30 Mar 2017

I know what it’s like to go through depression and that’s why I’m gonna make this short. Because when you’re depressed, you can’t be f*cked reading. Every process is a burden. A labour. Reading is draining. Painful. I’m lucky that you even clicked on this.

When I was in the depths of it all, I couldn’t even scroll through Facebook. So you’re already doing better than me. I’d just sit in front of the computer, staring at the home screen for hours, wondering where my mind had gone. Staving off the negativity.

I say negativity not sadness, which might surprise a few people, but that’s what depression felt like for me. Sadness implies feeling emotion. I think sadness is great – it’s a catalyst for depth and understanding and eventual growth. Depression is not sadness. Depression is the absence of all emotion. Depression is negativity. A negativity that you can’t simply cry away or shake off. A negativity that is constant. Without a beginning or an end. A negativity that permeates everything.

Like water, negativity bored out channels in my mind. A torrent of thoughts constantly reminded me of all the things that were shit. The negative thoughts were perfectly tailored to my personal life, acted out by old memories and experiences. I can’t speak to people, I can’t feel happy, I can’t laugh, teased at school, not funny, not smart, immature, my Dad hates me. The self-talk was overwhelming.

When I was lucky, my mind would empty, devoid of thoughts or feelings – and so I’d aim for that. I began avoiding any sort of stimulation, any experience, any interaction. Even spending time with my friends and family was too much, because I knew that it would sink me back into the negativity.

At 19-years-old, I didn’t have the emotional capability to deal with life. There was a lot of shit going on. I come from a long line of emotionally crippled men. A consecutive run of shitty decisions – returning from travelling, drinking too much, smoking too much, taking Roaccutane for my acne, getting fired, losing friends, doing drugs, alienation from my family – laid the foundations for my depression. Then, as my sadness built walls around me, basically making me a shit dude to hang with, people moved further away, and I became trapped in my own head. And when depression comes, it stays.

It sits on you and it doesn’t leave. You can try and wait it out. Tell yourself that everything will be alright. That time will heal whatever it is that’s going on. Consume affirmations. Read The Power of Now. You can affect smiles for your loved ones or workmates – that’s if you can handle going out in public. Or you can hide from everyone and just try to stave off the negativity.

But to be honest, none of that shit really worked. I couldn’t beat it by myself. I tried for years to fight against depression. To overcome it. To fix my mind with my mind. To pretend it wasn’t there. I went travelling, had girlfriends, exercised, meditated and ate healthy, read philosophy and self-help books. And while these things soothed the negativity and began shifting my thought channels, the real change came when I finally asked for help. Four years later.

Why did it take so long? Because asking for help is the hardest f*cking thing in the world to do. When I asked for help, I needed to admit something was fundamentally wrong with the way that I was. That I was out of control. I got so used to keeping myself alive by repeating “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay”, that it felt impossible to think otherwise. That it wasn’t actually okay.

I was forced to look directly at my life – who I was, what I was doing, and go – this is f*cked, I need change. I need help. Depression was everything that I was, every thought, everything I did. So asking for help felt weird, almost inappropriate – like, how can I change who I am? How can anyone help me?

But they can. Chances are the first few friends you tell will kinda freak out and won’t know what to do. If you tell someone you love they might get awkward or feel sad and responsible. But straight after, the burden will begin to lift.

If you can’t tell your friends, or you don’t have many left, go to the doctor and tell them you’re depressed. They give you free counselling sessions. The first counsellor you see will no doubt be totally f*cked. They won’t understand you, they will say the wrong things, seem kinda f*cked up themselves. Go to at least three sessions. If they fail, move on to the next.

You will eventually find the one person that you connect with, a truth that you can trust in, a mentor. It doesn’t have to be a counsellor. Maybe it will be a friend or family member. Whoever it is, look for them, find them, they WILL help you.

Depression can be the loneliest experience in the world. Just remember there are thousands of people fighting the negativity as well and there are thousands more that have beaten it – and we are all here for you. So ask for help.

If you’re having a hard time, reach out to beyondblue 24/7 by calling 1300 22 4636, chat to someone online, or check their forum.

Words by Scout Fisher. Read more of his writing here.