When the Bitch Shows

(*Warning, heavy blog ahead*)

Depression, as with many life experiences, has a way of rearing its ugly head at the damnedest moments. I have been combating a series of depressive episodes since maybe the end of February. Actually, it’s been more like 42 years now, but the latest bout dates back five months.

As usual, I take it upon myself to drag my sorry ass out of it and into a new light, where sunshine and lollipops are canon fodder. The cool thing about it is: years of introspection have yielded a better understanding of myself and those around me. So the exercise is certainly valuable.

I’ve been recovering slowly in the past few months. I feel it has been slower than usual, although the hit itself wasn’t quite as intense.

My usual pattern is three or four days of dark misery, with recurring but thankfully passing suicidal thoughts, and as a bonus bright sunshine makes me physically ill. I tell myself that tomorrow will be a better day.

This time the darkness has lasted weeks on end, but not anywhere nearly as intensely as my usual hit. It is rather insidious since I don’t feel quite so bad I hardly think to motivate myself out.

It’s impossible to describe really. I guess it feels like I’m walking on a tightrope. I’m still moving forward, but I feel like a single false move will send me into the depressive abyss.

And it is tempting.

The urge to fight comes out through my warrior side, and keeps me on the wire. But if I was outright down, then my trouble-shooter side could recover me in three or four days and be done with it, at least for a little while. Choices indeed.

Now, as I am going through this, two very good friends of mine, completely unrelated to each other, are experiencing life confusion in one case and outright existential angst in the other. The former is 19 and, the latter is 39, if I remember correctly. I would summarily explain this away as coming up on a decade barrier for each, but I’m not so damned sure.

Maybe it’s something in the water, or in the air? The weather maybe? Or maybe it’s in the socio-political status of our culture? Economic doom looming? So many external factors that hold invisible sway over our lives.

Or maybe we’re all just tired. Tired of fighting with ourselves, fighting our inner demons, continuously shoring up our defences against our perceived inadequacies. It’s a game really, with self-confidence hanging in the pot, assurance the ante. Bluffing is our own selves, and bother, we cannot clearly see our hand.

Vision and clarity are required to evaluate what we have. Discovery becomes the lifeline. The plan comes later, but knowing we have one makes us feel better. It makes us feel in control. And that’s what it’s about.

The problem is that control isn’t the solution. Being ourselves and being true to one’s self is.

But who, exactly, the hell am I?

Well, I have been asking myself that question for many years now and working towards the answers. I have many adjectives and qualifiers, and some adverbs as well. I cherish them all and they make me feel better about who I am. Those answers I do not like, I get to change! Hell, I can’t lose! What a game, what a game! I’m liking this particular game.

In the meantime, I still feel down, but there is always hope… because I’m winning my game. Woohoo.

Now, how do I impart this wisdom upon my two friends?