Day 9: Depression Without Escape Hatches

The last few days I've been visited by my old friend*, clinical depression. It isn't the worst bout I've ever had if I think about it and put it in perspective. I've had bouts of depression where I couldn't even read a book (I'd just keep reading the same paragraph and losing my concentration), and a movie wouldn't be distracting enough (the sadness would still seep through.)

This is not one of those bouts. I could easily keep this depression at bay by reading novels all weekend or watching 6 familiar romantic comedies, or continuing my "Game of Thrones" rewatch. If I escaped into those other worlds and forgot my own brain chemistry/personal stressors/hyperawareness of the global situation for a few hours, I'd probably fix myself up, at least temporarily.

It almost feels a bit masochistic then to carry on with this project of creating 3x as much as I consume with depression in the picture. However, however... I'm not sure whether in the long run it doesn't add to depression more to spend so much of my life escaping from my life. Your house doesn't get any cleaner by ignoring it, your bills don't get paid if you don't write the check, so why do I expect my mental health to clear up by if I'm not engaging with it? Art is part of that engagement. So is sitting with the pain.

I recall a quote from May Sarton in "Journal of a Solitude"**  "...sometimes one has simply to endure a period of depression for what it may hold of illumination if one can live through it, attentive to what it exposes or demands." This quote has always meant a lot to me, both because I think at least my depression has a lot more going on than just brain chemistry***, and because I have always prioritized truth over contentment.**** I have yet to wrench great art out of depression the way Sarton and so many famous artists have. But I do think that I have gained pieces of wisdom, and they have led me to my current burgeoning practice of Buddhism and a realization that yeah, life is suffering, but there are still ways to make life meaningful and enjoy deeper contentment. Of course depression has also brought me close to danger at times. I've never attempted suicide, but I know what it's like to want to die. Oh I know that feeling well. I know it from this morning, in fact.

So where do I draw the line between staying safe through less-than-ideal coping mechanisms, and facing the truth, my life without the escape hatches? When does an escape hatch become necessary? I'm not sure yet, but I haven't reached that point. I do think that it might be good for me to find alternate ways to deal with depression than watching TV shows, because the feeling of coming off an 11-hour TV binge when you're already depressed and feeling like a loser is one of the worst feelings there is, and at least I'm not dealing with that right now.

Now instead of an 11-hour TV binge I can look back on a day in which I visited a conservatory and saw little quails and canaries and beautiful plants*****, a day in which I bought our healthy food for the week at the food co-op. A day in which I made chai spice cookies from a new recipe I found. A day in which I visited with an old friend and we made crafts and talked about old times and new times and mortality and, yes, TV shows and book too. A day in which I didn't escape my life. And I'm still here.

*"Hello, darkness, my old friend" the lyric makes so much sense to me when I hear it.

**A great book, for the record, one of many probably sitting sadly waiting for me in my storage facility in Portland, Oregon. I'm currently obsessed with trying to get those things to me again.

***One reason among several that I've never been super into taking antidepressants as a choice for myself.

****In high school we read "Brave New World" and the teacher asked our class who would take the soma to be happy rather than live dissatisfied but understand the truth. There were three of us who wanted to know the truth. I also sometimes frustrated my last therapist because I told her that I didn't want to deal with anxiety by focusing on the unlikelihood of my death at any given moment, but instead I wanted to fully accept the certainty of my own eventual (and possibly imminent) death in a kind of Buddhist monk way.

***** Like this plant, for example. I wish I remember what it was called.




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