Running Depression to its Logical Conclusion.
I’ve lived with depression as long as I can remember clearly. It’s easiest to compare depression to tides, waves hitting the shore day after month, after year with occasional breaks threatening a larger collapse. If you’re lucky, you can pick up those pieces and find a way to rearrange what’s left, giving you the opportunity to resist a while longer until the cycle repeats itself.
But the process of erosion isn’t limited to me. I’ve observed its effects on everything that is somehow connected to my life. The steady dissolution of the networks that once comprised friends and family have been substantial. If I want to kill myself because of “everything”, how on earth could I blame others from stepping back? And for those networks that don’t fall away, you could argue that they are somehow stronger. You could, but it might be more accurate to use the word numb and not strength.
Indifference is a good word, but I wouldn’t take that word in the direction of malicious. We’re only human after all, our capacities are finite. But as depression slowly consumes my own finite capacity to cope, the people that were once attentive and who have seen this before know how it ends. I am still here after all. I remain, as does my struggle, except with each subsequent cycle that struggle becomes less threatening, less real, less serious.
So how do I get out of this? I feel I’ve made progress, I’d like to think the acute visible crisis that marked my younger years have subsided. I’ve had quite a bit of practice at managing my emotions, putting on a brave face, keeping the depression and the damage it has caused hidden away. In retrospect, I’m not sure if this was a good idea. I’ve erased the only visible and tangible means by which others can recognize and engage with that struggle.
As depression reaches further inland, the arguably objective increased urgency and seriousness of the threat it poses to the structure is inversely correlated, for others it becomes less serious. Less serious, despite it becoming increasingly more dangerous.
But it takes work to see the danger. For the sake of others I have worked diligently to hide that danger, I don’t want to be a burden. It’s hard to blame others, we’re only human after all. How do I make others understand how serious this is? I could kill myself. Suicide is an option, it would certainly make the point and it would solve the problem of erosion. Somehow.
But suicide doesn’t help me although it would solve the problem. If anything it feeds and confirms the structures, the ways of thinking which brought, which pushed me to this point. That system is garbage, and I don’t want to play into it. It doesn’t deserve my life.
I’ll still have to carry myself though, I am embodied. There are physical, human limits that I am forced to respect. I miss my cat, I miss having him around. I miss him sleeping on me while I would read, work, do nothing. I miss my parents too, and my friends, family. But it’s easier for me use my cat to illustrate that point. The mind is malleable though, I have become better adapted at dealing with my isolation over the years and I suppose it is possible to continue down that road which leads to the second option.
The second option would be to walk away from this, labyrinth. I’ve built it after all, I could choose to disregard it. Maybe. I guess I’ve been working towards this option without realizing it. Suicide is the overt, irreconcilable version of what I’m proposing. There is a “soft” suicide which would simply see social links severed. I could choose to reject society entirely. I could, partly. There’s that whole question of food and shelter keeps me tethered.
With this option I must contend not only with innate, intrinsic human limits but also material conditions which I do not control. It would be easier with friends and family but knowing myself, I can’t rely on that. It would be nice though.
I suppose I can keep on this path, until I am pressed between those internal and external forces, and break. Give it the old college try, I can always kill myself later. Suicide isn’t going anywhere. It’s a comforting option to have in my back pocket.