Skip to main content

Welcome to the Dark Side

Welcome to my dark side. We all have one. You can lie to yourself and everyone you know and say that you don't but you do. I know I do.

My dark side is simple enough though. Those closest to me already know all about it. It may come as a surprise to everyone else though, that I have lived with/suffered with chronic depression pretty much my entire life. As it turns out, its a genetic trait passed down on my mother's side of the family. My mother quietly battled depression. Her twin sister did the same. Their mother eventually committed suicide due to hers. My first suicidal impulses started at age four. They've continued for 39 years. Sometimes they're frequent, sometimes not so frequent. The most important thing I learned about them is that they are impulses, nothing more. They're like a nagging itch in my brain. If I ignore it, it gets worse. I had to find my own way to "scratch that itch" though. I learned to talk myself through it. I remind myself that its an impulse...most likely caused by some chemical misfire in my brain. After a while it goes away again.

Strangely enough, that's not the worst part of my depression. The worst is what I call "the dark moods". When they come on, they can last anywhere from minutes to months. I've learned to live through them, again reminding myself that its probably a chemical misfire.
Allow me to clarify something: being depressed and feeling a little down is one thing. It happens to everybody. Having chronic depression is, and I fully admit this, a disease. Unfortunately, a disease with mostly useless treatments and no cure. There are days when it quite literally takes every bit of strength I have just to get out of bed. Factor in my chronic obstructive sleep apnea, and you get some idea of what waking up is like for me! It makes sleeping hell. Once I'm up and moving, I'm usually OK. I force myself to think positively and to use some cognitive therapy tools I've learned over the years. I force myself to face reality in ways that are a little scary. I have to be brutally honest with myself about my feelings about everyone and everything. Fun way to start the day eh? Luckily, this isn't an everyday occurrence. I usually only have to go through this during the "dark moods".

People, like myself, with depression can and do function. Maybe not to our fullest capacities but we do. We're able to laugh and joke as well. Our laughs might not be as hearty but they're there...and for me, those moments keep my life from being a living hell. (that, dear friends, is why I make jokes about everything...regardless of how inappropriate it may seem) We're able to carry on relationships too...but those often suffer from the side effects of depression. Denial plays a major part in this. The most important thing for a person with depression to do is to find someone they can communicate with. We (the depressed) often lie to ourselves, and worse, those in our lives, about our condition. We say things like "No, I'm okay" or "I'm just a little blue today" when often we're thinking "I just want it all to end".

Depression is a thief. It robs it's victims of the joys that most people take for granted. It sometimes robs us of the few joys we actually do have. My love of music is often the victim of my depression. There are periods when I've gone months without even touching a guitar because the joy has been (at least temporarily) taken away. Those moments hurt. Deeply. Depression also robs it's victims of intimacy. My heart breaks for my girlfriend (and the significant others of anyone with depression). There are times when I'm just too deep in depression to be able to accept her attempts to comfort me. It's like being in a hole with someone reaching down to you and you're just not able to reach their hand.

You may be asking "Why aren't you in therapy?" or "Why aren't you taking antidepressants?". The answers are simple. I spent enough time in therapy to learn the skills I need to cope. It doesn't cure the disease but if one is able to maintain the use of these skills, one can survive. Antidepressants scare the hell out of me. The side effects are often as bad if not worse than the disease. The last time I was on them, I developed tremors in my right arm, which my doctor informed me was my body getting ready to go into seizures. He had me stop taking them immediately. Sadly, those six weeks that I was on it was the best I have ever slept.
So why am I writing all this? Because I am and will continue to live my life, regardless of this disease. I care deeply about those in my life and I feel the need for them to understand. I feel for those like me who live with this. If just one person reads this who has never had someone to turn to and has wondered what's wrong with them reads this and comes away realizing that they're not alone, then I write this for them as well.

I'm also writing this because I woke up Monday in one of my darkest moods. No warning. The beast was just there. It was all I could do to beat the beast back down...but I did. Within a few hours I felt OK again. Not great but OK. And I can live with that. I now look forward to the day when I feel great again! I know its coming. If I've learned nothing else from a lifetime with depression; I've learned that sometimes we all have to wait. And the reward is good. REAL good!

Take care my friends! I'm not going anywhere. I'm not hurting myself. I have no plans to. Life, I realize, is far too special to permanently solve a temporary problem.

Comments

  1. i relate to all of this soooo much. that's what had me up at 4 am, in fact. oh well. like you said, i'm not hurting myself. life is far too special to permanently solve a temporary problem.
    i am somewhat witless right now due to lack of sleep! all i can do is quote w/o the quote marks!
    happy eve to us both, j :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I see from the stats n'at that people keep finding this post. I hope it's helpful. I also hope YOU are being your typical, Jenny-tastic self! :-)

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Not At MY Age! (for the nebby folks)

 This will come as no surprise to anyone - I'm not a morning person. Those of us who prefer the dark, quiet hours of the night do occasionally have to deal with the reality that there is a 5:30 in the AM as well as PM. It's an uncomfortable reality, but that's just life.  I had to deal with the AM version yesterday. Long story short, I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30, had no idea where the office was, and still had to attempt to function. My morning routine is non-negotiable. It's really the only way I can deal with most people. Yes, copious amounts of coffee are involved.  I had a check-up last week. My regular doc (I call him "Doogie" but I'm not convinced he fully understands the reference), who is younger than some shoes I own, was concerned about a growth on my nose. I wasn't...but I don't have the magic letters following my name, so my opinion is moot.  Let me be clear, I've dealt with this before. As cancers go, my previous bout o...

Meatball

 I was always a dog person. I grew up with dogs. Dear ol' dad was never a fan of cats. Mom loved all animals. But ours was a dog house. Plain and simple. My first experience living with a cat was thanks to a roommate. He had a 40-pound lump of feline ferocity named Meatball. When he moved in with his girlfriend, the cat was left behind, due to the girlfriend's alleged allergies. I believe the reality was more like she was allergic to the oversized beast's personality.  Meatball was just mean. Maybe that's the wrong word. In his defense, he was a foundling. My roomie worked at a pizza joint, and Meatball was found in the alley behind the place...noshing on a discarded meatball. This was the cat's preferred food.  Aside from his obesity, Meatball had ear mites or something as a kitten. His ears flopped down, not unlike a pig.  Just imagine a 40-pound cat, with floppy ears, and a bad disposition. Oh, he was mostly white with some black spots. On the rare occasions he w...

The Alleged Life and Times of Wynn Rainey

Inspiration can come from the most unexpected situations. - MCM Everyone in town knew Wynn Rainey, but no one really knew Wynn Rainey. Even today, in and around Downey Bluff, the Rainey name will get folks to talking. As far away as Norwich, people still remember him. Everyone has a story, and more importantly, an opinion. Depending on who you talk to, some will say Wynn Rainey was a man of means. The Wenberg family, who owned and ran the local savings and loan, did a lot of business with him, if stories are to be believed. Oddly enough, there never seemed to be an active account in his name. The same people who told these tales were the same ones who’d tell you that assets are better than cash. Wynn Rainey always seemed to have the latter. Usually at least a pocketful. Some would tell you he was loose as a goose with his money. Some would tell you he could squeeze ten cents out of a buffalo nickel’s ass. Lots of the old timers will share stories of Rainey paying everyone’s tab at...