May 1, 2009

• I suppose I'm doing this largely to make up for my shameless advertising of my last two posts for credits (I figure I ought to try premium out at least once; I can't imagine it has much I'd actually miss, though). So, one of my favorite topics to talk about - depression.

  If you didn't know, you now will know I have clinical depression. While never diagnosed by a doctor, you can only become down so many times before you question whether your failed attempts at trying may be failing for a reason. Chemically based, by my judgement.

  Now, everyone has their opinions of it. Not everyone has the same type. The thing that has always scared me was knowing someone out there has it worse than me. I hope they, at least, have the sense to see a doctor about it.

  Now, understand, I've kinda assumed I always was, to some extent, influenced by this. Even if it wasn't there at a young age, I drew a pleasure at the sad things in life, melancholy. This is crucial. Probably largely due to the depression, I have a deep love for the perverse and (to be utterly generic) depressing.

  This being said, I can't say I've always loved depression wholeheartedly. It's had it's terrifying moments. Thus far (though I believe I've moved past this entirely by now) I've had 4 major "dips", starting at Freshman year and ending either during Junior year or the end of Sophomore year (what I've confusedly - and before I had a full understanding of what I was going through - referred to as Depressions).

  My first Depression was mostly just a new experience. Lots of crying, lethargic, not wanting to do anything. I don't remember it as being that bad, for whatever reason. Bad, sure, and bordering on not functional. Yet a bit of crying and laziness isn't all that bad a thing to endure, particularly for a short period of time.

  They kinda just got worse as they went along until the climax, my fourth one. I almost forgot just how bad that one was. Picture this: den of the house, doors are closed, parents are doing whatever and sure son is working on homework, son is in the corner - homework is on the desk - and trying to sob uncontrollably but only able to break into short bursts of tears before falling into the habit of regaining control. You don't even want to know what that's mentally like. Cliché? Sure, but it was true. I mean, the mental ability just goes to Hell and you're so badly exuding the feeling of misery that you can't even manage thinking of how to do simple tasks. In retrospect, this screams "bad, nonfunctional situation" but what's one to do when they don't know better (or can't really tell a financially struggling family that has no empathy bone in their body)? And it's definitely one of the few times I was scared for my life because I actually didn't know if I would actually commit suicide or not (as apposed to just constantly thinking about and wanting death, though knowing you'd never do it).

  All that being said - I have to confess, I love aspects of depression.
  
  The morbidity it provides is riveting. I mean, there's just something fucking beautiful about searing sarcasm, the dark, the twisted (which can lend to the idea of insanity - Dark Knight, anyone (there's a reason I love Batman)?), and, most of all, something movingly emotional in the breaking or hurt of a person. We're most stunning when we're fragile - which, of course, is ironic. Because we like confidence, certainly. Yet there's something moving in our open rareness. Seen The Wrestler? His very being is moving in his emotion. There's something stunning by so big a figure and clearly hardened one that just cries. I admit, this was the largest reason I went to see the movie (plus my boyfriend at the time was paying...).
  
  While I have a deep love for nature, I can't forget the city. I love infrastructure, though the combination of the two is utter heaven. And yet, just the city alone is enticing. The steel, the bareness, almost, of it. The dark, the cramped place, the feeling of being closed in.
  
  (okay, not technically city, but the idea of manmade structures)
  
  And yet, that picture brings us exactly to the point. It's not all I'm looking at.
  
  Particularly for a picture such as this one, I can't help but get excited - but in the sense of this is the beginning of a novel. This is the setting - now what?
  
  So, the logical ending is happy, right? If this isn't the desire, but only the start - the end must be happy. And, in the question of life, I don't think anyone doesn't want a happy ending. But...I don't want to let go of the sad. In the right doses and the right parts - I like the sad.

  My planned out book deals entirely with depression, actually. Its very layout mirrors the mind set of the (at least myself) depressed. It's something that permeates your entire being, really. It becomes an identity for you, to an extent.

  But this identity slowly kills you everyday, makes you a pessimist, and (often) makes you quite suicidal. I've always been fond of saying, if not for the whole suicidal part and never being able to ever get rid of it, I'd make sure everyone goes through depression once because it opens your eyes to so much and creates an appreciation you won't find in many other places. Needless to say - this isn't healthy.
  
  So Emo, but it makes the truth of it all that more alarming. And I think that's the balance we're always trying to find - how do I enjoy living with what I have?

  My argument would be finding things which make you happy. Maybe it's just my depression leveling out to being controllable but I just see it as needing something to equal out the depression. Of course, that brings the question that if you had something for that long, would you just get bored of it and want to move on. I always used to (still do, from time to time) wonder if I could actually be happy with anything - and not get tired of it, wear it out, and just stay satisfied.

  Well, guess I have to. What other option? Well, there is one, but I closed the idea long ago. It seems we see the world. ...or, because I think 60% of people have it, that's why we see the world. But even still, for all its construction and all else, I'm enraptured.
  

  • 3:25 am
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