Symptomatic
You do not need to suffer from depression to suffer from symptoms of depression.
I’d like to make that clear before we proceed any further. While chemical imbalances exist, a clinical diagnosis is not required for anyone to feel the wrath of the black dog. I’m beginning to surface from such a spell myself.
One major difficulty, if you’ve ever been under it, is not having the words or means to do anything about it. This takes its toll on the people around you. I cannot tell you how often over the last month I have wished for the words to explain what is going on with me. Those words don’t come. I’ve been quiet, reserved. It’s the hex of grandma’s if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Sometimes, that leaves nothing to be said. Sometimes, nothing gets said for days.
Recovery has taught me that it will pass. And so far, without exception, it has.
Drinking convinced me these bouts with mental illness were a permanent and inexhaustible fight. That is not true in my experience. In fact, sober, I find that funks lose their stench more quickly—although there is no telling when they might return.
I welcome anyone to disagree or challenge what I’ve written so far. This blog is an open discussion, a place where you will be heard. I find, when it comes to mental health, that disagreements become learning opportunities. The only thing I’m certain of, in my thirty-five years of struggling with mental health, is that no one has the answers. It’s those brave enough to ask the hard questions that you should listen to.
Something had to give.
In the past month I have inexplicably sniffed a glass of wine, been overly stern and solemn with my children, and mapped out conversations with my spouse like a booby-trapping war general.
There are some wounds that, however invisible, must fester before they heal.
Oddly enough, the healing began when my wife shared a discouraging modern experience. Always advancing the family forward on the spiritual front, she was researching ways to reduce our waste this holiday season. After following some new influencers in the conservation movement, she was deeply disturbed when the next day, an ad popped up on her social media scroll. It was an add for plastics. No doubt paid for by a manufacturing conglomerate, the advertisement sought to inform the good people on their scroll of the manifold use of that pliable, sealable, sterile material we all know and love. My wife was sickened that advertisers would seek out those attempting to reduce the toxic levels of plastic in our landfills and seas—an issue that anyone with the gift of common sense can recognize as problematic.
While she was distraught, I felt relief. I can’t say why. Perhaps the release came from the recognition of the worst in human nature and that, while that nature is in me, I am a teacher, and teachers at least attempt to produce something beneficial for the world.
I laughed to myself, thinking of Dustin Hoffman being told in The Graduate that the future is in plastics.
I laughed out loud shortly after I announced to my son that the faster he got upstairs and changed into his pajamas, the more Harry Potter I would read to him. He raced into his room, moved deftly to the closet as he undressed. My son is a lovable loaf, who turns simple chores into dramatic sequences. To see him move with alacrity and balance and grace in order to have an extra few pages of some fantasy novel read to him was a true joy. I laughed from the gut as I timed the twenty-nine seconds it took my little Superman to emerge from his phone booth. The laughter punctured the fog. I could see and feel and touch and taste again. I re-joined the living and added another case for the long history of evidence that this too shall pass.
The levee broke just in time.
Last week I was scheduled to speak to the senior class. I give them a talk at the end of their retreat before Thanksgiving Break.
Last year, having just turned ten years sober, I was determined to control every word, to walk that line between the teacher and the man in recovery with the precision of an arrow. I think I was clinging then to an impulse to safeguard my vulnerability for the sake of the classroom.
That’s not right, not fair to the students who deserve to have stable sources of truth in a topsy-turvy world. As I thought about this year’s talk, still symptomatic, I began to feel dangerous, willing to take the microphone and tell it like it really is. Whatever had been plaguing me in the month of November was stirring up a motivation to deliver my story without restraint, to treat these adolescents like they were newcomers in a church basement on some Friday nights. I don’t doubt that it could have been ugly.
But prayer works and so does going to meetings. At a meeting the night before, in fact, I received a great piece of advice from a trusted sober friend: “Keep it PG.”
I was able to gather my thoughts and do what I was entrusted to do. I shared in a general way what it used to be like, what happened, and what it is like now.
As all teachers do, I scattered seeds and left before anything could grow, knowing and trusting that the way things are may not be the way they are supposed to be, but I am an agent of change, someone who can render the spirit incarnate and be an example of the good that God can do.
Whether it’s suffering through the symptoms or giving teenage boys a life lesson: you never know when the fog will lift, when the light bulb will go off, when the seed you planted will start to grow. That’s not our job. We’re in all in recovery. Maybe it’s from drugs and alcohol. Maybe it’s from wrongdoing. Maybe we’re just trying to be a better version of ourselves than we were yesterday. Our job is to keep showing up to life, knowing that God will do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.
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Thank you for this. I am so grateful for the fact that recovery has taught me that “this too shall pass”. This has helped me so much in recovery when the darkness descends without warning, the symptoms of depression that can either linger or be fleeting, and I never know which it will be. The knowledge and comfort I have these days, that comes only through growth in living sober, that it will pass and it won’t last forever has got me through some very tough days (and nights) when it all is utterly overwhelming.
When and only when there is sobriety.
I agree wholeheartedly about that. It’s been my experience, without a doubt, that it is better (or maybe manageable?) in sobriety. Sometimes, I think, part of my problem is wanting to be at the finish line already. When these growth opportunities you mention are lifelong journeys, not single destinations. Thanks for stopping by!
Bravo mark!! An excellent piece on depression. I would pretty much agree with most of what you said. I’m glad you’ve surfaced from this ‘deep dark’, I’ve been struggling for last couple of months with the deepening doom surrounding myself.
I find I don’t say a lot, find it very hard to talk about it. Anyway, I did find hope in this post, so thank you my friend.
Your writing skill continues to grow and can be a joy get a new episode of ‘MotM’. Love to you and your clan, johnny
Thanks Johnny. You’ve been with me all the way. From the “Mexapocalypse” to now. Thank you for stopping by. Always good to hear from you. How are you? Have you solved your living situation?
Thanks brother, that meant a lot. The living cons continue to be complicated…. The depression which I’ve been fighting has in truth been with me for years, there’s peaks and lows(where I have goodish days) but I’ve had to start on a new anti-D, Sertraline. Still early days but I’m hopeful. Early side effects can make symptoms much worse in short term, but this too will pass. To quote. Have a lot more to tell u, will DM you mate.
Congrats on the print debut!!!!! WOW!
Also I seriously have prayed for the first time. I did feel something, but am still having problems fitting it in with my worldview of so long… Watch this space……
You have no idea how often your posts resonate with and parallel my personal journey. Thank you for bringing us in.
The struggle of being in that darkness and knowing better to keep it in is LONELY and UGLY and NECESSARY.
I have noticed, too, that less alcohol (in my case) lessens the choke hold…
Feeling a bit lighter this morning because I refrained from unleashing the beast over the holidays. Feeling less alone because of your words.
I am touched. Moved. Thank you. I am feeling much less alone today because you took the time to comment and reflect on the post. Lonely, ugly, necessary. Don’t know how better to describe it. Tanya, I am so glad you refrained from unleashing that beast this holiday. I have no doubt that there is a connection (at least there always was for me) between depression and alcohol. I mean, it’s a depressive, after all. For me, it was because alcohol changed how I felt in the first place that I got so hooked on it. Anything was better than sober was what I convinced myself. Hang in there, keep coming back. Thank you for your comment.
Like Tanya, I’m feeling less alone because of your words. I typically get a blip of melancholy toward the end of each summer when I notice the light changing but then within a week or two it passes. Well, I’ve been feeling like I’m trying to move through molasses. For months now. Stinkin’ thinkin’ is rampant. So is brain smog- all cotton balls and cobwebs. Mornings are the worst but by nightfall I seem better only to wake up in a funk all over again. But I’m still sober… at least I’m sober, thanks be to God. Thanks so much for this post Mark.
Liz, without sobriety, imagine how much worse it would be? I can remember feeling this way when I was drinking. Except the dark spells would last for months and I could truly convince myself that the fog would never lift. Those are days I never want back.
Thanks for sharing about the feels you’ve been through lately. I can relate, most definitely. I haven’t had tabs on this thing yet as far as time of year. I know seasonal effective disorder is a thing but I don’t have it down as far as when these things hit.
Thanks for stopping by.
Thank you Mark. For this. And the reminder to keep showing up. That’s the key, one very important key.
But prayer works and so does going to meetings. — Yes, I have found this to be true for me as well. I find so many answers when I pray and go to meetings.
I remember one time I didn’t realize I was depressed until I noticed how angry happy people made me. Whew.
It’s funny isn’t it? So hard to see ourselves. It seems like things don’t get better (for me anyway) until I can name it. The difficulty in the admission. That’s half the battle right there. Step One of most programs. Thanks for stopping by Akilah.
Such bravery Mark. Thank you for sharing.
That is one thing I always tell myself ‘it will pass’ and as you say, up until now it always has. My philosophy, although dramatic sounding is ‘ it will pass or I’ll die ( albeit the shell I inhabit ). That little statement has carried me through many dark times.
Once again it’s awesome for you to share such a delicate, personal matter.
Peace be with you. Welcome back. ✌ 👣
Thanks Sam. Appreciate that you can acknowledge and understand the difficulty with these things. But then I hear from you, and Liz, and Johnny, and others, and I realize that they are words that need to be said. And I’m a little stronger for the process. Always good to hear from you. Take care, Mark.
We are all in recovery.
Truth, thanks, d
Hey Mark! Happy holiday’s to you and yours..
I’m Big Book 12 Steps. There’s a sense of security in the familiar and well, sometimes when I especially spiritually weak the emotional security is in the chaos. I know how to act when I’m screwed up and selfishly deciphering chaos. I need a bomb to go off to feel anything. So I wallow in my screwed up life lobbing grenades to draw attention to myself. Sometimes the silent treatment bomb is the loudest or selfishly alarming to others.. The bomb goes off and there, now you see me, now you hear me. I am here, I am valid.
I would make good use of my wife’s aggravation or anger. This brings her to my level. To co-sign her is to control her. There, I’ve stolen a emotional security boost and she doesn’t even know it. Sadly, neither do I. We just join together in harmony as we bad rap Styrofoam or plastic. It’s us against them. For the moment I am no longer the screwed up one, the plastic users are worse. Now they’re screwed up and we’re ok. This is me creating some self esteem.
Solution? I focus on my selfishness and self centered fear as suggested. I pray or meditate on my Spirit for courage and strength. The ability to see myself and be accountable is there shortly, sometimes right away. Worst case? A few days of self abuse, maybe a few hostages. But that’s me.
When I was new? or newer? “This will pass” was great. Whatever “it” is always passes and I don’t need to be accountable for my unresolved issues that follow. Nowadays? I mean sure, I want to believe others have no feelings and will forget because I do but that’s not fair..
Always love to read through your stream of conscious reflections, Sherpa. I think doing the good recovery work you do is what allows you to spill it all out honestly the way you. I relate to the many different bombs you set off. Silent treatment, self-seeking grenades. These are my weapons. As with all things, it seems, I can only hope to dismantle them in myself before I hurl them around me. I do find, though, that there are some weapons that cannot be dismantled by the most trained hands. There are some things that just don’t pass no matter what I do. Until they do.
Peace to you, sherpa. Thanks for stopping by. Mark
My depression comes and goes…I’ve learned not to feel anxious about it and just let it be there…it seems to lift quicker that way. I can relate to this very much. x
I’m glad you can relate. I think I have the same periodic spells. Very happy I get to share this journey with you.