The Depressive Optimist

Wow, I have just been hit square on the face with a shovelful of depression. Fuuuccckk! Just when I think I’m strong and happy and well equipped to deal with the shit of the world I am propelled back down into the pits of doom. I am so sick and tired of holding on and reaching out and asking the universe, please, please just give me my single grain of happiness. I don’t want it all, just a little. Just enough to keep me going until my body has aged to the point where it matches my soul.

I have mustered all the positivity and hope that I can. I have laughed and smiled and sang with the world and I know happiness and I know love and I know adventure. And I know nothing lasts forever except that sometimes this depression feels like it is going to last forever and I can’t really handle that.
Slowly things happen, things improve and I am lulled into a false sense of security that everything’s gonna be ok. Then it halts. The slow progress I’ve made feels like I might have conquered an ant hill. A fucking ant hill! Well, jeez Louise I climbed that bad boy and I felt so goddam proud of myself for a millisecond. Only to have it all taken away because the next ant hill is at least ten billion light years away and I just don’t know if I can make it that far and still have the energy to conquer it.

Then I am reminded of all the wisdom I have gained from reading books by Pauolo Coelho and I wonder why I am giving in when I am so very, very close. Close to what? I don’t even know but I keep hoping that my grain of happiness is round the next corner, or a bit further down that twisty path. The one with weeds and wildflower. Or maybe I should just go on down the path with broken glass and graffiti and so what if I cut the fuck out of my feet, sure the skin’s as tough as leather anyway.

I had to think seriously about whether or not I was gonna post this but the death of Robin Williams has made me realise that too many people carry the burden of depression and feel the stigma and, ulitmately, feel like they have no choice but to end the pain for good. I have used medication before but, at this point in my life, I don't want to simply block out all my feelings. Besides, it's different becuase the more I open up about depression the more I understand it and the less I fear that it will go on forever. It just feels like that sometimes. I am totally past the point of caring what people think of me. Sort of. I know I have a lot of love and light to offer and I know that I'll ride this out and reclaim back just enough strength to prepare me for the next outburst. That's not that I always expect to fall back down but that I know I need to prepare myself for it. Dealing with the Black Dog head on is the only course of action for me. There are reasons I feel the way I do, it's not like my depression is unexplainable and I am working as best I can to keep focus on all the good I have in life. I can feel hopeless but optimistic at the same time, if that makes sense.