Born to lose; Live to WIN: Kicking Depression’s Butt
Despite the splash image (Thanks, Genius Turner for the tips!), this is not a story about the ghost of a man who was viciously crushed by a train.
Just a little story about my mental health being crushed by the train called life-long depression.
This story is about overcoming this dark, stubborn bastard one, tiny battle at a time. Rubbing small victories in the face of that smug, little ass-face always reminding me that my student loans for a useless degree means I am unlovable and everyone thinks my face is stupid.
I had this idiot lurking inside me due to some abuse in my childhood and being that little weirdo that just couldn’t quite figure out other kids enough to befriend them.
Motörhead was the CULT that gave me the perfect mantra to get my shit together. Lemmy Kilmister, the guru.
“BORN TO LOSE. LIVE TO WIN.”
Even when it feels life is out to get me, this mantra helped me to be a rebel against that animosity in my own head. Screw the world! If I was born to be a loser…I will do my damn best to win, ANYWAY.
I gained confidence, made many friends, survived losing my first love, took risks and eventually settled into the President of my own, little company. I cleaned up dog poo and made a comfortable living. Plus couldn’t be depressed petting and hugging dogs all day long, right? (I still pet-sit. I love it.)
My latest relationship failed. My one business that was successful…fell apart as I shivered away in bed and wondering whether COVID19 would take my life or leave me lame in some way. (Sometime in March.)
I was bedridden a month. More than enough time for my dark passenger (Dexter reference. Not a serial killer, promise!) to embed his roots into me, yet again.
“Even Lemmy’s inoculation, against the darkness, was starting to be worn THIN.”
One point, I was calling suicide hotlines nightly as the 102F fever ravaged my body, mind, and soul.
With the help of my father, I overcame COVID19…yet had to deal with the aftermath.
No food in the pantry. Unemployment taking forever to kick in. Minimal human interaction. Coughing up blood nigh-constantly due to a poorly done COVID test tearing through my sinuses.
I gained weight. I lost direction. I no longer could keep busy with work. I no longer had another person to lean on to help with the mental burden. Dad was recovering, himself. I didn’t want to worry him.
So I slowly allowed myself to be smothered with the big, black blanket of depression.
“Hello, darkness. My old, old friend…and bastard.”
One day, sitting in a chair on my patio. Ravaged and tired…I asked Alexa to play some rock.
She chose an old Acid Rock station that THANKFULLY played…YOU GUESSED IT: BORN TO LOSE, LIVE TO WIN.
I felt something stir within me. The old me fighting from the depths of the deep ocean of self-loathing and sadness. Almost primal heat in an ocean of freezing, arctic waters.
I hadn’t taken a shower in well over 3 weeks. I got off my ass and told myself:
“PCP, ASSHOLE!” — Translation: Pits, Crotch, Pooper.
3 points to wash on my body if I could do nothing else with the hot water splashing around my filthy body.
Oh, did those waters run BLACK that day, my friends. It was like I was physically sweating out all the dark feelings within myself.
That one shower…holy crap. If felt like a warm hug from a goddess made up of concentrated RELIEF.
I didn’t even do the “PCP” method. I just stood there and soaked.
In the end…maybe that was better? The hot water running out and the cold water was a shock to my system. Like the blue screen of death for my previous self.
“I was forced to reboot.”
It wasn’t much, but you only need an inch to build…what? MOMENTUM.
That glorious shower was the start. Next was changing my clothes, daily. After that was cleaning up my room. After that was laundry. After that the kitchen, cooking and cleaning. After that was TINDER (Spoiler: I didn’t meet anyone.) After that was improving myself via diet. Exercise. Meditation.
I pondered on what was dead in my life and accepted it. I needed to rebuild. I got unemployment (Then lost a good chunk of it, then got some of it back at the cost of FEMA) and started looking into how to make up for the income I lost. Two minimum wage jobs was not enough to make up for nearly 60k income.
Studied back up on programming. Then on to AI and neural networks. Read everything I could on psychology and neuroscience to apply to applications for building chat bots.
Pushed my knowledge of Arduino and raspberry pi for use in LED builds that would be popular in Austin.
Even thought to make up NSFW halloween-themed adult, activity books involving BDSM coloring book-esq pages and dirty word puzzles to put up on ETSY, soon. (OH, I WILL LINK EVENTUALLY.)
MO — F’ING — MENTUM!
Now doing writing to vent and humor myself. Thinking I might make a few bucks in the far future, even.
Waiting on my neighbor to get back to me about a position in his company for Machine/Deep Learning.
He liked the vibes I output and said that spunk reminded him of himself when he was my age.
A budding entrepreneur much like myself.
A job might not happen and maybe it will.
I went for it and not sulking about sure bets.
As I take a deep breath and type this last bit, I am thankful.
I am alive.
I am enjoying life each moment at a time, with loose goals in between.
Born to lose? Maybe. But…
I’m LIVING TO WIN.
