On Depression

On Depression

Depression, the emotional memory aggregator, seeps in slowly through every tiny crack in my life.  At first its just a bad decision, like taking a cab when the bus was 1/4 of the price.  From there it builds.   Though I’m still maintaining happiness most of the time, I begin to notice that things just don’t go right here and there.  There is still enough going well that I don’t realize I’ve been captured and well on the dissent.

I start second guessing myself out of a vague feeling that I’ve been wrong a bit too much lately.  Then Indecision creeps in under my nose followed by his best pals: Confusion and Doubt.   The Depression Gang’s whispers and mockery between my ears get louder and louder as they dig through my memory files.  One by one they pull out all the photos they’ve taken of themselves during my life time.  Like parasites, they high-jack my eyes and ears to match their horrid memories to my outer world.  I see strangers with characteristics of all the people I’ve ever disliked in any way, actors on screen resemble friends who pushed me away, song lyrics stab at my heart with remembrance of precious people I’ve lost, and any misstep a reminder of anything I’ve ever set out for and failed to achieve.

In defense, my boundaries and walls strengthen with hot showers, funny movies, and positive meditations.  To draw me out, they tease me like I’m a hungry puppy and they have beef jerky.  They allow me to walk just up to the gates of my goals, so I can see what’s on the other side then slam the gates in my face. Licking my wounds, I try another gate, only to be once again denied and made to feel a failure.  After a while, I don’t see the gate keepers as real people, instead I see the evil possessing them; like puppet masters, pulling strings to make my life as teasingly miserable by using as many people around me as they can.

The process repeats all while their memory attacks increase.  I begin to see a pattern and the problem, I begin to believe, is me.  The world doesn’t like me and as proof, the memory movie of all the negative events of my life is now playing on repeat.  It won’t stop playing.  I can press pause and get relief through positive interactions that have nothing to do with my main goal

I can buy happiness, through hobbies and nice meals with friends, but the world won’t pay me happiness.  Not with depression around my neck.  He has convinced me of my unworthiness and I begin to simply believe it.  I give in and angrily take the meager scraps he has to offer.  But he will still make me wait, make me jump through hoops and hurdles all because I need something and am working hard to obtain it.

As my walls and boundaries erode, I fall back into the indebted world.  The light at the end of the tunnel above me gets smaller and smaller as Depression makes me wait until he says its time for me to climb myself back up to the normal world.

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