Living Through My Depression, and Learning Why

News flash: Depression sucks, and while some people use it for a fleeting emotion, for those of us who deal with it on a monthly, weekly or even daily basis, depression has a habit of changing who you are and how you respond to things.

This blog started off as my venting point, when the days were too tiresome, or the moods too intense. I vented, but still kept some of the pain inside, locked away from others out of a form of protection. When I have my really bad days, I would never wish the feelings on anyone, not even my worst enemy.

While I kept a lot of it inside, it was hard to really relate to anyone. Lenny doesn't really understand it, and when I recently had a bad week, I unintentionally took it out on him. He sat me down, and tried to have me explain what was going on. My attempt to explain that I didn't care about life at the moment didn't fly over too well.

I know there are a lot of resources out there, explaining depression and how it affects people, especially since the passing of Robin Williams. As a person with depression, I found them to be both helpful and inspiring, knowing that there are people out there going through the terrible darkness with me, knowing I'm not the only person who feels this way. Trying to explain that feeling to someone who has never felt it is like explaining the terrifying feeling of being stuck in that soul damaging blackness to someone with a flashlight. While my brain understands that the depression is a chemical imbalance of sorts, and that the thoughts I have are irrational and hurtful, I cannot help but have them. To explain to someone who has only had situational depression that there are days when getting out of bed is an extremely difficult thing, or where continuing to live seems pointless, even knowing there are things to look forward to to make what's going on a reason to continue living.....its like having third degree burns and a person who had a really bad sunburn once telling you just to put some aloe on it, that it will clear up real quick. While in that comparison, there's actual physical evidence that the 2 aren't similar, the comparison of the depressed vs someone who had a rough patch is just as ridiculous.

I have a lot to look forward to in my life right now. I have a good job, I'm working towards renovating a house that I will start renting from my grandmother, and I'm getting my life in order so that I can take care of the people who are important to me. Even aware of all of those things, on the bad days, my brain tells me that none of those things matter. In 100 years, who is going to remember that some ginger 25 year old fought through life's battles to make her own way? My brain tells me that nothing matters and life would continue on without me with barely a hiccup.

I am not suicidal. I don't actively want to die. But sometimes I don't want to be alive anymore. I have to force myself to do things normal people hardly think about: eat, bathe, clothe myself, go to work, sleep.

All of those things have taught me a lot about who I am as a person. They have become a part of me that, while making my life difficult, have also, in my skewed opinion, made me a much better person than I would otherwise be.

Even in the deepest throes of my depression, I have only been legitimately suicidal once, and it was that one time that truly helped define what I consider important in my life.

My Junior year of high school was the second most difficult year I have ever had. It was when my depression really kicked into overdrive and almost threw me over the edge into oblivion. Even with everything I have gone through since, I still cringe to think of everything that went wrong, and the one thing that could have gone wrong that went so very right.

I couldn't deal with all of the stress and how difficult my life at the time was, and started thinking of the ways that I could end my life. I had finally decided upon taking a bunch of pills, and was carrying them with me as I went through what I intended to be my last day. I went to my classes, did everything that was expected of me, so as to not arouse suspicion from anyone. I went to swim practice after school, where I was one of the coach's assistants. After school, I hung out with a friend, who had noticed something was wrong, but didn't press the issue. When I got home, I worked on writing a note to leave.

About halfway through it, another friend, who was having a difficult time at the time, called me, bawling her eyes out. I put the note and the pills in my backpack, consoling her until she had to get off the phone. She thanked me for being there for her, and said that she didn't know what she would do without me. Up until that point, I honestly didn't think that anyone would miss me when I was gone. I honestly didn't think that I made a whole lot of a difference in people's day to day lives. I went to bed and woke up the next morning, realizing that I had to make sure the people around me were ok before I could die.

I carried those pills and note around for 2 weeks. I stopped feeling the need to use them after a week and a half. I stopped carrying them around because a friend found them and demanded I flush them immediately. The suicidal urge passed, and even though I have not wanted to continue life many times since, I have always remembered that I am necessary in a lot of people's lives.

Going through all of that has helped me know a very important part of my character: I am always going to be more worried about other people than myself. My purpose in life at this point is to make sure that those around me are safe and cared for. Maybe that isn't the best quality to have, but it is who I am, and what got me through the hardest of times. It is what pushes me forward when things seem too difficult. It is what makes me awesome, and useful, and needed. It is what makes me, me. And I'm more glad to have that knowledge than a perfect, carefree life.

I don't wanna see tomorrow, but I don't wanna die

This week has been a lot of confusing, and heartache, and in general very difficult to get through. I had very few hours at work, I went to the last show of my favorite local band and I accepted that the guy I care about will never care about me the way I care about him. It wasn't all bad, though. I got to sleep for once, got to see a lot of people that I haven't seen in what seems like forever and I found someone who is willing to accept that I don't want to date, just have fun.

That being said, I also had 2 days this week where I woke up and honestly wished that I hadn't.

If you haven't paid attention to almost anything I have ever written, I have struggled with depression since high school. I've wanted to be dead a lot, and as morbid as it seems, I've thought of how many different ways I could die without having to actually kill myself. The past 4 years have been especially hard for this, because I had so much loss and what seemed like no gain at the time.

The last few months of last year, I didn't have more than a couple days where I hated life, and those days were based on events that happened those days.

I have found that I am worse at dealing with not wanting to live when I am alone in my apartment, seeing the way I live my life and not knowing why I still bother. I know that people need me, and I know that purpose helps me through a hell of a lot of the bad times, but when I am alone and don't feel like I am needed? Those are the worst times for me. That's when my brain goes into overdrive, reminding me that it wouldn't really matter if I overdosed on some pills, or fell asleep face-down in the bathtub, or starved to death, or had a heart attack, or fell asleep driving to crash headfirst into a semi. Those are the times that terrify me when they've passed, not because of the terribleness of those thoughts, but because of the calm clarity that comes with them, the realization that my life hasn't made a whole lot of an impact on the world as a whole.

Those are the times I have to force myself to see the small picture, to see that I have family and friends who would be, if not devastated or upset, at least severely inconvenienced by my death. I force myself to look through pictures of better times, even if those times are bittersweet now. I call a friend, or visit someone who matters to me, even if just to say hi, or not be alone.

The people who have helped me through these past 4 years know who they are, for the most part. They've seen the tears and heartaches I hide from most others. They've been there through all of it, and while some distanced themselves from what they couldn't deal with, all of them made life better just by being around.

This is something that I know I will always have to deal with. Even if everything were going perfectly, and I started up medication for it again, I would still have days where I don't want to live. The only difference between high school version of me and the present day version of me, is that the present day version of me is a lot happier on the days that aren't terrible because of the people I have found in the meantime, which honestly does make all the difference in the world.

Because I'm too chickenshit to say it out loud.

You're my best friend. And I love you. Those two things make everything much more difficult.

You know everything about me, and still put up with me. You tell me to suck it up when I'm just whining about things that don't matter. You remind me to take care of myself as far as food goes. You take care of me when I feel like crap, and you don't (seriously) bitch about me being so needy. You make me smile when I'm pissed at the world and don't want to smile. You hold my hand when I cry, and just knowing that you're there helps me feel better.

You say that you just do what you do because its what friends do for each other.

I don't want to lose you as my best friend, and that's increasingly difficult because I can't not love you. It isn't a choice.

I would rather spend a night in with you, watching movies or playing video games, than do almost anything else with anyone else. Hell, if I do go out, I spend most of the time wondering if you're ok, and trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you.

God it sounds so stupid to put it that way. It sounds like some stupid tween with puppy love. I can't accurately describe how it feels. The closest that I can come to it is that when you're around, I don't feel like I have to prove myself to you. I don't have to be anyone else. I can be me, and that is just fine. And when you're around, I realize how good it feels just to be me, no pressure.

Maybe that's incredibly selfish of a reason, but its better than the cliché that's also true. When you're around, I want to be better, to do better, because that's what you deserve. Even though you've made it clear you just want my friendship, I try my damndest to be a better friend.

That's why I can't actually say this to you, and though I know you will find it at some point, I just hope that point is later rather than sooner.

The time you stayed here was indescribable, mostly because it was all over the place. At first, it was just fine, then I got stupid because you were being stupid. I was happy for you as a friend, while at the same time it felt like it was stabbing me every time. You didn't like how Lestat treated me, and were very clear that you thought that it should stop. We both stopped being stupid, and that left us mostly with only each other for company. We didn't kill each other. We actually worked alright together, but my stress levels meant I snapped at you unnecessarily at times, and you just let it go.

People will probably always think we are more than friends. The truth is, I will never understand because you don't explain, or worse you explain in circles that just leave me confused.

To be honest, it isn't going to matter. Your feelings don't change mine. I attempt to keep them in until I feel I'm going to burst, then I have to vent them here, or somewhere.

To be honest, you are right that our friendship is more important, but friendships don't always get ruined because of feelings or relationships. Sometimes, it makes things better, and the risk is worth it.

Today was a bad day.

It wasn't bad because of anything in particularly. Today I woke up, and honestly felt that the world would be better if I were dead. Days like today are bad because I don't have someone around, someone who will remind me that I am needed and loved. I have to remind myself that I need to live because of my siblings. I have to remind myself that dying doesn't solve anything.

Randomness, because I can.

Saw this on one of my work trips, not 100% sure where though.

Where a bunch of songs took my head to a difficult place while driving

So I, of course, did the sensible thing, and found a bunch of quotes that explained my headspace.

You know, unrequited love is very difficult? It's not just having this one-sided love of someone who's far away. Being close, talking daily, liking a guy who's constantly near me is harder than it would be under different circumstances.
-Park So Hee

True regret is knowing you missed your only opportunity to be simply a good friend to someone that was exactly like you.
-Shannon L. Alder

My heart had been touched by him, battered by him, cradled by him as the days passed. He was cruel without meaning to be yet he was kind, and I needed him too much to let myself want him
-Mackenzie Herbert, Chasing Trains

To me, you were more than just a person. You were a place where I finally felt at home.
-Denice Envall

Only those relationships last forever that do not have a name.
-Ram Mohan

A challenge met(kinda), with unexpected results

A while back, Lenny challenged me to have Eddie stay a weekend with me, so that I could get a tiny feel for how we might work. Of course he intended me to do the same with Lestat, as though Lestat was ever a real option, but that is beside the point. Eddie had a couple days off in a row this week and stayed with me Sunday night until Wednesday morning.

Unexpectedly, it wasn't really something that felt good. Not to say that it felt bad, it just....felt weird in more a bad way than a good way. Coming home and him being there was nice because I got a hug and kiss, but that's about it. I just didn't care that he was there.

Cuddles were nice, but again, somewhat tiresome. He couldn't sleep well because I snore, and I felt bad that he didn't sleep well. He also sleeps normal people hours, which doesn't work so well with me most of the time. He fussed that I slept most of the day and was up all night the night before, though I knew I was going to get the van and work all night.

We sat and watch Netflix when I was home, for the most part. That was ok, because its easy, but also meant we didn't really talk a whole lot. He also let me make all the choices as far as movies/shows and noms.

He came away from his stay feeling the best he had felt in a while. I really didn't think it was anything that special. I mean, yeah, I had someone to cuddle and snuggle, but everything else was things I could do with anyone. Not all that big a deal.

I thought that this would show me how awesome it could be, giving this a chance. Now, I'm remembering the bits of our past relationship that were, and still are, less than ideal:

-He never fights me, ever, on anything. He always just lets me have my way. As a human, I make mistakes, and someone always acting like I don't just annoys me. No, actually, it pisses me the hell off.
-He is more indecisive than I am, which takes some doing as anyone who knows me can attest to.
-He doesn't challenge me to do anything. He is less ambitious than I am, and doesn't want adventure as much as comfort and ease.
-He sees me as his everything when we date. He would rather sit doing nothing than be social and go out and about, together or separate. 

I love him, but loving someone doesn't make them right for you, or you right for them. I don't have the strength to deal with trying to get him kick started into something that is better as far as career and social growth goes.

The issue is, I don't want to hurt him again. I don't think I will ever know what to do with this situation.

That moment when.....

We talked. This blog was something that I (admittedly stupidly) thought was free from his eyes, a sounding board where I could figure out my thoughts without worry of judgement.

He doesn't judge, but he did find it. And talking things out was probably the best thing we could have done.

We talked about why I let Lestat use me, why I'm terrified to try with Eddie, and the reasons we both already ignore the feels for him. Friendship like ours is too important.

Me falling asleep before posting this, probably terrible. But that's what happens. All the time exhausted because of a job that wants me dead.

Being Thankful

This year, I have spent a lot of time just trying to stay afloat. I have been overemployed and overworked, with too many jobs to find time for the people I love.

However, I know that through all the pain this year has caused, I have so much more to be thankful for than years previous, because I have actually managed to keep a place of my own, get a car, and try my hardest to show the people who matter to me that I care. I have lost important people, but become much closer to people I never was before.

I still have the Lady around, which was touch and go for a while, and have let go of a lot of anger that I have been holding onto since I was 18.

This year, I am thankful, because I have found myself through the tough times, and will continue, hopefully, to grow into the person I want to be more as I keep going.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Whatever it is, its just sitting there laughing at me and I just want to scream

What now?

Now, I ignore all of it and just work on being a good friend. I'm not meant to be more than that.

The Door

Yesterday, I came home, and the door was locked, and I wanted to cry, because I knew he was with her again.

I have no right to be upset by that. He isn't mine. But no matter how much my brain says it, my heart protests, having claimed him as its own ages ago.

He's the one person I can talk to about almost anything. He teases and picks and talks things through and consoles. He is there when things are rough and I can't deal, to yell at me until I get my head out of my ass. But I can't talk to him about this. The issue is too personal, hurts too much, and he doesn't want to talk about it any more than I do.

Lestat keeps calling him my boyfriend, not realizing how very cruel he is being. He doesn't want that from me, never has. Even when we were physical, he was never how he is with girls he is interested in. It hurts and I have no idea why. I have no idea why I don't rate higher in his book than friend, but I can't do anything about it.

Today, I came home, and the door was unlocked, and I wanted to cry, because I knew he was still here, waiting for me.