My Dark Place

Celebrating 24 years of life.

With every birthday, with the exception of Jehovah’s Witnesses, comes the celebration of your life. My birthday this past Thursday (June 20th!) was no different. I went to bed Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning with equivalent excitement. From the moment I opened my eyes, I had an uncontainable air of downright glee. My boyfriend said that he had 3 surprises for me from the hours of 9 – 12, I had an appointment at the hair salon for noon and I was planning a road trip for my family reunion. Everything was going oh so right! Until…I made the decision to be unhappy.

Things started going wrong when:

  • My bf got called in to work, and we couldn’t celebrate all weekend together the way we’d envisioned we could.
  • I didn’t get to see my mom.
  • I calculated just how dead freaking broke I am with $12K in credit card debt and counting. Why was I going on vacation again?
  • I was feeling like a failure when I realized my Kickstarter campaign wasn’t going to achieve the goal.

The thing about depression is, even the most trivial of thoughts for some (what I like to call the “neutral minds”) are augmented to the 20th level for depressed people. Quite literally, one bad thought can escalate to 10 in a matter of miniscule moments. And then there you are in your dark place and feeling lost. Wondering how the hell a perfectly capable person like yourself could completely lose it to a series of unfortunate and evil thoughts?

But it happened. On this weekend, of all weekends! Then, in my celebration angst, I decided to engage in the spirits! Not the smartest move. Alcohol, in any amount, can only exacerbate the problem. I was growing more and more melancholy. When my bf finally arrived after 2 days of drinking and binge eating, I was a weeping willow of sadness and despair. During every minute of the first 10 hours we were reunited, I was constantly hovering between a face full of tears or those inconsolable post-tear wimpers.

I was fucked up.

It only got worse once my bf joined my family and myself. At this point I was in a really painful position. I wanted all the quality boo time in the world, but also wanted to spend time with my family. After only a few hours of trying to make everyone happy, my already ticked off brain went ape shit and I had one of my worst melt downs. Ever. It was not cute. I was snappy and just wanted to sleep and withdraw from the prying eyes of people that don’t understand depression. Instead, I compromised with everyone and kept drinking. And overeating. Not my finest moments.

Is this what every birthday is going to be like? In an effort to feel more like a grown up and more mature, I have a meltdown? I think I need to stop seeing my life as a race. With the threat of each additional year of life, I feel like I’m behind and like I need to catch up. This past weekend was sad for me because I realized that I was trying to please everyone else, but  while doing so, I let go of each intention to please myself.

To my family it probably seemed that either my bf was physically abusing me or that I was bat-shit-crazy. I assure you, neither is true. I’m just at that struggle point where we all find ourselves eventually:

If the goal is happiness, why am I not happy? If happiness is a choice, why do I allow myself to choose everything but happiness? And if I eventually do find the strength and courage to make the choice to be happy, will I truly be happy? Is it really that simple??

For about 30 minutes on Saturday, I had a really deep chat with my grandfather and boyfriend on the subject. Both men, very wise beyond their years — yes, my 72 year young g-pa was probably one of the wise men in a different life– were both very encouraging. But my depressed mind couldn’t see that. And even after our conversation, I just wanted to keep living in my despair.

Fast forward to tonight — 3ish days after my birthday, and wtf did I really do for myself in celebration of my 24th? Absolutely nothing.

And that’s just fucking sad.


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