It’s been creeping around for the last few weeks and I did have a single, floating suicidal come to mind a while ago that made me want to write this.
I’ve been noticing lately that good feelings stopped sticking. I can still be social, I can lift my mood but the warning sign I see is when I instantly stop smiling when I turn away from a conversation. Good days feel lucky, bad days feel normal, like a bad life.
And it’s coming out. I’m less fun at work, I’m snappy and distant and struggle to care, I can’t tell if we have real problems or it’s just me.
I’m worrying about my relationship with Olivia as the depression makes me less affectionate, less fun, more needy.
And this is where suicide comes in. I start feeling like everyone is already sick of me being moody so I can’t allow myself to have bad days, I feel like since the best I can do is struggle to control my moods I’ll never get better and everyone will give up on and suicide seems like the only way I can communicate how much pain I’m in. I was in. The hopelessness of the future doesn’t bother me much anymore, I’m scared of being nobody, life and death is a seamless continuum, my dread is that real human connection is a delusion, and I’m in all this contextless pain that makes me behave in ways people think they understand as simply me being a jerk.
Even if I could explain it people would eventually get tired of me not getting better just like blaming an addict.
It’s so shitty in our power of positive thinking culture that having a single pessimistic thought makes me feel like I’ll never get ahead, never get better because only optimists succeed. And that if I can’t be nice all the time then I must not be a good person.
It is also a tough time realistically though, something Liv and I were talking about last night. I want to get out of my dad’s house and I could easily go stay at Ben’s or Jon’s but I feel like all progress on getting my own place will cease. Work is getting stressful, everyone seems overworked and under-appreciated and there’s finally some strain on the camaraderie. We have a great team and it’s a tribute to us we held together this long.
I don’t know if I should be eating chocolate and treating myself with kid gloves to feel happier or if I should be staying on diet and disciplined to feel control.
I don’t know if I should take time away from Liv to not drive her crazy and not torture myself with feeling like I can’t love her enough and I’m dragging her down. It’s hard to be around someone you know you love when you can’t feel love because all you feel is yearning and pain and sadness.
The paradox is writing, talking, and thinking about depression reinforces those pathways in the brain so there is something to be said for being social and choosing to improve my mood but when does it become phony, when am I covering up a pain I should be letting people know I need help with, when am I contributing to feelings of disconnect by forcing myself to be something I’m not just to be around people and not feel like a burden?
I’m noticing the difference between things that are fun and things that satisfy. Work is almost always fun but it’s not always satisfying. Playing in a band that isn’t mine is fun and the minute the fun is over I’m back to baseline. Nights of drinking are actually the best possible example; there are mornings I wake up satisfied, complete, having basked in friendships and music and nihilism. And there’s the other 4 times in a week I wake up after drinking and feel a bit of shame and annoyance about torching another night by running from the feeling that I should be doing something, I should have done something already.
Depression is the feeling that everything matters and I don’t or can’t care.
Happiness is the feeling that nothing matters but I can care, and derive meaning and joy from that caring.