It was really refreshing to wake up this morning unreasonably happy; no thoughts about anything in particular, except trying to remember the dreams I had last night. I walked over to turn my air conditioner off, and when I got to the window to turn the dial to the “Off” position, I wondered why I was so happy. It wasn’t even the kind of happy you experience on your best day with friends, or the jubilant relief that accompanies realizing a gnawing worry is resolved. It was, in the only way I can think to describe it, ignorant bliss (Clichés-1, Wiggygirl-0). I wasn’t sure why I was happy, but I was obviously enjoying it. Honestly, I have not felt that happy in weeks or months. Months. That’s a long time to not experience an emotion, let alone a fantastic one. This realization made me wonder how long it would be until I felt this strange elation again. After a few weeks of believing my depression was actually going away, I was hit by an especially depressive mood at the beginning of this week; unfortunately, I have to wonder if I brought it on myself. I had been sick after coming home from vacation at the beach, and through a mixture of not really wanting to go to work and guilt of probably spreading germs to my coworkers, I coerced myself to take Monday off. I texted my boss that morning and he told me it was fine if I didn’t come into work, and to inform him when I would be able to come back in (have I mentioned my boss is really chill?). Monday was spent sleeping a lot, browsing a variety of sites on my computer, maybe a little reading….nothing too productive, because I was attempting to relax and “get better”. However, as the day progressed and I knew I would have to go back to work the next day, I started feeling unmotivated, though not quite depressed yet. Since my boss hadn’t said “see you tomorrow”, rather telling me to contact him when I was feeling better, why shouldn’t I take another day off? Though I told myself I would see how I felt in the morning, I knew in the back of my mind my decision had already been made. Not wanting to tell my mom I was taking another day off, I decided I would wake up normal time and pretend I was going to work. I drove to the park behind my house to chill and listen to music/my anxiety tape while I waited for all my coworkers and mother to get off the roads. Then, I spent three hours driving around South Jersey with no actual destination in mind. I love driving, but this wasn’t supposed to be a leisurely escapade through main streets and lonely roads. This was foreshadowing for the lowest low I’ve felt in awhile. Flashback to last summer, when my depression went along unnoticed and untreated. I was so afraid and anxious to tell my boss that once soccer started I would not be able to work, I decided I simply would not, and instead texted him two days in a row saying I would not be coming to work that day. No explanations or excuses; I just would not be working, and in my last text I told him I would not come in again because soccer would be starting. Minus the vague text messages, I did the same thing I did this past Tuesday; I pretended to go to work but instead drove around aimlessly. When I told my best friend about what had occurred, she completely brushed it off. She didn’t get it. This was what I did when I was very depressed. I know now after talking to her she was trying to help by distracting me and discussing other topics, but I had to tell her this was not how to help me. I don’t know about other people, but when I am really depressed or upset about something, I don’t want people to distract me immediately. I don’t even necessarily want advice. What I really need and covet is sympathy and someone who will tell me it’s okay that I’m upset. I really would like someone who will ask questions; this will either show they are interested in what’s going on or it will help me look at the issue and work through it. After a similar conversation with my ex/guy friend, my depression became severe, and I’ve unfortunately spent the past few days feeling alone and melancholy. I barely talked to my friends and spent a lot of time inside my room, traversing the dark regions of Tumblr and listening to music that makes me sad. I excessively and genuinely cried for the first time in awhile. Luckily I conversed with my friends and therapist about this issue and, after this wonderful morning, am starting to feel sort of normal again. Though I know this intense change of mood is fleeting, I have some sense of hope for future happiness.
I have never been one to write heat-of-the-moment anything: no crazy Facebook statuses about an ex or backstabbing friend, no personal Tumblr posts other than what I have shared on here (which have been carefully edited and looked over, written in a state of calm thoughtfulness). Sometimes I text sort of heat-of-the-moment, but only to my two best friends and/or ex. So sharing a depressive, momentary flash of emotions with the random public is not something I have ever really done before.
In the past week or so, I felt I have not done anything right whatsoever. I have suffered through my own mistakes and procrastination. I have been extra anxious about going places and doing different tasks for school, college or my summer job. I have been relying heavily on my mother’s assistance, and because I have been so anxious and depressed I have begun to take my bad feelings out on her, being mean even when she is trying to help. One night I overheard her frustredly complaining to my father how stressed she is between my issues and her own, partially contributing her high blood pressure to all the stress.
I instantly felt terrible, and wrote the following on Tumblr: “i hate posts about depression that include people talking about how shitty their parents are and thats why they’re depressed because they do not feed my depression. I am not the victim, I am the problem. I take everything out on the people who love me and hurting them because it makes me feel better. I’m a terrible daughter, sister, friend. I’m surprised my parents haven’t had heart attacks from dealing with me. Maybe soon.”
A part of me almost values this transitory snapshot. It’s raw, emotional, and as much “me” as these posts that I write with a calm mind. Is there a reason I should not be posting these things? If they were about a specific person, yeah maybe. It would be an innapropriate way to deal with the situation, and issues are best dealt with through direct conversation. But these were just emotions concerning myself that I decided to express in an unedited fashion.
Is there something wrong with that?
Perhaps I should be discussing these feelings with someone rather than posting them on Tumblr (yanno, direct conversation to solve problems), but the whole cause of my depression was due to feeling like I was putting all of my issues on someone else. I suppose I could have called or texted my therapist (because that’s her job), but it was too late at night.
Or maybe we have, as a society, decided that rash displays of feeling are negative. Most people view those types of Facebook statuses as ridiculous, and some bold people even comment on said statuses and convey their derogatory opinion on emotion-sharing on social media. If you feel something negative, you are told to keep it between yourself and whomever it may concern. However, when it comes to depression, you may be the only one who is involved in the war in your mind (directly at least). So perhaps we are conditioned to bottle these emotions inside of us and not share it with others, let alone those who vaguely follow our daily lives through social media.
Am I digging too deeply into this?
It’s been a little over a month since my ex and I broke up. I would like to report a full recovery, but this of course is not the case. I’ve thought about him almost every day, and recently there have been some pretty bad nights. Additionally, I’m not quite sure how to equate the break-up into discerning my levels of depression; I cannot decipher if my depression is making the break-up more difficult or if the break-up is making my depression worse. Or maybe both.
However, I have recently noticed how the break-up has helped me become closer to my friends (again). When I was still dating my ex, he was usually the first person I turned to whenever I had an issue because I knew he would text back immediately. Now that I am dedicated to establishing (and enforcing) that post-breakup “space”, I find myself incessantly turning to my other friends for help. I am also spending more time with them, in and out of school, which has breached the distance between us.
For example, today in my lunch/lab technician period I was able to enjoy a 30+ minute conversation with my best friend about, among other things, the couples in her stories and our multiple OTPs (which of course destroys the purpose of a “ONE true pair”, but that hasn’t stopped anyone else). Last night we texted for about two hours, and we plan to take her prom dress shopping (hopefully with our other friend) this weekend.
I still miss conversing with my ex, and will be grateful when, after the pain has waned, I can talk to him again. However, I am thoroughly enjoying my restored closeness with my best friends, and really hope they sense it too. I also hope they realize how sorry I am that while going out with my ex we were not as close as we should have been.
Lenten Progress Report: Well, I caved, and I am quite disappointed in myself. Though I did not venture into the depths of Tumblr, I listened and sang various songs which perpetuate my bad mood. However, I will not be discouraged and remember God love sinners, and I can redeem myself.
Another bad religious joke (courtesy of my little sister): Hey, do you wanna build an ark. I know-a (Noah) guy.
Terrible Religious Joke of the Day: What does Jesus call his pet rock?
Inspired by Dauntlessly Cautious’s post, I have decided to give up the dark side of Tumblr as well as the trigger songs that are my go-to when I decline into a depressive state.
I had previously contemplated offering this as my Lenten atonement instead of the stereotypical and quite insipid sacrifice of chocolate or junk food, but hesitated because of the difficulty of this task. It’s quite a scary idea, letting go of this crutch which supports and cripples me during my especially dark hours. However, these triggers, being such a large part of my life (a pitiful sentiment, I know), are an indulgence and therefore an excellent offering to propose.
Furthermore, these forty days and nights of being Tumblr-and-trigger-song-free should assist in relieving my depression. Or at least that’s the theory. I suppose this is a hyperbolic statement, or maybe not, but it will be similar to an addict coming off of their drug or drink. The first few days will be dreadful, but if I am able to propel myself through those first few days, I am hoping it will become easier and eventually the habit will disappear.
It’s ten past midnight and I am supposed to go to soccer practice around 8am. But I went to our high school football game tonight and felt excluded, sad, and worried about my little sister. I came home and was overwhelmed by a wave of unanticipated depression. My boyfriend stopped texting, right when I needed someone to talk to, and I couldn’t muster the will to speak to anyone else, even my psychologist who told me I should text her if I start to think about suicide.
Which I did.
While driving my boyfriend and little sister home from the football game, I thought about how I could kill myself by crashing my car. Of course, I knew I would never-and could never-crash while they were in the car. And I’m too afraid to wonder if I would have done it if no one had been there to silently and unknowingly change my mind.
So I spent time on Facebook, then triggered myself more by scrolling through everything on Tumblr with the tag “depression”. Please never do this to yourself. Then I of course listened to Demons by Imagine Dragons, which describes a lot of what I’ve been feeling. And I cried a lot. And felt worthless. And felt alone. I desperately don’t want to die, but sometimes I feel like I don’t have the strength to continue living. I just want everything to stop, or at least stop hurting.
Then I googled something about suicide and found this comment on a forum under the question “what is the best way to kill myself?”:
There is no reason people should be forced to live when their lives are miserable and they want an exit.
Why would a stranger have to be so selfish to deny someone the right to leave this place?
And this killed me, because it just doesn’t seem right. Isn’t this like giving up? Like if a doctor were to say, “oh, you have cancer, there’s no reason we should try to help you”.
I just needed to release some of these thoughts, and I would very much like other people to comment on the italicized text above. Because I really don’t know what to think about it. To me at least, it feels terribly wrong.
Because I don’t want someone to leave me the right to leave.
Anyway, today I’m going to share a poem I wrote when I was feeling very, very sad. I was afraid to share it before because I don’t want anyone worrying, but reading it again sort of motivates me not to get back to that place. It’s pretty depressing and could be what I’ve learned from tumblr is called “triggering”, so you do not have to read it.
I actually wrote it as sort of a journal entry, so here goes nothing. I’m not particularly afraid of sharing it, though I am a bit nervous.
June 17, 2013 around 9:15pm
Self esteem is like a perpetual elevator for me. My levels of self worth fluctuate what seems like daily, going up then down, down a little more, then up again. Maybe sometimes the elevator gets stuck at a level for a bit, whether high or low, but it always returns to endless up-and-down-ing.
Don’t try to talk sense into me
It’s an impossible task.
Please don’t, you’ll unnerve me,
I won’t get it done fast.
I’m worthless as a human being,
Sure, smart, athletic, interesting.
But in the most important aspect
I’m inevitably failing.
I’m worthless to my fellow beings,
I cannot help them at all.
While they’re always there for me
I can’t help them when they fall.
So the basis of all relationships
Between lovers and family and friends
Is a concept I cannot grasp
And there’s no way I can pretend.
So please, you have to understand
You’ve done nothing wrong;
The problem, you see, is me
The problem I’m about to solve.
“Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward” (Victor Kiam).
Well, I can definitely say I’m moving forward. Oh and look my dog just starting throwing up in the house and, being home alone, I have to clean it. Brilliant.
Last night I was ranting, once again, about my indecision concerning quitting soccer (yes, I’m still brooding over it). I was pouring my heart out to my friend, who I’ve opened up to so much in the last couple months that he has become the person I automatically turn to. Essentially, the conversation came to him telling me that I was going to purgatory to have my eyes sewn shut with metal wire because I gain sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low. I’m going to be punished for my jealousy (his exact words were “It’s just something that is truly done to those like you”).
I have no clue what to do about that. I just started crying. At first I was scared because I thought that meant he was going to reject me for the rest of my life and that I was losing him. Now, I feel like he was a terrible person for scaring me and presenting it to me like that. He could have said it a different way. But then I started thinking about it, and I am a terrible person myself. A part of me realizes that sometimes I do take pleasure in seeing others lower than myself.
Not that I’m trying to excuse this behavior, but I think it relates to my low self esteem. I don’t want other people to be low; I just want to know that other people’s lives suck and that I’m not the only one going through crap like this. No excuse, but some sort of reasoning.
With all those conflicted emotions and crying, I didn’t go to bed until 3:30 am, waking up at 6 am for school. I still feel despondent and melancholy, and though I know it was caused by these events (I had been perfectly content all day yesterday), I’m not exactly sure what is making me the most insane and unstable about the issue. I probably could have fallen asleep around 1 am, when I had calmed down, but felt depressed and thought I kept hearing noises; fearing demons and evil spirits, I kept the light on and read or went on my laptop.
Tumblr eased the pain a little bit. It’s always the little things that reveal a minute but imperative ray of light. While perusing posts with the tag “David Tennant” (it’s hard not to be happier when thinking about that man), I found this:
As silly as that is, it made me feel better.
Nevertheless, going to school was a joy because I was both tired, which leads to crankiness and irritability, and hating myself as well as my “friend”, and, well, pretty much feeling anger, hatred, and depression in a jumbled mess. I still feel the same way. I almost started crying in lunch because I couldn’t recieve my yearbook; apparently they didn’t record that I bought one, so now I have to talk about this to my mom. It wasn’t a heavy issue, but it was on top of everything else, and it all piles up after awhile. After I blog I’m going to take a nap before either trying to sort through all of this or doing homework.
So, how can this day of depression have anything to do with my month of motivation?
Simple. Human emotions cannot be avoided: the month of motivation is not aimed to ignore all my issues and feign optimism. Life sucks sometimes, but you have to deal with all the problems or drown. Despite this terrible situation, I’m going to attempt strength, maybe find someone to talk to, and try to figure things out.
P.S. I don’t know if it makes a difference, but I apologize for my over-tagging.