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336 pages, Hardcover
First published May 5, 2020
Depression is an illness that happened to you. Maybe it was from the chemicals and inherited genetic traits that appeared in your brain before you were even born. Maybe it was from a trauma that occurred and then festered in your brain. Maybe there were people with power over you who behaved in a way that screwed you up. It wasn’t you. You didn’t choose this. No one would ever choose this. It’s not your fault.
“What do you have to be stressed about?” the normies might have said, if I ever talked about these things with normal people. “You have a family, a house, a car, a good job. Just deal with it!” As if I could simply do that. As if I chose this. As if I looked at the options available to me and they were clearly labeled “Perseverance” and “Freaking the Fuck Out All the Time” and calmly said, “Mmm, yes, I select option B.”
Depression can't be cured by positive life circumstances because depression is not a reaction to circumstances.
I suspect that people with depression are fixated on the possibility of ambition being rewarded with happiness. Probably more than most people are. That’s because ambition about the future is a way of avoiding looking at a past that’s often pretty bleak or a future that is terrifying.
This isn’t to say that getting a better job or a pile of money can’t be really great. They often are. Achievements or windfalls can often wipe out a particular cause of worry or dread, maybe even wipe out that worry forever. But then you get used to that new version of normal, the novelty wears off, and you’re left with the same brain you’ve always had, and that’s when depression emerges from dormancy.
People should not underestimate the ability of the difficulty of suicide to dissuade someone from committing suicide.
Women are more likely to attempt suicide in America, but men are much more likely to succeed at it because they use guns.
The thing about a traumatic fixated-upon memory is that it is exhausting to the brain. I wasn’t just haunted by this memory, I was tired all the time. Ever wonder why saddies can’t get out of bed? For many, that’s one of the reasons: an obsessive memory simply wears them out.
I want to share all this in one place because if we talk, things get better, and more people we love might stick around so we can love them more.
"I’d had good therapists in the past, briefly, but all I ever took away from therapy was a somewhat clearer understanding of how messed up I was. That’s helpful, sure, but it’s not really progress. Like knowing the brand of refrigerator you’re locked in. And this was not the fault of the therapists I had seen, who were all trained pros and good at their jobs. It was my fault, or Clinny D’s fault. I never wanted to go all that deep in therapy because that’s where the monsters were. I’m talking about the really really bad memories, the deep bruises, the scars, the events that significantly shape a person through injury. Trauma. Rather than tackle the past, I was willing to settle for a tense ceasefire with it, letting my life be like Middle East countries that hate each other. There would be car bombings, but a homeland is a homeland.
I had gone through life with the belief, often heard in simpleminded quarters of popular psychology, that the past is the past and you just have to move on. “Let it go,” the simple-minded say, again, as if no one had ever tried that before. [...] If you can’t understand your past, then you don’t really know how your mind got to where it is now, because you simply don’t know yourself."
"Trauma is a wolf and your mind is a house and it’s like, “Oh, I’m safe from that wolf because I trapped it in my house before it could hurt me.” But then a while later, it’s “Oh no! What happened to my house? My furniture is shredded and there’s wolf poop everywhere! How did THAT happen? Oh hey, I’m being mauled.”"
"You can’t achieve your way to happiness. You can’t win your way out of depression."
"Sadly, the pain of mental illness can sometimes be greater than even the most fundamental logic. If this type of despair responded to reason, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. This is when suicidal ideation veers hard into suicidal contemplation. Maria Bamford describes it as “that moment-to-moment feeling that all this is unbearable.” Of course, a person isn’t going to feel better after a suicide, but simply existing is not an option."
"“Is there any way we could do this without pills?” I asked. “I don’t want to be all altered. I want to still be myself.”
“This kind of medication doesn’t make you into anyone else. If it works the way it does for a lot of people, you’ll feel more like yourself. Kind of cleans the windshield. As for not being altered, how’s the status quo working out for you?"
"We commonly associate certain feelings with losing someone to suicide: pain, guilt, grief, anger, sadness. Confusion isn’t mentioned nearly as often as it should be. “How could this person be dead, through their own deliberate action, when I never knew that was a possibility?” Because if you never see something that huge coming, that means you live in a world where anyone you know might do the same thing, and then you’re adding fear—terror, really—to the confusion. You were going about your day, and then boom, this happens, so maybe you’ve had the universe figured wrong the whole time."
"Depression poses these lies as your own self-generated thoughts and not those of your illness. Depression is good at making you think it’s not even there and that you are the problem. Depression wants you to think you made a choice to be this way. When you fall for that, as I did for decades, you hate yourself even more.
As if someone would choose depression. As if you or I or anyone would opt for this kind of life. As if our real problem was a kind of monumental stupidity when it came to lifestyle choices.
[...]
Depression is an illness that happened to you. Maybe it was from the chemicals and inherited genetic traits that appeared in your brain before you were even born. Maybe it was from a trauma that occurred and then festered in your brain. Maybe there were people with power over you who behaved in a way that screwed you up. It wasn’t you. You didn’t choose this. No one would ever choose this. It’s not your fault."