I'm not going to lie, I hesitated before I posted it, especially to the almighty Facebook, where many people, including friends, family, employers, and law enforcement patrol the aspects of our lives.
But then I remembered who I am and that I don't give a fuck what people think about me, and despite what people in my past have accused me of, including family members, friends, ex-girlfriends, etc, this shit is not an act but a legitimate part of who I am and what I experience...in fact, I have been told a lot about myself from a lot of people that don't know shit about me or what I deal with.
I don't have a choice in this, and I certainly don't put up fronts, make up things, embellish, or exaggerate to try to fit in or somehow make myself sound like something I'm not (I'm still not sure what kind of fucked up mind it takes to think that discussing depression is an attempt to get attention...that one baffles me to this day). I have never fit in and I never will fit in, and that's a straight up fact. I lost the desire to even try years ago.
The thing is, I have lost friends and family to the very thing that I fight every day...and I don't mean they simply have cut ties...I mean they have fallen to this thing by either committing suicide directly or due to toxic behaviors, such as drug overdoses, that were brought on by trying to cope with this demon. There have been more than a few nights I have come closer than I would like to admit to joining them.
But one thing that has done more damage and put me closest to the brink of the abyss was keeping it inside and not talking about it. For the first 20 years of my fight, I had no choice but to do just that, which is how I know it's a death march. The only question is how long you can sustain it before you break...and it will break you. I had a therapist tell me long ago that depression is a terminal disorder if it's untreated...meaning that it will push you take your own life.
Sun Tzu says in the Art of War says, If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. What I write is my attempt to make sense, to know myself and to know my enemy, which for me and others who deal with these types of things, are one and the same.
For me, I have found a militant approach gives me the best advantage. So I have tried to come to know myself and know my enemy. I have examined this demon from many, many angles, at various stages, both from the inside and from the outside. I have written hundreds upon hundreds of pages worth of journal entries examining my thoughts, my feelings, my behaviors and it is because of that I am able to bring the insight I bring.
But it has also caused me to be very harsh, rigid, hyper vigilant, and disciplined. I'm not an easy person to be around, I am intolerant of many things for no other reason than I cannot afford to let my guard down for one moment against this thing. But do not confuse that with callousness. In my own fucked up way, I do care.
In Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" he states that we humans have a need to ascribe meaning to our suffering. Deep down, I need to help others with their fight as much as I can, if for no other reason, than to give my own depression meaning. If I didn't, all the things I said before this would be pointless, and that is more depressing than the depression.
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