So I've told you all kinds of stories about my depression. How it effects me. A little about how it effects others around me. Even how it makes me feel. What I haven't really tried to do, until now, is tried to explain how depression actually feels. What is the experience like. I'm not sure I'm gonna do it total justice, but I'm gonna try.
When I first started therapy a few months ago, we talked about me, and we talked about my depression.
Wait a minute? What? How can you talk about them separately?
I was a little confused at first.
We were talking about depression like it was something you could get rid of... that didn't seem right...
It seemed like a wildly strange concept to me.
We decided to split my personality into two parts. One was the Ed I want to be. The other was my depression, that I kind of wanted to go away. We decided we'd call him 'Asshole'. Inspired by what my ex-wife always called me, and still does, when I start acting like, well... an asshole.
One of the early weeks, we did a two chairs exercise. In one chair, Ed. In the other, Asshole. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was that day that I truly realized that I will never win my battle with depression. My depression is part of me now, and it's never leaving. It has an important role to play in my life and experiences. The trick will be minimizing the role it plays. Controlling it. Controlling the tendencies that come with it.
My depression came from place where I felt like I needed to protect myself. It is a defence mechanism. Asshole, as I like to call him, is Ed's defender.
Ed is an interesting fellow. Kind, warm, thoughtful, caring, empathetic. He's also incredibly sensitive. He's a great listener, he loves to help, he would give his last nickel to help a friend. He would jump in front of a bullet for a friend. He would walk over hot lava for a friend.
Asshole, on the other hand, is an interesting fellow, but in a different way. He's sarcastic, he's condescending, he can be downright mean. He's easily brought out when Ed feels attacked. When Ed is confused. When Ed is frustrated. When Ed is annoyed. It doesn't take much. Asshole is also a little bit paranoid. Asshole isn't all bad though. When Ed is being legitimately mistreated, Asshole has a role to play. Sometimes, nice doesn't get you where you need to go. Sometimes, one needs to be an Asshole. Those times are rare though, and for a long time, it was all Asshole all the time.
When I first arrived at therapy, one of the first questions was, how much of you is defined as Asshole vs Ed. The answer was 90% Asshole / 10% Ed. The depression was in total control. It was bad. 90% of what came out of me was the bad stuff. It wasn't where I wanted to be.
We've been working on that ever since. Not to eliminate Asshole. I can't and wouldn't want to. He's important. Sometimes, Ed needs the protection. Sometimes, Ed needs to fight back. But there needs to be balance. Ed really needs to be in charge the most. Asshole needs to follow orders.
So what's it like living with depression? It's a fight. It's like going round after round after round with Mike Tyson. It's constant. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. 365 days a year. It's exhausting. It's two parts of the same person constantly at war with each other for dominance. I guess it feels to me a little bit like having multiple personalities. Depression is a powerful thing, it almost has a mind of it's own and it's a constant battle to keep it at bay.
I described it to my therapist the other day as living your life like you are on an Oscar style tape delay. Ed is constantly trying keep to keep Asshole in check. Ed is often quiet at social events because he's 30 seconds behind everybody else. Ed is always sitting with his hand on the censor key should he be required to bleep out something that asshole has thought might be funny. Occasionally, the odd bit slips by Ed and he is embarrassed and humiliated. Ed really doesn't like feeling like that.
There's plenty more that's wrong with me, but that's a quick and dirty look into what goes on in my head day-to-day.
One this is for sure though. No longer will my depression define who I am. I will find the strength, and I will fight until my dying breath. I won't ever win. It's a war that can't be won. But I will win more than I lose. I will be the person I want to be. 95% Ed. 5% Asshole (when service sucks at a restaurant, when someone tries to steal my parking space, and sometimes... when I'm just too tired to fight anymore).
F#$K DEPRESSION!
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