Hello, darkness, my old friend

The opening line of Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence comes to me often. Hello, darkness, my old friend ...

This old song no doubt means many things to many people. And that opening line means something to me as well. It means, "Here we go again." 

It's hard to fully express what it means to be prone to depression. Looking back on my four decades of life, I see a lot of prominent themes. But the thick vein of depression runs through it all. I don't know when it took hold, but it's been there as long as I can remember. It is an old friend of the worst kind. 

I don't want to be depressed. I don't choose this. I don't want to waste endless days simply wishing I could climb out of whatever funk I'm in. All the people who have come and gone in my life I certainly can't blame for this. I'm depressed, no matter who is in my life. Sure, certain circumstances haven't helped. And alcohol just made the whole thing worse. How I was treated by people reinforced how I felt. And I turned on myself all too often. My divorce has added to my depression in a very real way. To clarify, it wasn't my actual divorce that plunged me back into this depression, it was the aftermath of the divorce. It was the way I was treated after the fact. It was all about adding insult to injury, salt to the wound, however you want to say that. And, for a while, I sat immobile, unable to defend myself.

Depression is more than a disease. It's a demonic juggernaut, a constantly swirling kaleidoscope of pain and frustration and coldness and hopelessness, oftentimes covered up with an "I don't care" nonchalance. Just when you think you've got it licked, it comes at you from a different direction. It's like a pack of dogs constantly roving, looking for your weakness, waiting for you to let down your guard, following you everywhere. 

 
There's really no way to adequately describe depression to someone who hasn't felt it their entire lives. It's evil. It's pervasive. It's not what those infected by it want for their lives. There's a lot of envy for those who live their lives without it, trust me. 

But, as I've come to realize, much of life is choices — little choices that little by little effect change. They build upon each other like sediment and press down over time to create something solid. Can I — by simply choosing something else — change my depressive nature? 

I no longer drink, which is a good thing. Alcohol is a depressive that only adds to depression. I no longer listen to much of the music I used to, which is also a good thing. Much of the music I listened to reinforced my "poor me" attitude. But, what can I do about the unending tiredness, which I believe is a symptom of depression? It's hard to effect positive change when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and disappear. And how do I make my body sleep when it refuses? Is it too tired to sleep? Do I need a rest of a different sort, more than just physical? 

It's pretty clear God has put me in a position to rest at the moment. So I will rest as much as I can. I feel the next step in my life will take a lot of energy, so I need to build up a reserve. I've been running on fumes for too long. But, the good thing about resting now, compared to before, is I feel there is nothing chasing me. I've dealt with everything God has brought to my attention. My soul is at ease, and I know God will take care of me. There's something very nourishing in that thought. 

No, I don't know what the answer is. When depression gets ahold of me, it's like the whole world goes away and it's just me and it, locked in a hateful embrace. Depression is a jealous lover, separating us from our significant others, our families, our jobs, our joy. But depression is a friend and lover I don't need. One thing that seems to help is being active and proactive. By taking action, I take control. By making choices, I form my future (at least in my head). That sense of control often cancels out depressive feelings. I'm not a control freak. On the contrary, I'm all too often very passive. Making choices — smart choices — may help me bridge the gap to the other side of this depressive episode.

I've stood up for myself in many ways in the last few years. I've been pushed around and pushed down too many times. It's not right, and I don't deserve it. I can say the same to you, depression.