I know its coming when my heart stops feeling the music, and I find myself in an all consuming silence. When a song is simply a song, and words lose their meanings. I know darkness as an old lover. Once so passionate and tentative, always there for me to fall into. Depression is something that no one wants to ever really talk about, and thats because its hard to understand. It's the mess you sweep under the rug, the pile of leaves in the yard you're too exhausted to get rid of. The darkness comes and go, and it never lasts forever although it always feels never ending. When autumn is in full swing, I fall swiftly into the darkness I work the whole year to get out of. It's clockwork, and each year I know its coming, but how does one prepare for the time of year that you forget who you are. When your muscles forget how to work, and your will to be human seems nonexistent.
It's November 4th, and I am faced with said darkness. As the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer, my downward spiral flies more and more out of control. Sometimes I feel like an outsider just watching and not being able to do anything about it until its too late and I am too far gone. I hate the repair process. The time it takes to get me back from the grip of depression and self loathing.
"I wanna get it right but I keep on getting it wrong. I hope that you were right last night on the telephone. This too shall pass." -Sinclair
I bought a bunch of health and wellness books trying to prepare myself for the inevitable. But I learned quickly that I couldn't read myself out of depression. How do you prepare for something like this? How do you prep yourself for feeling like a failure for a few months. Tearing apart all you've worked so hard to accomplish. People often ask why I allow this to happen, why I let it get to me, why I let it consume me. Depression is a lot like Stockholm syndrome. I learned to love my captor. Looking at all its doing for me, instead of what its taking from me. Seeing its presence as welcome company, something all too familiar. Comfortable even. I spent so many years stuck in the dark, that darkness became my friend. An ally, something to engulf myself in. Because it was easier to befriend the dark than to defend myself from it.
This is the time of year I forget who I am. I retreat to the corner of my bed, wrapped in a sea of blankets and drown in comfortable sadness. This unexplainable feeling that lingers around, unavoidable and inevitable. Mornings are the hardest, when its time to be human. Mornings are the time when I wish I could break free, make a run for it, finally rid myself of it all. My bed is so appealing, the idea of leaving seems like an impossible task, and I am consumed with my disdain towards living. Now, lets get this clear. This doesn't mean I no longer want to live, I have been down that road. I have been down no longer wanting to exist boulevard, and I never plan to return there. This is more or less being a human is hard lane, and sometimes it feels like a dead end. Theres nowhere else to go when you reach the end. But the truth is, that although right now I'm engulfed messy and confusing all consuming sadness, it never lasts forever.
I went to therapy a week later, still feeling lost and seemingly helpless. We spoke of the darkness, of its death grip on my mind drowning me in a puddle of thoughts. I told her that my depression is a lot like being locked out of my house in a storm. I know that I will eventually get inside. But right now I'm outside, shelterless, and soaking wet. Pissed off and irate, despondent and dismayed. Impatient and obscenely insecure. A chaotic mix of emotions that I can't even begin to explain.