Wow! Great discussion! Unfortunately, I recently joined the ranks of the depressed. Yeah. I had no idea. None!
The things I found myself doing that seemed to make sense at the time, but don’t make sense when I’m feeling ok…
Well, just one. I found myself attacking my wife, verbally. The logic was that I was a worthless sonovabitch and she didn’t seem to be able to see that. She kept telling my I was loveable and did things that were useful. I knew otherwise, and I had to make her see it. So I told her I didn’t love her, and that I couldn’t imagine us staying together.
Fortunately, we’d been to a psychiatrist (together) and we had therapist friends, and they warned her not to take any of this stuff at face value. “It’s the depresion talking.”
Eventually, after lots of drugs and therapy, my head was again almost at sea level. I never did seem to find a way to get up. I went along for a while, dipping down a little, then staying up for a while, longer on each up, and then, last week, boom! I was back in that awful place, trying to get her to get rid of me, again.
Last night we had a talk. She thought it good, but it was horrible for me. Why did I try to drive her away? I told you that already, but here it is again. She had plenty of analysis. I agreed. I’ll agree to anything that lets me be the bad guy. Incompetent, uncapable, blah blah blah.
I think if we didn’t have kids, she’d have given up on my this time. She says she can’t really take it. Can’t I do something different when I’m down?
I dunno. I want to believe I can do something different. I want to believe I’m smart enough to control this with my brain. I want to believe it’s just laziness and neediness that makes me use depression as a way to get attention. Hell. I do believe it. I do think I’m just letting myself go. I’m like all the people who don’t understand. I guess I don’t understand either. So, if I can’t control this, then I don’t deserve anything good. (I probably don’t anyway—but that’s just one of those stupid depression messages that aren’t true).
So why do I find myself doing these self-destructive things? Why do I want to end up homeless in a gutter somewhere, covered by slime? Why do I think of suicide oh so often? (I interpret that as a sign that I’m depressed, not as anything I really want to do).
I’m sorry. I’m not answering the question. And I’m upset, now.
I don’t have an answer, frankly. I guess I do believe I’ll end up divorced and alone. I believe I’ll fail at everything I do because I have impossibly high expectations of myself. But I don’t seem to be able to wish these things away. I fucking can’t do that. I don’t seem to be able to control myself when I’m down, no matter how much I believe I ought to be able to do it, and I’m just being weak and lazy. It just keeps on happening, and it makes me want to die. I’m such a worthless shit.
Yeah, yeah, I know that’s the illogical self-talk that I’m supposed to not do, but it does not seem to work! Not for me. Oh god, it makes me go round and round in circles in my head. Until I repeat myself over and over, and I get nowhere.
Dunno. Maybe if I let myself off the hook. Admitted I have no control. Maybe it would be easier? But it is so much more comfortable to beat myself up then to hope for anything better. That’s what my therapist says. I’m familiar with depression. It’s the happiness that scares me. It’s easier to think everything will go wrong, and then, if it does, say to myself that I told myself. It’s as expected.
It’s easier not to match my impossibly high expectation; it’s easier to beat the shit out of myself; it’s easier to just feel awful and blame myself for all my own shortcomings. To wallow in self-pity. To…. oh, nevermind.
I don’t know if any of this rings a bell. If it does, show him. Sorry about going on so long. Ah well, no one will read this far, anyway.