Depression Isn’t For Everybody
I distinctly heard the click in my brain yesterday. I’ve heard it before and, once I’ve heard the click, I know it’s pretty much too late to go for my meds. I know I’m going to be in hell for a while. It’s not a fun journey.
There’s always a trigger. I don’t need or want to go into what triggered it this time, because it doesn’t make much difference. The trigger is always disproportionate to the effect.
Finally, about four years ago, I had my disease diagnosed. The doctors called it “clinical depression.” They said it’s not uncommon with alcoholics (even people like me with 28 years of sobriety), and it’s also not uncommon, ironically, with comedians. I got the double whammy.
Yesterday, like the J.K. Rowling quote states above, I did not want to be alive anymore. If you have clinical depression, you know exactly what she means. I wasn’t suicidal. I didn’t want to kill myself; but I didn’t want to be alive. I wanted, somehow, for the Universe to stop my heart. At one point during the day, I actually tried to stop my heart by using my mind. I don’t know if it’s ever worked for anyone else, but it didn’t for me.
The light at the end of the tunnel was a train. The trigger that initiated the episode was inconsequential at that point. My disease had its vice-like grip around my whole body. Not even my bed felt like a safe place, but I couldn’t seem to leave. I didn’t want to talk about it; I didn’t want advice; I just wanted it to go away. It was like my eyes only saw gray. Everything that entered my brain was negative, which made sense since I was garbage, I’ve always been garbage, and my entire life had been meaningless.
I was numb for a while, which wasn’t too bad. I didn’t feel anything. As a matter of fact, there never is pain as we commonly know it. I had no faith. I had no gratitude. I had no hope.
Since I’ve been through this several times before, I knew the answer.
I just had to get through it. I knew it would pass, and sure enough, today is much better. It’s not completely gone, but it’s nothing like it was yesterday. My meds from the psychiatrist help with prevention. I don’t think there is a cure. After over twenty years of sobriety, depression rears its ugly head. Figures. So, I treat it like the disease it is.
I don’t gotta like it…but I do gotta deal with it.
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