Right now, a friend of mine is dealing with a severely depressed friend, and I’ve been trying to help her. In doing so, it’s made me think about my own history with depression. I have cyclothymia – a mild version of manic depression. It’s a minor thing, and at this point in my life, it’s basically nothing. But over the past few years, there were moments where things weren’t so good. Nothing in my life was working out, and I was not in a good place. Eventually, a friend of mine got really worried about me and made it very public, in concern for my safety. That made things worse than ever, but it made me realize what people around me were feeling. I could finally see that people really cared about my health. I know it sounds stupid; but when I was feeling that low, I really didn’t think anyone cared – because I certainly didn’t. I didn’t feel “dark and troubled”, I just felt empty. I have some very close friends who understand depression, and they were very supportive. But most people don’t have that experience; so when I made flippant remarks about suicide or depression, it would really bother them. But I never saw that. After all, these things didn’t scare me, so I never understood why they would scare anyone else.
And really, my honesty was my greatest detriment. I’ve never been a man who felt the need to keep secrets. I have no problem talking about heavy, uncomfortable topics like death, religion, sex, or depression. That’s one of the reasons people often come to me for advice – they know I can talk about anything, without being judgmental or awkward about it. So when it was my turn to have problems, I didn’t hold anything in. I said exactly what I felt about life, and it really got to certain people.
In the latest series of Sherlock, Watson says that Holmes will “outlive God trying to have the last word”, and more than a few people have compared that to me. When something is on my mind, my favorite thing to do is talk/write about it, because that helps me unravel it. In those unhappy times, I spent far too much time dwelling on it. And after the “intervention”, it finally hit me how much I’d hurt people with my depression. I never wanted people to lose sleep over me, and I never wanted people to feel threatened or worried for me. I was just very unhappy, and as speechy as ever.
After that incident, I concluded that the best thing to do was keep any unhappiness inside. If people couldn’t understand what I was trying to say, then I just shouldn’t be saying it. But as time has gone on, I’ve found that there’s no longer any darkness to hide. I haven’t exactly become a happier person, but I finally feel in control of my life. I’m finally finished with my degree, and now I can start making real money. I’ve traveled the world, and there’s a lot more on the horizon. I’ve learned that I’m strong enough to live alone; that if I care about someone who doesn’t care in return, then I’m perfectly capable of making it on my own, regardless of how much it may hurt. Depression isn’t something that ever goes away, but now I’m in control of it so much that it’s basically nonexistent. Mental disorders are very real, but they’re “all in your head” too. You either find a way to manage them, or you eventually get consumed by them.
To get back to my point: recently, this friend of mine has been telling me about her friend, who has a very severe case of depression. She’s being horrible about it. She goes on Facebook and makes incredibly vicious posts – and if nobody responds to them in a matter of minutes, she makes another one saying that her friends are horrible and worthless for not helping her when she needs it. If any of her friends are having a problem, she just tells them to shut up, because no matter how bad it might be, it can’t possibly be as bad as her own problems. And worst of all, she holds people hostage with the suicide card. Nobody’s allowed to say anything to her, because then she’ll “go off and kill herself and it’ll be all your fault.” She uses her condition as an excuse for everything – that’s why she doesn’t have to get a job, go to school, or amount to anything. She expects whatever she wants, and she refuses to do anything she doesn’t want to, because she’s “very sick”. She doesn’t make any effort to include her friends in her life; but if her friends don’t try to include her in everything, she gets jealous and angry, and blames them for giving her depression in the first place. She’s a messed up, crazy person who’s just using depression as a free ticket to get whatever she wants. She feels like everyone owes her and should feel sorry for her.
There are a lot of people like this. Instead of working to overcome the source of their depression, they just use it as an excuse for not having to do anything with their lives; and if anyone says anything they don’t like, they’ll make them feel like a horrible person who attacks the disabled. It makes me so angry to see what they do to the very people who are trying to help them.
And for that reason, I wanted to talk about my own problems. They’re well in the past now, and I hate digging them up again. But I want to point out that I NEVER wanted to be like that person. When I felt like my life was going nowhere, I got serious about college - and now I have a great degree. When I was rejected by people I loved, I became closer to the people who really cared about me. I went through an ugly time, so I found a way out of it. But along the way, I hurt peoples’ feelings, and I want to accept accountability for that. My rants about my unhappiness made certain people feel like they had some kind of moral responsibility over my safety. And while that wasn’t my intention, I can look back and see why these people felt that way. If one of my friends wrote the sorts of things I did, I’d feel like I needed to do something about it, too. I was just trying to apply some sort of closure over everything, but I was unfairly involving people in my own problems. I didn’t think these people cared anyway; but it’s human nature to help those in need, and that drew them in.
I also want to point out that during those times, I feel like my depression was valid. My filmmaking dream had finally died out, I hated where I was in life, I was in the middle of one of the hardest college majors you can take, I’d failed in love only to see horrible men succeed, and I’d walked away from religion after a lifetime of faith. Things were objectively depressing. So when I was down, it wasn’t about getting pity or being the center of attention. I was sincerely unhappy, and I was fighting to fix it – and some days, it just didn’t seem worth it.
So I want to say thanks to everyone who dealt with me (and continues to do so), and I want to apologize if I’ve ever brought you down. Now that I’m better, I can see that I was wrong to be so open about certain things. I didn’t feel like I was dragging people into it, but it happened anyway. The people who cared about me wanted to be supportive, and the people who didn’t care about me worried about their own consciences. They tried to help so that they could feel good about themselves – “at least I tried”. It’s hard to be around people when they’re depressed, but we want to help them anyway so we can feel like we're good people. As a society, we tend to rally around those who need help. And the sad truth is that some people take advantage of that. They use their depression to demand attention, and they make people feel guilty if they don’t pander to them. It makes me angry when people do that. You can’t take emotional hostages just because you think life is unfair. So I want to make that clear – when I was depressed, I meant it. I wasn’t trying to get attention or sympathy, and I wasn’t trying to force people to be nice to me. I truly value my friends, and I would never try to manipulate them like that. So if you ever felt that way, I want to apologize! I know it was a long time ago; but after dealing with this person, I’m really hoping I never made anyone feel the way she makes people feel.