The Unfairness of Depression

Picture this: you come home after a long day of work excited to hop in the shower or just relax for a bit. Suddenly you think of something that went wrong earlier in the day. Maybe you made a mistake, or engaged in an awkward conversation with a coworker. Maybe you are ruminating over some constructive criticism your boss gave you at some point. Whatever it is, this thought persists. It’s invasive and disruptive and gets progressively worse with time. At some point this negative thought spreads throughout your body until it begins to physically weigh you down. As if somebody put a 20lb dumbbell in your head and let gravity take its course. This, for me, is depression. For people who have never experienced depression I assume that they are able to rationally engage with this negative thought. Perhaps they know for certain their boss values their work. They might recognize how they rarely make mistakes at work, and most likely nobody noticed. They can reason with their thoughts and move on. These thoughts are often distorted and not based in reality. For somebody with depression, however, they can be so powerful it can feel pointless to fight them. I’ve been at the mercy of these thoughts for as long as I can remember.

Depression is weird. It manifests in an almost paradoxical nature. On one hand you might be able to recognize that whatever negative thought you are stuck on is irrational or simply untrue. But on the other hand you actively feed into these thoughts. It’s like being sucked into a black hole. The more you give them attention the stronger it becomes. Eventually it becomes your objective reality. Your own brain has turned on you. So why do I call this unfair? Well it’s because I can be totally powerless and vulnerable to these thoughts and feelings. It seems to be the case that other people are not. I can have all the evidence stating the contrary to whatever negative thing I think about myself, but little by little this weighted perspective gains more traction. Over a long period of time my mood changes from neutral, to sadness, to helplessness. Eventually it’s full blown depression. Lately I’ve been asking why my head has to do this to me. I fundamentally do not get why these thoughts can so easily have power over me. Why am I so weak in the face of all this negative self-talk I’ve built up in 25 years? Obviously I cannot read minds but when I look at other people it seems they just aren’t as vulnerable to getting bogged down like this. And yeah I get it, depression is a complex biopsychosocial illness and there is no one true cause. But it feels unfair that I have a brain that can so easily lead me to believe I am a failure with no purpose in life. Of course I am not unique in this regard. But to this day I am hesitant to write about anything that I believe to be “unfair” in my life. I’ve obviously grown up with an immense amount of privilege and have been gifted countless resources and opportunities. However I am still human, and mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, black or white, young or old; true mental illness will find you at wherever you are. Of course some of the things mentioned can buffer the onset of depression or any other mental illness. But when it hits, it pierces through everything you thought was in your favor.

I do not wish a true depressive episode on anyone, even my worst enemy. As much as I would love for Jalen Hurts to be like “I suck at everything including football, I can’t play today coach” it’s an unfair and frankly miserable experience. Depression takes many forms and presents itself in different ways. This is definitely true for me. But whether I am demonstrating a form of functional depression, or simply unable to leave my bed, there is one common symptom I face every single time: weight. My head gets so heavy I quite literally cannot think straight. For people who’ve experienced depression you might understand that feeling of being trapped in your own body. It’s hard to explain but it’s like the real you is being suffocated by something inside the shell that is your actual physical appearance. Again, I know what’s true about myself, but it all gets buried in favor of simple narratives like failure, uselessness, and unworthiness. Eventually it becomes easy to obey your tyrannic brain. Everybody wants to confirm whatever narrative they deem to be true about themselves and this remains true in depression. Again, it’s a paradox. You want to confirm this negative, distorted view of yourself even though you can recognize it’s unhealthy and sometimes deadly. I can be fully aware I need to challenge this narrative at whatever cost, but for some reason I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to believe what my mind is telling me because then I’ll be living in what I think is my objective reality. I think this is why loved ones of those who are depressed are so shocked and frustrated by what people with depression say about themselves. Parents can think the world of their child and easily identify all their amazing qualities, but they are met with statements that probably feel backwards. Can you imagine a child who is maybe a straight A student or a star athlete telling their parents how they think they are a complete failure? How they think they have no purpose in life? And they genuinely believe this. It’s a complete 180 from the parents perspective and I’d imagine it’s heartbreaking to listen to their child talk about themselves in this way. I’ve been on both sides on multiple occasions. I’ve had friends who struggle with depression and I try to give them all the evidence about how their thoughts are lying to them. I could tell them how everybody loves them, or note their accomplishments, but they can’t hear it. Obviously neither could I. I can see the weight in their eyes preventing them from internalizing what I am saying. The unfortunate reality is you cannot convince somebody out of depression. In fact, trying this will most likely lead to that person resenting you.

All-in-all having this experience sucks. It breaks my heart to see other people who are currently suffering from depression because I understand it. I can literally see it in their eyes and hear it in their voice. I can feel it. For some reason it is easy for us to default to negativity and I don’t know why. Chalking it up to genetics feels like a cop out because a lot of depression has to do with how we make attributions towards ourselves. To explain attributions consider this scenario: two people fail the same test and elicit totally different responses. One person may say “I know I am smart I just didn’t study hard enough” while the other would claim, “No matter how hard I try I fail at everything.” This is the simplest example of attributing things/events to your own self-concept, but hopefully you get the point. The process is often automatic and persistent in people with depression. Again, it’s just a default. I remember when I was around 8 or 9 my soccer team had a game against one of the better teams in the league. All I know is I said, “What’s the point of trying if we know we’re going to lose?” I don’t remember if we won or lost, but even at an age where I should’ve just enjoyed the game I instead automated to doubt and hopelessness. Obviously as I grew more self-aware it became easier for me to attribute certain events as an indictment on myself rather than the surrounding circumstances. I’ve unfortunately gained a lot of practice over the years, and despite a lot of therapy there are times when I can’t help but think of myself as a failure or unworthy. It sounds dramatic I know, but this is where the disconnect lies. I’ll be having a normal day and suddenly this cruel, dictator of a brain takes over and I am left helpless. It’s like I become a different person. I don’t know why or how it happens, it just does. This post was supposed to be more about the general experience of depression but I’ve shifted to my experience because, well, this blog is for me primarily. If somebody can relate then that’s just an added bonus.

To this day I can recall the first time I ever experienced thoughts about suicide. I was in 5th grade and I think I had just gotten in trouble at school (for the 100th time). I was sitting on a stool with my head down talking to my mother in the laundry room. I don’t remember what led to me saying this, but I remember clearly that day saying, “Well maybe I just shouldn’t be here anymore.” Needless to say my mother was horrified. 5th grade was really tough for some reason. I remember showing up to school just really sad and unsure why. I went on meds which helped, but it was still easy to think poorly of myself. I remember driving back from school one day once again extremely sad without any conscious explanation. I’ll never forget the brief moment of relief I got when a song came on the radio that’s chorus was bolstered by a saxophone. The melody was beautiful and perhaps that was my first experience identifying music as a coping mechanism for depression, or anything. I never found that song and I remember being sad because I figured I’d never hear it again. I guess I was right. Depression has been on and off with me throughout my life. Sophomore year of high school I became alone in the house after the final sibling had left for college. Before I discovered the best way I knew to cope (getting high everyday) I was once again sad and sluggish. I had so many friends, many of whom I am close with today, but I still felt alone for some reason. The summer entering my senior year depression (and anxiety!) kicked my ass and I walked into the first day of school having lost 20lbs unintentionally. In both universities I attended isolation sprung depressive episodes. But being alone was at least a sufficient reason for my sadness. When I am isolated I can recognize that I am just lonely rather than my sadness being due to one of my many distorted self-attributions. It must be said that I have had a lot of time without experiencing any form of depression or sadness. I couldn’t recognize it at the moment but there have been really long periods of happiness and stability. But as I’ve said depression is persistent and has the potential to be fatal and that is part of my story. Content Warning: SI.

A while back me and a friend (who also experienced depression) would joke that if we weren’t happy at 25 we would kill ourselves. I know jokes about suicide are not OK but honestly when you’ve had the experiences I’ve had it’s just a way of coping. It was indeed a joke but as is this case with a lot of jokes there was an element of truth to it. For the longest time I could never see myself past the age of 25. I just couldn’t see myself growing up and thought I was incapable of being an adult. Maybe that’s more normal than I realize but I kinda just thought I wouldn’t be here at that age. Well here I am. Even in my darkest days I’ve never made an attempt, I’ve mostly just thought about it. When it got bad there have been times I at least considered how I would do it. My stint in the hospital 6 months ago left me broken and I told myself I could always overdose on fentanyl. This only lasted two or three days but it was dark. However, it wasn’t scary, it was oddly comforting. I think because I knew I wouldn’t have to climb up another hill in life. Death would ironically grant me the freedom to not have to recover from addiction and depression. I could just be done. Thankfully I was in treatment surrounded by nurses, and eventually I became stable. I will not pretend to know the experience of somebody who is chronically suicidal. I’ve met people who struggle with persistent suicidal ideation and they are truly some of the strongest people I know. I can only imagine the daily war they face with themselves and the strength they demonstrate should not go unnoticed.

Despite all the progress I’ve made I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified of my depression returning. It’s as if I am constantly looking over my shoulder as I run from this monster that’s been after me for decades. I can’t predict the future, I don’t know what life holds, but I’ve accepted the fact that at some point I probably will experience depression again. That is ok. I don’t want to speak it into existence but given my history it makes more sense than not. All I can do is prepare and practice. I really don’t want this post to be sad. It probably already is, but my intent is to give light to the inner workings of someone who comes across as energetic, upbeat, and fun. I am those things but sometimes I don’t see myself that way. Sometimes I fall victim to my own brain which can be hellbent on betraying me. To anybody reading this who is currently feeling that weight, I get it. Just know that it’s not forever. And as somebody once told me: “At least hold onto the belief that things can get better.” They can and they will.