, it is as brief as a breath of air.
The thoughts circle the drain. I realize that I endeavor to have a purpose by doing things that are inconsequential according to the evidence available to me.
I often begin to resent those around me. I try to keep it internal as much as possible. My brain subconsciously searches for something or someone to blame for my feelings. I have to quickly shoo away those thoughts before the mental gymnastics get going and make the accusation seem sensible to me. It is not reasonable.
I did not realize it earlier in life, but I'm uncomfortably aware of it now. My mood has very little to do with real events. The depression ebbs and flows, as does the counterpart. I am no longer certain how often I am euthymic, but I do believe it is more common than the alternatives. The juxtaposition between highs and lows gives a frame of reference that I believe skews my view of things. I cannot get into the minds of others, and certainly we have no way to compare emotional experiences, but I can't help but wonder if the low feels as low to someone who never feels the high.
I keep pressing on. Experience has taught me that if I keep moving, I will get out of this quicker, and not go as low.
While I am not in control of the event, I can have an impact on how long or daunting it is, if I can just summon the will to keep functioning.
In my experience, no one really shows much empathy to depression. Many seem to believe it must be your attitude or your choice. You just don't want to be happy enough. You would rather wallow in self-pity. Even if someone does not say it, I've seen how people look at others who are depressed. When someone is distraught, or there is an obvious and observable cause, people can empathize. I cannot even truly say I am not guilty of this, and I can relate.
I can only speak for myself when I say; I am trying. I just don't win every time. Sometimes, when someone interacts with me, they may feel I'm in a decent mood and optimistic. Sometimes that version of me is just me doing well at the depression game that day. If there was anything I could make others understand, it would be that the days I give up and just lie in one place for hours, it is unlikely that I did not try. Most likely, I tried as hard as I could and ran out of will. The outside observer cannot see how long I was fighting it. Only where I lost. Success or winning is not visible.
Social obligations or norms do not weigh much into the picture either. When I am depressed and think everything is meaningless, it is not by comparison. I think everyone else and everything they do is trivial as well.
This adds to the trouble of pulling out of the darkness. At this moment, I can not think of an instance where someone else has reached in and pulled me out. What motivational words from another person would not seem hollow when all I can think about is how this thought that is passing through their head that they are expressing verbally is just pointless as anything else? In these depressions I am not lacking perspective. I am not comparing myself to anything. I am not forgetting all of the wise words and encouraging phrases that have been engrained in my memory. My conscious mind is simply convinced none of it matters at all.
The coping mechanism I have learned that works for me is just fighting it as hard and as long as I can. Keep moving. Keep making things that no one cares about. Keep writing things that no one reads. Keep creating art that no one will see or appreciate. Put one foot in front of the other and carry on. Maintain plans made, no matter how much you do not want to participate. I can't stop the experience entirely, but I can try my best to not exacerbate it. Maybe I will get through it without an obvious collapse. I would categorize a win as making it to the other side without others being fully aware I was depressed.
I do not always win this game, but I can rest assured I will get the chance to play again.
The perspective of the experience will make the light seem that much brighter on the other side.
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