My life has deteriorated so dramatically since this cloud of depression first drifted into my life. I’m 21 now, I’ve been depressed for about 4-5 years. Started in school, my grades plummeted drastically, but I managed to get into my desired university course by the skin of my teeth. Although my time at high-school had come to an end, the depression remained stronger than ever. Its roots tangling themselves around my bones, squeezing them to test my strength.
My first year at university was tough, but I managed to pass my exams to proceed to the next year. In second year, the buzz of new surroundings and the new structure had faded. I stopped going to class. I became isolated. I was practically nocturnal. There were two occasions where I left my home in the middle of the night and went into the city with the intention of killing myself. I ended up walking it off both times. I felt like a murderer, like i wouldn’t just be taking my own life, but I’d be taking it from everybody who knows and loves me. I battle with that idea relentlessly. I dropped out of uni shortly after. I’ve never been career-driven. I’ve never been money-driven. Needless to say, the prospect of losing out on a degree didn’t phase me nearly as much as it bothered my family.
Months pass. I spent the days sleeping. I spent the nights numbing my feelings with video games and other forms of superficial escapism. The symptoms of my depression started to become physical, I could no longer bring myself to get out of bed to go to my minimum-wage job, so I quit.
More time passes. The depression ingrains itself more and more into my mind. I can no longer distinguish between my depression and my personality. The thoughts of suicide seem rational now, where they used to feel scary and extreme. My perception is clearly affected by this faceless monster, but it feels so familiar. It’s similar to the ‘awakening’ you get when you no longer believe in God (or Santa Clause). It’s as though you gain a new awareness of the world, of yourself, of life. I look at the people around me, going about their lives, working nine-to-fives, becoming husbands and wives. Doing what they do because that’s what they’re supposed to do. They’re ants, they’re born, they work, they die. They are listening to their instincts, and they’re listening to society, and they follow the leader to their grave. I can’t live that, I can’t live like them.
So my current line of thought is this. To be content, to be happy, to live, you need a purpose. Some people get this from a higher being, an almighty man in the clouds. Some people get it from family. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great family, but it doesn’t give me the purpose I need.
I don’t want to work. I sound like a stubborn toddler. I, at my core, do not believe the pro’s gained from a working life outweigh the cons. But that’s life. And if that’s life, then I don’t want to live. And I don’t feel desperate or emotional when I say that. It has become a rational statement. I feel as though I’ve processed my surroundings to the best of my ability and this is the answer to the equation. And that is how I know my depression has evolved. When I first had suicidal thoughts, I cried. They terrified me. But nowadays they console me.
2 comments
I’m sorry to hear that depression has become second nature to you. I know the feeling, and it’s truly horrible. Also, have you ever considered getting an “abnormal” job? Not all jobs are 9-5 office jobs, and some don’t feel like traditional work. That would bypass your stance on not wanting to work. Maybe you can find a purpose through that.
Schopenhauer said:” we shall do best to see life as a process of disillusionment”
The feeling of happiness is very elusive.
Alan Watts, in the “Wisdom of Insecurity.” said: “In man, nature has conceived desires which it is impossible to satisfy.”
He also said : “It has given us the power to control the future but a little—the price of which is the frustration of knowing that we must at last go down in defeat. If we find this absurd, this is only to say that nature has conceived intelligence in us to berate itself for absurdity. Consciousness seems to be nature’s ingenious mode of self-torture.
Of course we do not want to think that this is true. But it would be easy to show that most reasoning to the contrary is but wishful thinking—nature’s method of putting off suicide so that the idiocy can continue”