A Chronicle of Depression, Part One

[originally posted to Facebook on 12/11/11]

I’m not sure if it has been obvious, and I know some of my close friends have picked up on it, but I’ve been a little “off” lately. It’s odd, but that’s the best word I can think to describe it. I have not been myself.

I have always been a little reclusive. Well, very much reclusive compared to most people. I’ve always been described as shy, quiet and laid-back. Really, that just scrapes the surface. We are all very complex beings. We create facades that we use in different environments in our day-to-day lives.
I am no different. My work facade is professional, quietly humorous and overall nice guy. At home, I am a goofball, much more humorous (I like to think so anyway), but also affectionate, loving, and so on. I blossom more at home because I can relax my rigid exterior. When I’m around friends, I try to be the cool guy (and typically fail miserably).
I have found that, unintentionally, I have been keeping these facets rigidly separate. Underneath everything, I keep my emotions in check (which is why I have that laid-back aspect). Aside from all of this, those who truly know me, know that I am deeply emotional. The river runs deep, as they say.
Now, to the point. I’m sure if you are reading this, you may not really care where I’m going with this, but please keep in mind one thing. I’m putting this out there for my benefit. Is it a cry for attention? Honestly, yes. In part. The reason I want attention is for several reasons. Sick people don’t get help by keeping silent. I don’t expect sympathy. I don’t want it. This is therapeutic. This is healing.
Over the last few days, I’ve been hit unexpectedly with a wall of depression. As far as the trigger, it’s hard to say. I place blame on no one. I’m not even sure what it was. I have been dealing my depression for almost ten years, without medication and without professional help. I’ve done alright. But this recent episode was like something I have never felt before.
The best way I can think to explain it, well...the only way I can explain it is like the emotional one deals with at the death of a loved one. The problem is, there is no reason for the emotions, just the tidal wave of sadness and fear.
The most terrible thing about all of this, is how I’ve been internally punishing myself. “Men don’t cry. You have reason to feel like this. There are so many other people who have it much worse than you.” It’s a cycle...a spiral that has no end.
After several hours of these internal violent arguments, I realized that I needed help. Flashes of suicidal images, feelings, impulses even. I’ve dealt with this before, but never ever at this magnitude. It’s enough to rip your soul. Guilt, remorse, fear.

Fear. That is the catalyst. But fear of what?

This is different. Not only are the emotions more intense, but I’ve noticed very odd mood swings. Violent mood swings. Uncontrollable rage. Sweeping despair. Beaming giddiness. All of this very exhausting.
So here I am, roughly 3 days after the episode. I’ve crawled from the rubble. Swept it under the rug. Put a smile on. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m alright and that I’ll press on. I have to believe this. But there is still the smoldering cinder of doubt threatening to ignite the inferno.
Luckily, I have the best family any human being could ever hope for. I’ve always know this. So very very very lucky. If not for my family, I would have been dead years ago. Any time that pesky suicide creature rears it’s ugly head, it hits the solid foundation of love and admiration and scurries back into depths.
But that part of it. The suicide. That’s where the fear is. Those thoughts truly scare me. It’s a sign of desperation. Inside of me there is a part that is screaming to be freed. Something that is suffering to the point that a plea for release is screaming from the depths to the point that my ears are ringing. I hear the screams but I don’t know where they are coming from.

It sounds crazy, because it is. Literally.