The Spiral

I've seen a lot of posts about Anthony Bourdain today. Much of it has been stories about his loving spirit, his generosity, his kind nature; qualities that are the hallmark of the best among us and qualities that make his suicide all the more confusing and heartbreaking. I read similar stories about designer Kate Spade after her death was reported just two days ago. Neither of them showed any signs of a problem according to their loved ones, so there was no opportunity to prevent such an awful thing from happening. It's been a heavy week on that front, on top of everything else going on in the world, which... yeah.

A lot of social media posts and articles about these two individuals have included the phone number to the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, and encouragement for people experiencing depression to reach out and seek help, to remember that they're not alone, to talk about it.

OK. Well. Depression doesn't really work like that, at least not for me. I can't reach out for shit when I'm feeling depressed. You think I want to tell someone I love about the worst thoughts I have? Fuck that. But since this seems to be the moment to finally talk about it, I guess I'm gonna talk about it. (Apparently telling everyone I love about my worst thoughts is somehow a better option than individually. Good gods, Zach...)

OK, so. I have depression, and It Sucks. I've lived with it since I was at least 10 years old, probably longer than that, but at least since then. I'm 32 now (let's keep that between us) so it's been 22 years. And it is exhausting. Your brain's Wi-Fi network is named Sadness Doesn't Fucking Describe It and you can't disconnect no matter how many times you take a nap to turn your heart's router off and on again to reboot.

My depression has had a major effect on my life. It's kept me in bed before school and work, costing me study time and jobs. It's stopped me from calling friends and family, attending birthday parties and celebrations, getting to know new cities and new people. It's held me back from publishing blog posts, creating videos, attending networking events, asking for interviews, writing scripts, and developing my projects.

My depression is a voice that tells me I'm not wanted, that I'm not liked or loved, and that nobody cares about me. It says I have no talent, that no one will ever want to work with me because anything I create is going to be awful, so it's better to give it up before I even begin. It reminds me that my mother died a month shy of my 23rd birthday and of all the ripple effects that came with that for me and my siblings. It says I'm guilty of ruining lives because one day my teenage self had to make an adult decision which broke apart a family, and it can never be fixed because one of them has passed away and the other three appear to be lost to each other, probably forever.

I know it's not true that I'm guilty, but my depression gives no fucks and takes control to make me feel like I AM guilty, and that's how I've felt for the last 18 years. But even though my brain KNOWS that I am NOT guilty, my heart has yet to catch up. I don't know if it ever will. I do know that when all of this bullshit I just described combines, it sends me deep into The Spiral to the point that I understand why suicide seems like the best option to people sometimes.

Because suicide DOES seem like the best option to ME sometimes.

I've considered it more times than I'd care to admit and more recently than I'd care to admit. The only things that have ever stopped me were knowing the effect it would have on my family, both blood and chosen, and knowing that it was a temporary feeling caused by a chemical imbalance in my brain which would eventually pass, because science. Even when I'm in The Spiral, I can still hold on to a semblance of rationality and be cognizant that there's science involved here. Its fucking hard though.

So far, that's been enough.

Sometimes I worry that one day, it won't be.

Because my depression and The Spiral could give a fuck about my family and science and rationality, and there have been times when it's been reeeeeally hard to hold on. I mean... really. really. hard.

Living life for other people doesn't feel like living, it feels like waiting for death. When that realization starts to take hold, it starts to feel like you should just end the wait. I can only imagine that's how Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain felt. I can also understand why suicides increase after this kind of news because while my heart breaks that they never got what they needed to fight their depression, I also long for the kind of relief that only suicide seems to offer, and I can see how someone stuck in The Spiral would read these headlines and want peace themselves. I get it.

It's embarrassing to reveal all of this. I've had incredible things happen to me in the past few years and experiencing depression through all of it makes no sense. That's how depression works though. At least, that's how my depression works. It's gotten better over time, but the struggle is real. Lots of demons here, folks. The stuff I listed isn't even the tip of the iceberg for everything that happens when depression takes control. There's a fuckton more.

I don't really know what to say next. Oh, wait, I do. If you feel inclined to suggest coping mechanisms, I appreciate the sentiment but please, please, just don't. I know that I need to get therapy and some kind of medication to straighten myself out (haha, happy Pride), I'm just not capable of that yet because capitalism and non-existent cost-of-living wages. Please hold off on advocating for those solutions because I am already aware of them and I want them, I just can't get them right now. I am always open to receiving DMs, text messages and phone calls if anyone wants to offer friend therapy in lieu of a licensed psychologist.

Talk soon, yeah? Cool. <3

(I have never been so scared to hit Post.)