03/07: Yes, I Get Depressed (and Know of a White Horse)
A man clasps a rosary tightly, feeling the smooth, dark beads between his fingers. He knows what he is going to do, unable to explain why. Yes, he has fame, fortune and position. Yes, he has many friends and family who care greatly for him, love him. Yes, life is good, to those on the outside.
Holding his rosary, he climbs through a small window high up in a tall building and leaps. Rosary weaved between his fingers, he lands on a car, bounces and lands on another car before coming to rest on the ground, broken. His wife said he had been depressed lately.
I made a comment a long time ago, and a few times since, about depression, a comment that gave pause. I had the audacity to say, “Yeah, I get depressed, so what?” I then went on to explain my point of view and experience, but all that was heard was “I get depressed.” Now I receive newspaper clippings about the commonality of male depression, the symptoms, the treatment. They heard nothing after the words “I get depressed.”
The human mind is a magnificent machine, a machine with complexity far beyond our understanding. It is fascinating how we believe we are in complete, conscience control of our minds, yet when I say “Do not think of a white horse,” what are you thinking of? Tell yourself not to think of a white horse and what does your mind see? Simple suggestion and look what your mind sees. Let us not forget all of the times you have had an erection you did not want because it was “inappropriate” — your mind did that. What about the occasional violent urge you feel within and have to suppress, sometimes when you least want to rage — again, though it is often about stress, it is your mind fucking with you. Then there is fear, a feeling that overcomes our being, a feeling we want to dismiss, a consuming feeling — gift of the mind. We are in charge? Minimally, at best.
At best, we can try and control the input the grey matter receives. We avoid what takes the mind where we do not want to go and try to fill the senses with those things that make us feel good. Fortunately, no matter what we do, we still become saddened, experience sorrow and become depressed. Why fortunately? Because without down, up does not exist. Think about a manic depressive: their highs fly high because their lows plummet so deep. But that is being alive, being the full of man, human. Of course, Prozac will flatten the rollercoaster ride.
There are all kinds of drugs out there designed to keep you from feeling — alcohol has been used for this since the early days of man, when we found a relaxing moment not needed to fight for survival and used the boredom to become depressed. Have you met anyone on these drugs? Know anyone on these drugs? Some of the people around them will say how much better they are, unfortunately, they are zombies. (Not that there is anything wrong with being a zombie, if you are into that kind of thing.) Sure, they are no longer depressed, but they are also only semi-alive. If the choice is between zombie and depressed, I pick depressed. But that is not the choice.
I am not a fan of being depressed. I do not look for depression, strive for depression or accept depression. I listen to depression. When I am depressed, I know something is wrong, something needs to change in my life, for if nothing changes my state of mind will not change. Maybe you do need to leave your wife or sell your house or quit your job or join the priesthood or dump your friends or buy a bar or take up kickboxing or wear a dress or get your dick sucked or find your highschool girlfriend or go on a safari or learn to surf or skinny-dip or join a gym or sell your possessions and travel the world or something, but the answer is not “maintain the status quo.” Your mind is telling you something must change, it is whether or not we have the balls to change. I know, Prozac/Zoloft/Paxil/Booze is easier. If your mind is giving you depression, you need to change what you are giving your mind.
When I admit to becoming depressed, that is not failure. The fact that it lasts a week, a month, a year, whatever, is not bad. When I admit to becoming depressed it is only an acknowledgement that my needs and desires change and I have to meet the challenge of making myself happy without limiting possible solutions. We do have the key to our well-being.
Oh, look, another article from a family member saying depression in men is a monster. Genetic, some think. I did not know this: Nearly 24,000 men a year kill themselves because they are depressed. Look at all of these organizations out there willing to help — we all need people to talk with. Oooh, even famous people get depressed. (How can that be, they are famous. Who writes that crap?)
We all get depressed — period. If you want to change what your mind is giving you, change what you are giving your mind. Sure, that may mean you give up all of your possessions to live in a tiny one bedroom apartment on the seedy side of town to become a painter of cats or go and try farming in Ethiopia, but if that makes you happy it beats the hell out of your career as a zombie.
(Shit, input has arrived. Here comes depression, or incredible joy. Damn rollercoaster.)
No matter how good life may seem, if you are not in alignment with who you really are, your depression will grow and you will eventually snap. I do not want to snap, so when I am depressed, I have to ask why; I have to change something or I can expect my depression to blossom.
Go ahead, think about the white horse, just don’t think about the beautiful naked woman with pert breasts sitting atop the horse. (And you think you are in charge?)
What if depression is not mine but my wife’s/girl friend’s/bitch’s/ol’ lady’s/partner’s?
Yeah, I hear you. Unfortunately, as brilliant as we are as men, we cannot fix another person’s problem(s) — even if we know what the problem is and they do not.
Depression in your significant other can be debilitating. You worry about the next emotional drama, episode, outburst, often waiting. You think about creating distance between you and the one you love, or simply create the distance, to feel better yourself. You do not want to feel like a caretaker for your invalid, but you would like them to get better. You think about them taking drugs, anything, so you can begin to resume life with some sort of normalcy.
There is no answer. You cannot make them better. Often, the best thing you can do is encourage them to seek help and hope the help they find is good. You also have to ask yourself at what point have they begun to pull you down, and how far down you are willing to go before you let them go to save yourself — there is a point where you are not pulling them out, they are pulling you down, and it is such a blurry line we often do not see ourselves cross. It may be that letting go is not only the best way to save yourself but the only way they can save themselves.
We cannot claim to save another, but we can love another and accept them for who they are. That works within also: accept who you are, and your limitations, which includes the ability to fix another. When all is said and one, we can only hope we make the right choice.
Remember: The busy mind has little time for melancholy.
Also, patience truly is a virtue.
Holding his rosary, he climbs through a small window high up in a tall building and leaps. Rosary weaved between his fingers, he lands on a car, bounces and lands on another car before coming to rest on the ground, broken. His wife said he had been depressed lately.
I made a comment a long time ago, and a few times since, about depression, a comment that gave pause. I had the audacity to say, “Yeah, I get depressed, so what?” I then went on to explain my point of view and experience, but all that was heard was “I get depressed.” Now I receive newspaper clippings about the commonality of male depression, the symptoms, the treatment. They heard nothing after the words “I get depressed.”
The human mind is a magnificent machine, a machine with complexity far beyond our understanding. It is fascinating how we believe we are in complete, conscience control of our minds, yet when I say “Do not think of a white horse,” what are you thinking of? Tell yourself not to think of a white horse and what does your mind see? Simple suggestion and look what your mind sees. Let us not forget all of the times you have had an erection you did not want because it was “inappropriate” — your mind did that. What about the occasional violent urge you feel within and have to suppress, sometimes when you least want to rage — again, though it is often about stress, it is your mind fucking with you. Then there is fear, a feeling that overcomes our being, a feeling we want to dismiss, a consuming feeling — gift of the mind. We are in charge? Minimally, at best.
At best, we can try and control the input the grey matter receives. We avoid what takes the mind where we do not want to go and try to fill the senses with those things that make us feel good. Fortunately, no matter what we do, we still become saddened, experience sorrow and become depressed. Why fortunately? Because without down, up does not exist. Think about a manic depressive: their highs fly high because their lows plummet so deep. But that is being alive, being the full of man, human. Of course, Prozac will flatten the rollercoaster ride.
There are all kinds of drugs out there designed to keep you from feeling — alcohol has been used for this since the early days of man, when we found a relaxing moment not needed to fight for survival and used the boredom to become depressed. Have you met anyone on these drugs? Know anyone on these drugs? Some of the people around them will say how much better they are, unfortunately, they are zombies. (Not that there is anything wrong with being a zombie, if you are into that kind of thing.) Sure, they are no longer depressed, but they are also only semi-alive. If the choice is between zombie and depressed, I pick depressed. But that is not the choice.
I am not a fan of being depressed. I do not look for depression, strive for depression or accept depression. I listen to depression. When I am depressed, I know something is wrong, something needs to change in my life, for if nothing changes my state of mind will not change. Maybe you do need to leave your wife or sell your house or quit your job or join the priesthood or dump your friends or buy a bar or take up kickboxing or wear a dress or get your dick sucked or find your highschool girlfriend or go on a safari or learn to surf or skinny-dip or join a gym or sell your possessions and travel the world or something, but the answer is not “maintain the status quo.” Your mind is telling you something must change, it is whether or not we have the balls to change. I know, Prozac/Zoloft/Paxil/Booze is easier. If your mind is giving you depression, you need to change what you are giving your mind.
When I admit to becoming depressed, that is not failure. The fact that it lasts a week, a month, a year, whatever, is not bad. When I admit to becoming depressed it is only an acknowledgement that my needs and desires change and I have to meet the challenge of making myself happy without limiting possible solutions. We do have the key to our well-being.
Oh, look, another article from a family member saying depression in men is a monster. Genetic, some think. I did not know this: Nearly 24,000 men a year kill themselves because they are depressed. Look at all of these organizations out there willing to help — we all need people to talk with. Oooh, even famous people get depressed. (How can that be, they are famous. Who writes that crap?)
We all get depressed — period. If you want to change what your mind is giving you, change what you are giving your mind. Sure, that may mean you give up all of your possessions to live in a tiny one bedroom apartment on the seedy side of town to become a painter of cats or go and try farming in Ethiopia, but if that makes you happy it beats the hell out of your career as a zombie.
(Shit, input has arrived. Here comes depression, or incredible joy. Damn rollercoaster.)
No matter how good life may seem, if you are not in alignment with who you really are, your depression will grow and you will eventually snap. I do not want to snap, so when I am depressed, I have to ask why; I have to change something or I can expect my depression to blossom.
Go ahead, think about the white horse, just don’t think about the beautiful naked woman with pert breasts sitting atop the horse. (And you think you are in charge?)
What if depression is not mine but my wife’s/girl friend’s/bitch’s/ol’ lady’s/partner’s?
Yeah, I hear you. Unfortunately, as brilliant as we are as men, we cannot fix another person’s problem(s) — even if we know what the problem is and they do not.
Depression in your significant other can be debilitating. You worry about the next emotional drama, episode, outburst, often waiting. You think about creating distance between you and the one you love, or simply create the distance, to feel better yourself. You do not want to feel like a caretaker for your invalid, but you would like them to get better. You think about them taking drugs, anything, so you can begin to resume life with some sort of normalcy.
There is no answer. You cannot make them better. Often, the best thing you can do is encourage them to seek help and hope the help they find is good. You also have to ask yourself at what point have they begun to pull you down, and how far down you are willing to go before you let them go to save yourself — there is a point where you are not pulling them out, they are pulling you down, and it is such a blurry line we often do not see ourselves cross. It may be that letting go is not only the best way to save yourself but the only way they can save themselves.
We cannot claim to save another, but we can love another and accept them for who they are. That works within also: accept who you are, and your limitations, which includes the ability to fix another. When all is said and one, we can only hope we make the right choice.
Remember: The busy mind has little time for melancholy.
Also, patience truly is a virtue.
