A Thing You Should Not Do (To Me)
You can easily destroy me during a depression by being kind.
I put this rather personal entry here so I’ll be able to point friends and lovers towards it in the future, but this situation has come up three times in recent months… And I can’t write about it when I’m depressed, so mise well write about it when I’m in a salvageable mood.
So. If you have a problem with me when I’m depressed, tell me.
I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s sweet – you’re thinking, “Oh, he’s down right now, he doesn’t need any additional burdens. So I’ll wait until he’s out of the depression to talk to him.”
This is, quite literally, a thing that may drive me to suicide.
When I am in a depressive state, I am wrestling my brain weasels – who are telling me that everything is wrong, people hate you, you think they like you but you’re clueless. My brain weasels are telling me I am so worthless and unloved that I should kill myself.
When in a depression, I rewind every conversation we’ve had recently. My brain weasels look at the replay and tell me how much I’ve offended, what a clueless oaf I am, how insensitive and stupid I’ve been. This is further evidence of my worthlessness.
I fight them with facts. I cling to the idea that if things were this bad I would know, that not everyone can be angry or upset with me, and that if there were a problem that bad I’d be aware of it.
This is how I do not slit my wrists.
So what happens when you’re “kind” and wait until I’m done being depressed to tell me how badly I’ve erred is that you have just given the brain weasels ammunition. They were absolutely right! I was screwing up! And I had no clue! That weird conversation we had two weeks ago was proof that I was an idiot!
Now, the next time I’m in a depressive state and I’m frantically replaying every conversation, the brain weasels go, “See? You really fucked up with X, and you didn’t know that. You’ve probably fucked up with everyone, and they’re too nice to tell you. You’ve alienated all your friends. Why are you living again?” And I’m left without a good answer.
I’m not fucking kidding here, people. Every time you wait during my depression, you make the next depression that much worse. You make it harder for me to use facts. (And you make it so, when I eventually emerge from my depression, I’m going to get slammed with uncomfortable talks that no one likes having, so I can’t even be happy once I’ve gotten through this blue time.)
So please. If you have a problem with me, tell me right away. Don’t try to be nice about it, don’t worry about my mood, just fucking come to me and say, “Hey, you fucked up.” Yes, it will make me upset. But I promise I’ll be as rational about it as I can, and deal with it, and then I’ll have the confidence that if my friends are actually upset with me I will know immediately what I did.
Do not be kind. This is not generic advice for depressives, mind you. Every depressive is different. But your attempts to be nice, as well-meaning as they are, push me to dangerous places. Please do not do this.
You seem like a knowledgeable, aware and open kind of guy. Have you looked into any form of energy healing? I know they can range from hokey to plain rip off status, but the concepts outlined in books like the “Whole Body Presence” by Suzanne Scurlock-Durana are pretty solid.
I do not have depression to the degree you do, so the fact they work for me may be irrelavent. And they are probably not a substitute for medication. But I would be interested to hear if you have looked into them.
The key is to find someone who is good, and who you can trust. Because the medical profession (and to my disgust Wikapedia) seem to treat any form of spiritual or energy healing as “not proven to be beneficial by the scientific method” , ignoring the tons of anectotal relavence, there is no regulation or certification of practitioners, who are often labled as massage therapists practicing cranial sacral therapy.