An essay on my journey with depression

The dark
place. It sounds like the title of a horror novel or a scary movie with perhaps
some images of an old dilapidated house surrounded by dark trees and a sea of
fog just beyond the perimeter. Perhaps you think of dark and rolling waves in a
seemingly endless ocean. Or better yet, a dark pit whose depth is great enough
that you can barely see light at its edges. Any and all could be true, but if I
am being honest the pit actually fits the scenario best. Depression is my dark
place; my pit.

I hate it. I hate the dark place. I have visited it many
times throughout my life and each time I hope it will be the last time. It is a
miserable and lonely place that clouds judgment and reality with doubt and
lies. My instincts are to draw inward and hide away. I feel this need to
protect myself and go silent. All this happens unconsciously and I don’t even
realize I am doing it until I reach a point that if I use the pit analogy, I am
so deep that I feel I can’t dig or climb my way out.

The dark place has this horrible ability to warp reality. No
matter how much work and progress I’ve made, it cracks my defenses and seeps through
blocking logic and giving irrational fears and insecurities a voice. These voices
that have long been silent begin whispering their hateful messages:  You are a fraud. You will never be as good as
your brother. Your friends don’t really like you. No one is calling/texting you
because you obviously said something to make them mad. You are a horrible
husband. Stacey should leave you and find someone who isn’t such a downer. Then
of course the worst of these whispers occurs - You didn’t do enough for your
mom. No matter how much I know they are not true, they are loud and venomous. Doubts
rise and I begin second guessing everything. I become easily confused and scared;
I jump to the worst-case scenario for even the smallest of things. I withdraw even
more.

I recently told my therapist that I don’t know who I am
right now. Even typing this sentence I can feel the pressure in my chest as the
event replays in my head. It is fucking scary to wake up and feel so alone and
lost that you don’t recognize yourself. The feelings and thoughts rushing
through my head are ones I haven’t had before or haven’t heard in a very long
time and it terrifies me. Where is the strong and independent man I know I am?
Why can’t I find me? I’m still here; but somehow hidden.

Depression creates a vicious circle of doubt, self-hate,
blame, and lies that continuously envelopes my thoughts. How can I not know who
I am? You are stupid for feeling that way. No, I am not stupid, it is part of
the process. That is just psycho-babble to make you feel good. No, it isn’t; I
need to go through the steps to work through these feelings and recognize what
is true and genuine. You are broken; you can’t be fixed. Yes, I can and I will.
No you won’t. Back and forth and back and forth until eventually true and
genuine feelings do rise again to the top and the voices of self-doubt and fear
disappear.

Sadly, my time in the dark place involves more than just
mental effects, there are physical side effects as well. So much of my energy
is focused on withdrawing and protecting myself from the voices of doubt that I
lose the desire to do much of anything else. I can’t count the hours I’ve spent
curled in my chair doing nothing more than just surfing nonsense on the
internet. As much as I want to go outside and enjoy the sun on my face, I can’t
bring myself to get up. It feels too difficult. Some days I can barely get
myself out of bed and into the shower for work. There have been so many days
that I wished I could stay there curled in the blankets and ignore the world
around me. Somehow though, I manage to get up each day. It took me a long time
to realize how important that step truly is.

I think it is important to also share that despite being in
the dark place, there have been days filled with joy and excitement. These
escapes from the dark place’s influence are treasures. They help me to recognize that the dark place isn’t permanent. As strong and venomous the feelings can
be, they are not true. I can escape and be whole again. I will be out of the
dark place again and I will be better for it. I am struggling in my current
battle, despite the progress I’ve made. I’m still withdrawing at times and
struggling to get motivated. However, I do see a light at the end and it is
growing.