My original concepts for this entry were a lot darker than this will end up being. The reason for that is basically that I started out the month of April in a pretty bad depressive state. I’ve been there before and (unfortunately) I know I’ll be there again. It doesn’t matter how often I go through it, or how prepared I think I am, it’s never a good thing. Although, I did joke that I was glad it happened because it helped me lose some of the weight I was struggling to take off. April is just about over now and I’m doing better. But, for how long?

None of the issues that triggered my depression have seen any resolution. In fact, they’re basically all still as they were, if not worse. I’ve been able to cope with them though. And while I’m feeling a bit better, I still feel like I’m constantly on the verge of another bad spell.

This entry may end up skipping around a little bit without good transitions from one thought to the next. But, that’s basically how my head has been for a while. So, bear with me.

I’ve gone into this before, but I like running in 5k races. I’ve often said that they’re usually good for my mental health. They give me a goal and no matter how I do, as long as I’ve finished a race, I’ve accomplished something. For various reasons, I skipped a few last year. Despite being in this depression, I was determined not to miss the first one that I usually do. I don’t like the course. I know it’s one of the more challenging ones that I do. I barely slept in the weeks or so leading up to the race. I did my best to get some sleep the night before and I did the race. My time was 31:12.8. That was my 2nd slowest finish out of 27 races that I’ve done. Normally, that would disappoint me. However, in this case it doesn’t bother me (that much). I was EXHAUSTED after the race. How my body felt after the race told me all I needed to know about it. I gave it EVERYTHING I had. I finished. I just didn’t finish as quickly as I would have liked. But, I still felt good afterwards. Drained, but good.

A few days later I went to see one of my favorite bands, Life of Agony, play two nights in a row in their hometown of Brooklyn. Concerts are usually a good thing for me. But, Life of Agony shows are different for me. I don’t just go to their shows to enjoy the music. I go to their shows to let out emotions. I feel like everyone there is dealing with something and we all let it out together, even if we don’t know each other. I was lucky enough to do this twice in two days. My high continued.

As I was writing the last few sentences I realized how similar of a story I wrote a few years ago. I guess it proves that my problems seem to be cyclical. It also shows me how important things such as music are to me. I already knew it, but these entries make it seem more tangible.

But what now? I don’t feel as good as I did after the shows. I don’t feel as bad as I did leading up to them. Life keeps piling on pressures and expenses for me. I’m doing what I can to survive. But, when will surviving turn into thriving? When will anything get easier? Notice that I’m attempting to be positive in my cynicism. I’m not thinking about when surviving becomes too much of a burden. I’m aiming for better things than that. Although, believe me, my mind struggles to believe there will be a change for the better.

These entries DO help me. They are a good outlet for me. When I’m at my job and a deep (sometimes dark) thought comes to my mind, I’ll write it down. Sometimes those thoughts will end up being the genesis of one of these blog entries. Sometimes they’ll end up on Twitter. Other times, they’re just written down and that’s it. As I was at my recent low point, the stuff I was posting on Twitter definitely took a darker tone than I’m used to posting on there. I’m sure some of those thoughts I had ended up there instead of here.
People that read those tweets did reach out to me. Some were very concerned. I even had someone that I don’t know from another country ask if he could help. Stuff like that makes me feel better, and yet lonely at the same time. That would seem weirder to me if it didn’t make total sense.

I think this entry is another one of my “scratching the surface” entries that has a few topics that I should dig deeper into at some point. If I do that I could find it very therapeutic. Or, maybe it could give me a lot of anxiety. Who knows?

I also think upcoming entries that I’ll be writing may have a more brooding tone to them. It’s not me being pessimistic, it’s just my gut feeling. It’s actually ironic to say that I’m having a feeling in my gut, since I spent much of the past month feeling empty inside.

That last sentence was an example of how I try to make fun of my own situation. It goes back to what one of my true heroes, Carrie Fisher said “If my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true. And that is unacceptable.” There’s times that laughter is the best medicine, even if what I’m laughing at is my own problems. It’s that type of insanity that keeps me sane.

I think the entire point of this entry is that when I’m down, I can’t stay down. I have to do things. I can’t just lay around and do nothing, as much as it’s my natural instinct to do. I’ve said a few times that it’s hard to be happy when my default is set to miserable. I need to do things that legitimately make me smile. I need to do things that genuinely make me feel good, even if for just a little while. A 5k race or seeing a particular band, even though I can barely afford to do any of those events, provides me with some of the relief that I desperately need. I try so hard to provide myself with those moments and I try to provide them to friends that are in need of the same.

Depression isn’t just a phase for me. It’s much bigger than that. Smiling may be a phase, but it’s a phase that I’m hoping to extend.