Wrestling with depression is an frustrating conundrum. If you are one of the few lucky ones who is able to recognize your nemesis, or perhaps have someone referee the fight for you (such as a therapist or counselor), you are left with two conflicting ideas. The first, that you can best this fiend (at least, those of us that also have pride issues have this idea). The second, that you aren’t worthy of besting said fiend.
Much like Schrodinger’s cat, you find yourself being your greatest fan, your ultimate cheerleader, while simultaneously berating and belittling yourself. So you have this ebb and flow of fighting and resigning, fighting and resigning. It’s much like the person who says they want to get fit, but refuses to eat and workout the way they need to on a consistent basis. They may do so for a week, maybe two, then fall off the bandwagon for a while, then jump on again, over and over.
I find myself constantly saying “I know that I could beat this. I could go talk to somebody. I could get help. But really, am I even worth it?”
This is something that is not understood by people who don’t have depression. People were talking about how selfish Robin Williams was for taking his life. “He has kids”, they would say. “He’s a father. If you’re a father, you just don’t do that.”
The problem with this monster is, we are overcome with thoughts of “This is better for them. They’ll be happier if I’m gone. They don’t need, or even want me. They just put up with me.”
We don’t just contemplate suicide to make our life easier. Yes, it’s a heavy burden and suicide is enticing in it’s freedom, but more than that, suicide seems like a release of all of our friends and family who pity us, love us because they have to, treat us well because they know that if THEY didn’t, no-one else would.
Depression is one of the least rational, most persuasive wrestlers in all the land.
If you’re locked in this struggle, you’re not alone. Talk to someone about it. You are worth it.
Even if you feel like you are not.