It’s Clear That My Depression Loves Me

IPhoto by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

I was awake in the middle of the night recently, and my depression wanted to talk.

It was sharing ideas with me about our future together. Depression was pleased that I was still alive. If I ended my life, depression would lose a cooperative host. And that wasn’t good for either of us. How could it keep needling at me if I wasn’t here?

Yet, on the flip side, I am still angry that my depression hasn’t been totally honest with me.

When I think of all I gave up to be with depression, I am so sad. I have invested years in my relationship with depression. All I can see is it takes, takes, takes, and then takes. And when I have no more to give, it goes on holiday without me. I can hear crickets in the empty space that my depression had filled. Each time I bottom out, I am up against the wall.

Knowing that I could be dead, and I am not, isn’t really a consolation prize.

My depression has a certain way it likes to do things. And I have learned over the years that sticking around as I piece my life back together is not the way depression rolls. My depression very much likes to skip all of the putting back together of my life. It prefers to sit that part out. Instead, it likes to sit by the ocean, margarita in hand, enjoying the waves and the summer breezes.

But as soon as I get things back on an even keel, my depression stops by for a visit.

I have discovered that my depression never “just “stops by. Once I notice it’s around, I am halfway to the bottom of the abyss. Before leaving, my depression always has an idea it wants to mention to me. Depression never insists, and never forces its will on me. Instead, it gently offers suggestions. At first, I may ignore the suggestion, at least outwardly. Depression’s ideas always seem a bit far out at first. And I don’t give them much thought.

But given time, depression’s ideas grow on me.

Soon, I am figuring out ways to make them work.  I find that I am giving serious thought to depression’s idea. More and more it becomes doable. Yes, there are always downsides to depressions ideas. But with enough time, I begin to see them not as negatives, but as challenges. I know that I can figure them out.

Soon the idea my depression suggested becomes my idea.

I get to see what I can do to make this idea a reality. The fact that depression had the idea first slips my mind.  I own it and conveniently forget that my depression was the first one to offer up the idea for consideration. The idea becomes mine in every way, and I set out to turn that idea into reality. There is something satisfying about each of the ideas, at least at first.

While they still have that new car smell, these ideas are fun to work with.

Time after time, I forget that after the honeymoon time with each idea, comes the reality of living out the idea. Only then do I see that I might have forgotten to think about one or two little things. And the more I see those things, the easier it is to see other issues I had ignored or downplayed.

At the time of my adoption of this latest, greatest plan, I had no self-doubt, no problems, or worries that I could report.

My depression couldn’t let me have something like self-doubt that would interrupt its master plan. Somehow, with each session of depression, I would ignore all of the red flags that would start popping up. Each time, I would need to be knocked in the head with these flags, for me to see the problems with my latest and greatest plan.

And all the while my depression is in the wings telling me I can do it, that I am in control.

My depression never wants to be the leader. It always lies to me about where an idea came from, lying about who thought it up. It never takes credit for the idea, instead making sure I know that it is my idea. For example, tossing out 40 years of planning and retiring early. Once I was read into this, I very quickly made the plan my own. After all, I can do anything and just because the last 100 or so ideas depression and I had didn’t pan out, there’s no reason to think this one won’t be the winner.

I haven’t mentioned secrecy yet.

The further into an idea I get, the less I want to talk about it. We’ll my depression and I work on it all the time. But having an outsider discuss what is now my idea, doesn’t sit well with my depression. My sphere of influence rapidly shrinks to one. And guess who that is? As a way of feeling all inclusive, I do mention at least once to my family and/or friends that I am planning this new grand scheme.

But that mention is just a CYA and allows me to avoid any real consideration of the new plan.

So, I am here with this new idea. I want to write a book about my life with depression. I have spoken to my website designer because I need certain things set up. My idea is to have readers make donations so I can afford to write the book. Outside of that, I have not actually spoken to anyone else about this idea.

My depression has heard the rumors about a book, but has invented all kinds of distractions, to keep my focus away from writing.

My depression reminds me of all the outdoor work I need to do now that it’s late spring. And it tells me that I need to have more blog posts and a better SEO for my website. My depression lets me know that I do not have enough page views and my backlinks are not always good.

Once all of this is fixed, then I can begin writing in earnest.

So, I have aligned myself with an unhelpful thinking style, that all or nothing thinking. IF I get all of these problems straightened out, THEN I can start to write my book. This form of thinking has been something depression has used many times in the past. Yes, I can write the book. It wants me to know I can do it.

But first, depression needs me to clean up all of the problems it sees

Once these are corrected, then I can proceed. And time after time, I fall in line with depression and do just one more thing. And then one more thing. This is followed by one more thing. Well, you get the idea. My depression is so adept at finding just one more thing, that I never get to the important stuff.

And my latest project, of writing my book, is just a casualty of my depression.

It would be a casualty if I didn’t finally recognize what was happening. And even as I work through the smoke and mirrors my depression has set up, I am working on my book. Progress is slow and the distractions brought out by my depression are many. Yet here I am, working on my third book. I don’t know how this will end, but I am dedicated to writing it.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress.