Glimmer

Normally, I am not the one to jump on the celebrity death wagon (I don't even think that is a thing, but after seeing all the buzz about Robin Williams death, it seems to me it should be a thing.)  I just find it incredible to see all these responses to the death of someone none of these people actually knew.  Maybe it is because his work touched so many people, maybe it's because his death touched so many people... perhaps its a smattering of both.  I would venture to guess we all have some sort of experience with depression... either we've experienced it ourselves, or someone close to us has struggled with it.  So we all have a common place from which to draw empathy to a certain degree.

I have waged the inner battle with depression since my early teens. I spent most of my late teens and early twenties in a pharmacological haze of anti this and that meds.  At a certain point I decided the drugs, albeit prescribed, were actually doing me more harm than good.  So I went through the long and arduous process of getting off of them, which was no small feat, considering I was on enough drugs to tranquilize an elephant at the time and had been for a good long while.  In the decade or so since cleaning out my system I have had my fair share of lows, some frighteningly low, there have been moments (which have seemed never-ending) of what I can only describe as the darkest depths of desperation.  They are impossible to predict, difficult to manage and sometimes equally as difficult to climb out of.

It's a pretty tough subject to breech in conversation.. already plagued by the anxiety that seems to come as an added bonus with the depression I experience, thinking about telling someone or even thinking about trying to find the words to talk to someone about it drain every single of iota of energy out of me.  I don't want to be a downer to those around me. I don't want people to think I am crazy, or weak or any other of the labels we dole out to people dealing with the intangible issues of the mind.  There are moments when I can stand in a crowded room and feel as though I am the only one there... standing amongst the crowded chaos... hoping that someone or something will distract me from that black hole that seems to be sucking the life force out from within.

In the space between those dark stretches, I am entirely aware of the fact that those anxiety riddled depressive moments are just that- fleeting and temporary. BUT, when you're in it, the mind becomes a long, narrow, tunnel... and although it's path is linear, there seems to be no light illuminating an end.  Appearing as though the darkness will stretch on forever, the mind can be at once a powerful tool, and a debilitating enemy.  The more you try to talk sense into yourself, the faster the train car seems to travel down the track... with it's speed climbing, and what seems to be miles upon miles covered in milliseconds...reality begins to distort at this velocity.  The space between remembering what it feels like out of the tunnel and what it feels like in it begins to widen so much that the memory of what was is as intangible as the idea that this ride will pass.  Anxiety fuels the vortex, engulfing everything in it's path.

The swirling thought pattern that is depression is a lot like listening to a song that has begun to skip- at first it's a momentary interruption, and then it skips again, and I have that conversation with myself- it will pass, just let it play out. The skipping becomes more frequent.  The song, ever more mangled from it's original beat.  What may have started as a remix becomes a complete melodic mess, the familiar tune now an indistinguishable cacophony, and instead of reaching over and skipping to the next song, I sit there, entranced by the noise, unable to pull myself out long enough to recognize whats happening.  There's something about that song. It's draining and alluring simultaneously. It's deafening and soothing.  It's paralyzing.

At a certain point, there's a fleeting glimmer of hope.  A blip of light will illuminate the radar of the mind's eye.... and, depending on how strong that dark, powerful vortex has gotten, there is a chance it will be enough to alter that destructive thought pattern.  When it happens, its as if the track restarts, and I snap out of that maddening trance, like just as I was about to free fall into that super massive black hole, gravity grabs me, defying it's own laws, and hurls me back down to reality.  And I can't tell ya what triggers it, because if I knew, I would make it happen, I am not even sure it is a particular thing.  I know that my thought pattern changes, but I have yet to figure out how to make that happen of my own volition, and trust me, I have tried. I have tried every single fucking trick in the depressive handbook... exercise, eat right, sleep well, change your attitude, be around people, don't be around people, meditate, be grateful, stay in the moment, am I missing any?? Everyone's got advice, everyone wishes they could help. But the truth is, they can't. And sometimes, I can't help myself-to the best of my knowledge, it's as much a waiting game as anything else. Sure, I can check the shit off the self care list, but sometimes, none of that helps. And when all the normal tricks don't work, all I can do is white knuckle through, and hope like hell that I can remember that this time, like all the others times, it will pass.  'Shhh, baby listen. Hear the train?'