After my counseling group had me write My Revision, we had to write our thoughts on coping with depression, so again this isn't a poem but I will be presenting this later this week:
It’s not news for anyone that depression is nothing new for me. I have my good days and I have my bad days, obviously at my worst—it can be pretty bad for me and everyone around me. If I can convince myself to get out of bed, my mood is so low, irritable or on the verge of crying my eyes out that no one wants to be around me. Through 2008-2009 specifically, I called into work so many times I’ve lost count because I was too sad, had no motivation to face the day and half the time frustrated that I woke up yet another morning after attempting to down a handful of pills I was positive would cause an overdose ‘cause I just couldn’t go on. Then I’d be even more pissed at the possibility of a God ‘cause he obviously made me immune to bottles of Xanax, handfuls of Depakote and piles of Ativan. And I could never do anything gruesome like slice my wrist or shoot myself ‘cause, no matter how much I “didn’t care anymore” I still felt bad for whoever would have to clean up the mess.
On my “best” depressed days, it’s easier to ignore, trick myself into feeling happy until I do or simply talking myself out of it. Depression, anxiety and high blood pressure all run in my family. But I don’t feel like I was predestined to be the way I am or I’m going to have to follow in the same path.
I can definitely admit substance abuse has been the escape route for me many times in my life, more so in my late teens & early twenties when I felt like I could get away with it simply for being young and dumb. However, with age, I feel like I can recognize more and more when I am self sabotaging & my inner monologue turns from “pity me, poor me, wah” to “stop it, you boob. Grow up.”
I grew up with my mom’s positive influence to just BE happy and I do believe you can choose your moods and my mom is a living example of that since she’s been through it herself. When I was younger, I didn’t want to take a happy pill and cop out as helpless on my own and unable to just deal with life. I’ve read countless self help books, ranging from lessons from the sandbox, depression, how to cope with stress, leadership or leading, influencing friends and family, alcoholism or the AA book or how to make and follow through with goals for success and happiness. But I’ve come to realize sometimes you can’t do it on your own, for example: there may really be an extreme imbalance of chemicals and if you need to take a prescription to teach your body to level itself out… then so be it. If you absolutely refuse to seek help, increasing your physical activity and time in the sun alone helps greatly. I, myself, take an over abundance of Vitamin D before I go to bed each night. At this point in my life, seeing how completely unreasonable it is for me to be anything but happy, I go to a doctor.
Life is unfair. Life is sad. Life is short. But life is beautiful and worth living for the laughs, smiles, butterflies in your stomach & moments where you’re so happy you cry and if I can bring one of those things to even one other person—I feel like I have served my purpose in life. Leaving off with my favorite quote:
*If we don't allow ourselves to have hope, we're not allowing ourselves to have purpose. Without purpose, without meaning, life is dark. With no light from within, we are just living to die.* - Dean Koontz