Depression: A Dark Matter akin to Dark Matter

 As I left an allusion to the vastness of space in the name of this blog I thought I'd follow that vein to start with, and also write about the hardest thing I could think of. It relates to how people often think of depression as being void, much like the vacuum of space, yet if certain cosmological theories hold true that space is actually occupied by dark matter that causes most gravitational pull in the universe yet is hard to measure or observe. Rather than undermining the metaphor of depression being like that void I think it's actually a better description of what the underlying experience of the condition can be like, at least for me.

When I was at my worst - inconsolable, desperate and alone - I saw things. They weren't real of course, but they were there. I don't think they had the stability to be understood as full-blown hallucinations(I could certainly distinguish their surrealism for what it was), rather they were a vivid envisioning of the fluctuation between life and death that weighed on me more than mere reality... In that sense they're a thing I sincerely hope that no one else ever experiences, yet human experience is rarely so unique. 

Perhaps I should specify, yet that's quite a frightening thing, so first a disclaimer before I go any further. This isn't a nice topic, it's a pretty rough one. If you think you're not up for it, feel free to skip the rest. Do something you enjoy. Get help if you can relate, make that call. Please talk to someone who cares; yes, people care, and no it's not an inconvenience, not at all, just ask. Maybe the first person you speak to won't have all the answers, and actually no one does, but getting help is a lot better than not. Do it. 

 So... I'd see myself dying, repeatedly and in numerous ways, both mundane and absurd; from the classic car accident to the melodramatic impalement by a hundred blades. This was what filled my waking hours, and the ones during which I struggled to sleep. I heard someone else say they'd experienced something similar for a month at one point. 'A month', I scoffed, to myself, 'what a luxury'... 

It was at least a year for me. Over a year of mental torture, not really the emotionless void I'd been lead to believe. Rather the state of an imagination gone truly wild, betraying its owner to the worst kinds of impressions. To me the seeming numbness of depression wasn't simply a matter of self-defense but of sheer mental exhaustion. I'd be too busy fighting demons to apply thought to other things, too emotionally raw to feel much about the experiences of my life. Such was life as I attempted to complete my high-school education. As you may have guessed I didn't exactly graduate well.

I guess there's a bit of narcissism in the way I'm sharing this a decade later, a bit of ego that whispers 'you had to go through all that, it had better be worth something.' I'm not proud of that, but it's also the truth; the one I never spoke when I was dying from it. I resented other people for being able to function. I hated the life I'd been given. I pondered how to get away with murder; considered whether a carefully crafted accident would be just that much more bearable for family and friends. 

Even now I wonder, perhaps I should have gotten the mortal despair out of the way before I was in my final years of highschool; lived beside myself when my grades didn't actually count and it might not have had any sort of domino effect. Although, if you can choose, it's obviously better not to experience it at all and it's not as if getting to 'the other side' doesn't leave you with scars or ongoing issues, which may have been much the same or just as bad nonetheless.

Anyway, what if depression isn't empty? What if it's simply operating at a frequency that is hard to identify? I can't say that I didn't feel during depression; the reality was worse really, and more baffling by far. Maybe it's better to think of it as a state where your neurons can't do what they're supposed to because they're too busy sending pain through your psyche, relentlessly corrupting the flow of information in your brain.

"Sorry I couldn't make it, I was a tad busy contemplating my end."

"My apologies, I didn't quite complete that assessment, or even really start, I had a slightly more pressing matter determining the ethics of suicide in relation to my loved ones."

"Forgive me for my rudeness yesterday, I was perhaps distracted by the ghostly depiction of myself hanged above you by the basketball net."

You don't say these things though, mostly because who says that? A crazy person, of course, and I wasn't crazy, 'just depressed'.

Depression has a weird way of mixing hope with despair though, where you think maybe if you get through this you'll be stronger for it(I'm not), but of course it could also just come back anyway(it has). Surviving depression won't necessarily toughen your mentality, just as blindness won't necessarily make you Daredevil. The only real hope I can offer to anyone who has stared face down into that pit is that you can get away from the thing. There's a whole range of experience and maybe you'll pass it by again but for me at least things have never been quite as bad as they were.

The contradictions aren't just emotional either, they also relate to how you perceive the whole situation. Depression is interchangeably something 'not worth bothering people with' and 'the worst thing I've ever experienced'. You know it can't be both, but it does a great job of being the one it needs to be based on what will ensure your suffering.

Now, none of this is to say that depression isn't the dark, suffocating thing that it's often summarised as, just that there's more to the story, much like space is still a perilous vacuum even if it does have a lot of infinitesimal things going on inside. Yet if, to any extent, someone lives in a dull, numbed state we treat that like the issue when it's really more of a symptom of a broader problem. 

Maybe it's also something like an auto-immune disease; the defense mechanisms that usually protects our psyche from shock and pain become overstimulated by an exceptional case of mental anguish, which is often something real. Sometimes the pain itself persists - which is what I felt like back then - and sometimes the pain suppression just doesn't know when to stop, continuing to dull us, robbing also the capacity to enjoy. 

I think I've experienced that too, where an urgent situation creates a disconnect and even once the situation is resolved I go on in a numbed state because my entirely sane, highly considerate brain knows best and surely where there's some pain there must be more just around the corner...

Neither is pleasant, but maybe the difference between 'minor' and "major" depression is that the worse kind plays back the pain itself so you continue not only in disconnect but have something to fear, which may also relate to its more persistent nature, creating a feedback loop; aka the vicious cycle.

In any case, I'm no psych professional; I only studied psychology at a highschool level and we've already established how that went. I just know what I know and have lived what I've lived, like anyone I guess. I've also been meaning to write more, so I thought I'd challenge myself to write the thing I wanted to share least, and man this is nerve-wracking..

In fact while I'm on the topic I do think it's worth mentioning that we(meaning male folk, but if the shoe fits put it on) still have a real problem sharing anything regarding mental health. It's dangerous, and so obvious, yet it persists. I might write on this and stoicism more in the future but I feel this is important enough to at least mention here. 

I doubt I'll live through another experience of depression as severe as the first time without help. I've had counseling since then but I'm not sure I'd even bother to if I went to the worst extent again. I don't just want people to feel suitably and admirably bad after the fact, or even ask how you are using shorthand once a year, I'd really prefer the not dying alternative(at least, that is, all the way up until I don't). We could even try a social experiment where we don't suppress and internalise everything or encourage others to do likewise. I'm not exactly good at that, but I guess I'll try it some time.

If you're anyone with a similar experience, or something different, feel free to share. I don't know if I can help much but that is more than nothing. Or just if you can't relate but want to know more. Whatever the case may be.