Depressed?

You name it. The gloom, the sad music, the tears, and the cold. At times I thought I've triumphed over these downcast signs of... what is it called, depression? But practically I'm now quite in the middle of depression and exhilaration - "depration", that's how I call it.

One reason I don't really say I'm depressed is because I've heard from one of the psychiatrists I highly respect regards "depression", the real thing, as a type of mental illness. For the love of... I'm certainly not a mental patient. So I laughed when people say they're depressed. Depression has these signs that lasts for months, 2 then up to 6 months. The signs include lasting loneliness, inactivity, withdrawal, solitude and poor or excessive diet. Depression is not the term you call to your feelings when you're sad for a single day, or even two days. That sadness can certainly be shooed away as quick as it came if it is properly channeled to an outlet like physical activity, a listening boyfriend, or a readership of the Bible. You don't call yourself depressed if you're just that, lonely, unless you're lonely almost everyday and cannot cope up.

Depression is such a scary thing. It can change who you are. It changes the way you think and how you associate with people. Sometimes you don't even want to associate yourself with anybody. You prefer to lock yourself up and stop performing your habits, especially the healthy ones. Most of the time you get a narrow perception on things. And that narrow path of vision points toward your inner self, yourself blaming yourself. Depression is interestingly self-centered at times. You say to yourself: "I'm not good enough, no one loves me, I'm a failure, I don't know what to do, I'm incompetent, I'm a disappointment", blah, blah, blah. Depression is partly negative self-talk. Stupidly enough, you are putting yourself in a dreadful state with your own doing.

But depression has a handful of upsides. It had created a way for famous artists, musicians, and actors to thread on. One person I won't forget is Gogh. You can tell from his works that he's all blue (I even thought he hates his life) and that lingering sadness in his being found its refuge on his paint and canvass. Dabbing brush, mixing colors, then losing his ear. A lonely life as some biographers might say, unacknowledged until he died. The upside of depression, his fame in the arts, realized AFTER he died. It's certainly lonely that you aren't famous while you're living. Your death made you famous but you're not there to witness it, let alone enjoy it and lead you out of depression.

I bit my tongue. Depression has no upsides if you'll get as miserable as that.

But let me tell you this. I won't admit that I'm depressed right now. But I've been. And it was diagnosed early  on when I'm a first year college student. Those test results simply didn't lie and gave me away. I almost lost all the motivation to study for the second year for fear of being misjudged as "may kalembang". I almost believe I do have it (haha) but only to realize that I was found guilty of depression. That's one year imprisonment for you! Goodness, I've admitted that I am indeed depressed. But I was not like those cheesy girls who nag their boyfriends or girl friends with phrases like "Uuuy, depressed ako, grabe!" or posting sad emoticons in social media every other minute because they burned a steak or kicked a dog and telling the world that they are depressed because of those damn reasons. They clearly don't know what they are talking about.

As for me, depression was a killer. A killer of my natural happiness and gay attitude. It's a killer of my talent and meager intellect. It's a death-ringer of my relationships with other people. It's a dark cloud which covered me everywhere. It's a block in my ears, a clot in my veins, and a skip in my heartbeat. My smiles were all fake. And I'm just a teenager. Away from the comforts of home, left by my two warmest friends, pressured by inner conflicts within myself.

Looking back, I thought I was lucky I didn't lose it all. As the psychiatrist have told us (don't get me wrong, I'm not consulting him; he's our program's resource person), depression can ultimately lead to hurting yourself, then suicide. The pain is just too great you will succumb to it and end it once and for all with a gun in your head or a bottle of muriatic acid in your hand. That is, if you lack in your life a loving family, thoughtful friends, kind mentors, and religion. I have all of that which others lack.

I've also realized through the course of time that depression is a weakness of the mind versus heart. If you have a resolve that can be easily swayed, you're dead. When you're depressed you lose most or all of your common sense. You also lose happy memories. The thing you're most depressed about are not worth crying for, or if it's worth crying for, you lose all your strength to face it head on. You just turn and let it bother you for months, then you're out. I'm lucky I have people who brought me back to my senses regularly. They made things make sense. I'm proved to be a fool for that, but at least I was out of depression.

The psychiatrist told me indirectly that I'm melancholic and it can lead to depression. Add another handful of negative stress and depression can be tasted - for me, again. That's why each and everyone of us should lead a prayerful, healthy and active life to nip that depression before it blooms into a rotten-smelling flower - as stinky as the famous and largest flower specie found in the rain forests of Sumatra and Borneo. To keep your mind off those worrisome thoughts is highly effective to make depression behave itself. Treat depression as an unwanted entity and kick it out of your system through divine intervention, and you're the happiest person on earth afterwards. Depression won't help you so don't brag about it but get rid of it.

Aah. What a relief to see myself writing this stuff. Good news, I have a bucketful of stress these past weeks but I know how to correct myself and laugh at it. I was just afraid it might be proven too late before I can make up for my lapses. But there is a lesson in everything that happens. I just have to admit I am to blame for all the mess, and everything will be fine again if I would be given the chance to rectify it. If only there is another chance.

I'm so busy praying for that chance I don't have time to entertain depression.