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| Pictured: Blues and Funk |
Severe depression is a constant feeling of hopelessness and despair. It's a feeling of utter worthlessness and the knowledge (not suspicion, because you truly believe with all your heart and soul) that your "friends" merely put up with you because they feel sorry for you. It is a condition that makes it difficult to work or study, maintain healthy eating or sleeping habits, and affects every relationship you have. People pull away from you because you are depressed, and you are depressed because people pull away from you. And of course they do. People with clinical depression know they deserve to be left alone.
"But you have so much to be happy about!" people say, and they mean well. But it's not something that someone can turn off at will. It's not something that can be easily fought. Sure drugs help, but most of them kill all emotions or make a person feel like a zombie. We are talking about a chemical process here, and it defies rational thought. You can't just will it away by reminding a person how fortunate they are. Because we know we don't deserve it. We don't just feel it, we know it. We believe it.
Here are a few of the most common symptoms of severe depression:
- Fatigue or loss of energy almost every day
- Feelings of worthlessness or guilt almost every day
- Impaired concentration, indecisiveness
- Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) almost every day
- Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities nearly every day (called anhedonia, this symptom can be indicated by reports from significant others)
- Restlessness or feeling slowed down
- Recurring thoughts of death or suicide
- Significant weight loss or gain (a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month)
Any of that sound familiar? If it does, seek help. Seriously. Depression isn't a joke. It's not some kind of contagious bullshit diagnosis. It's real. It hurts everyone. It kills.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression almost twenty years ago. Run though the list of symptoms above, and I could put a check by every one of them. Do you have any idea what it is like to feel like, without a doubt, that you are damned? Not figuratively, literally. I took Prozac until my insurance, feeling that mental health wasn't a real thing, stopped covering it. You have no idea how close to ending it all I was. I was actually sitting in my home office one day trying to figure out how to die and make it look like an accident so my insurance would pay out when my oldest, then only around ten years old, came in. "What's the matter, Daddy?" I explained Daddy didn't feel well. She climbed up in my lap and kissed me and told me she loved me.
I cried for an hour.
She saved my life that day. I realized that if she still loved me, no matter how piss-poor of a father I felt like I was, I could fight through anything. I had a house, a wife, a kid... I could put food on the table... I didn't just magically become better, but every day, I woke up and reminded myself of the things that I had and of how many people cared about me. I still do it. Every day. I have to. Depression doesn't go away, but with great practice and determination, one can fight it.
Why am I bringing this up? Simple. Mental health needs to be destigmatized. We've lost too many people to depression. We've come so close to losing others because they're ashamed of this disease. And they shouldn't be. But we all get it. We all hear taunts of "suck it up" and "man up" and "sissy" and "titty baby" and "cry baby." We get told "real men don't cry" and are ridiculed if we show even the slightest hint that we might be human. Women get labeled as "crazy bitches" and "psycho" and other derogatory phrases that hurt and drive us into hiding instead of getting help. And when that happens, people die. People lose hope. People fall through the cracks. And they're usually never the people you suspect.
I have a very carefully crafted persona that puts forth a happy, smiling, loony guy for the world to see. Sometimes it's real. Sometimes it's fake. Unless you know me really well, you'll never know which is when. We lost Robin Williams to depression, one of the funniest men in history. We almost lost Wayne Brady, another amazing performer. One of my good friends, an author named Michael Knost (and I'm only sharing this because he did so on Facebook) recently took the amazingly brave step and opened up about the depression that almost killed him.
And you know what? I love him for it.
Look... If you have any of the symptoms above, or if you know someone who does, get help. Seek it out. Do not be afraid to ask for help. It's an illness. And it only gets better with treatment.
Me? I'm lucky. I trained myself to fight it, and I do every day. Will I see a therapist again? Probably, if I can find one I can trust (that's a whole other blog). But in the meantime, I will continue to fight and push back against the disease that sometimes cripples me.
I have to add here: There are so many people in my life that have helped me out from under this black cloud. My daughters (both of them). My brother. My wife. I remarried this year (2016) to an amazing woman who is nothing but supportive. I surround myself with positive people. I am going to beat this. It can be defeated.
Until next time.
SAJ
