I recently realized that I can’t get depressed anymore. It’s messed up my whole schedule.
No, really. I imagine it’s like kicking a drug habit. Once you get clean, you realize you have to trash all your drug paraphernalia, and find new ways to spend your down time, and boot all of your druggie friends. From a time management perspective alone it’s a major hassle.
Don’t get me wrong - I still get down from time to time. I’m a human being after all, but it’s been a looong time since I sat there and counted up all the reasons why I’m a failure (or whatever). I certainly haven’t become one of these “positive vibes only” guys, and I think reciting daily affirmations about one’s wonderfulness is, for most people, just another way to wind up for another long ennui bender.
I think I realized it when I couldn’t stand listening to a favorite Pandora station. Somehow, this Max Richter guy had come across my feed a couple of years ago. (Probably during an odd Howard Shore phase, which I can’t believe I’m writing about publicly). Richter’s music seemed to be a fantastic aid to reaching - and maintaining - deep work, whether it was video editing or writing.
But Richter also became the soundtrack for those tired and burned out times. It was a negative affirmation, really.
Anyway, I was driving to work, already exhausted from some pretty hefty burdens, and so I punched in Max Richter. After about five minutes I turned it off and said - actually said - out loud, “What the hell am I doing?”
This morose, “haunting,” “post-classical” blend of electronic and rock didn’t complement and affirm my mood - it convicted me of some truly pusillanimous behavior.
I thought about it for a bit and realized that with the load I was carrying that week, normally I’d be in full-on “I suck” mode. But…I wasn’t. In fact, I hadn’t been for quite awhile…
What happened?
Lots of things, actually. Untangling it all is kind of the purpose of this stack, so I’m not going to try to pack it all in to this post. Suffice it to say that fixing a couple of first principles ahead of me served as a lifeline.
Switching off that constant transmission from the Pit certainly helped - the so-called “negative self-talk.” And constantly reminding myself of past failures - yeah, that was a dumb strategy. I cut off, either just “emotionally” or with actual physical distance, anyone who thought it was helpful to remind me of the screw-ups. Getting back in shape was a gigantic boost as well. Our bodies are as much a reason for depression as anything in our minds, and I’m not talking about vanity here. It’s nice to have a beach body (which I don’t have), but it’s actually working this flesh unit as intended that makes the difference. We’re a body-soul composite, after all, not just a ghost in a machine.
Proper nutrition was a big part of it as well.
These are all the things the “gurus” and the Twitter bros tell you to do. They’re making fortunes with advice our grandparents used to tell us. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Go play outside. Have some yams.” Old remedies are new again.
Lighting a Fire
All of those things were just tactics, though. If you don’t have a big Why before you, there’s going to be a big void in the center of all your self-improvement activity. At some point along the line, I knew I needed a massive boulder of a Why to stand on. Something that would remain stable during the inevitable times when I would not be stable.
This is where you might expect someone writing about “seeking” and “voids” and “Big Whys” to say, “And that’s when I found Jesus.” Well, yes, there was some of that, but He was still pretty far out there. I had no (or maybe very few) moments of “consolation” as they’re called. In fact, I still had a lot of bitterness about the overhyped and over-marketed “relationship with Jesus.” In hindsight, I can see how He was at work, but at the time, the underlying thought was, “I have to do this myself.”
Anyway, to switch the metaphor from boulders to fire, I needed to ignite a fire that would burn, virtually untended, forever. Depression takes hold for a lot of reasons, but one that resonated the most with me is this idea that depression comes from feeling a loss of control. Things just happen to you. You don’t have a choice. You have to make do with that you have.
It’s crap, because when that becomes your dominant mode of thought, you turn inward for escape or solace. Or, you self-medicate with all the vices. You become passive. And you know what kind of “man” you are when I say you become “a pusillanimous person.”
You need a fire. Something that animates and energizes you. Working your way into it, or “motivating” yourself, is a temporary fix at best. What you need is a fire that burns whether you’re tending it or not.
For me, it wasn’t the acquisition of wealth, or admiration (or even acceptance) of my wife, or even, if I’m being completely honest here, the well-being of my children, although all of those are important. I think - and this is a relatively new thought here - that I didn’t want to lose.
This thought is fraught with peril, of course. It’s an arrogant thought. It’s proud. It’s self-serving. But you know what? It was true. And it helped.
Finally believing in the Why
There was a moment last year when the choice seemed clear: my family was better off without me. I seemed to be screwing everything up, the gulf between my wife and I was even wider than I realized (and getting wider), my career was basically non-existent, and it was starting to seem like my kids were doing fine without me. The life insurance policy was starting to seem like a better husband and father than I would ever be.
It got so bad that I even resolved to go out to the desert somewhere in Oklahoma and just end it.
Yeah.
A couple of things kept me from going into the desert: One: the kids. I’d basically be murdering them in every way but literally. Two: EFF this loser BS.
I got mad. Beyond angry. It was cold. It’s like I turned around and saw the demon that had been whispering in my ear all my life. He was grotesque, but also kind of pathetic - squat, paunchy, wreathed with loose skin and stringy hair… Kind of like Gollum after five decades of drinking PBR in his Lazy Boy, watching Jeopardy and yelling at the “idiot” contestants.
I was kind of shocked. Where was this competitive spirt coming from? Was it just a neurological consequence of watching so many underdog-hero movies?
The incandescent fact that came out of that moment was this: the only option I have left is to win. And by “winning,” I didn’t mean getting the Lambo. I wanted to be a good man. A rock for my family and others. I wanted to rest assured in the knowledge that I was a beloved son of God. And, yes, down the list, not first, but definitely not last, was “be a good provider.”
My ONLY option was to become the man I was called to be. It’s all I wanted all along. It was hardly a revelation, but for the first time I believed it was attainable.
Falling to the level of one’s discipline
One thing I know for sure: It didn’t just happen. I may have actually gone through with that insane (literally insane) plan IF I hadn’t already been building positive habits. Even if I’d been going through the motions, for the most part, working to achieve hazy, undefined goals, I’d been training my mind and my soul to do and be better.
So, I think it came down to what I wrote in an earlier post: “You don’t rise to the occasion; you fall to the level of your discipline.” I’d hit the bottom (I certainly hope), but that bottom that had been significantly raised without me even noticing.
I’m going through the meat grinder right now. I shouldn’t talk about most of it, but suffice it to say that it’s real, it’s painful, and if this had happened a few years ago, I might not have made it. But weirdly enough - so weird, in fact, that I wonder if I’m going through some kind of prolonged fugue state - I’m actually freaking happy. It might even be called “joy.” Not in some kind of permagrin way, but actually enjoying life. Enjoying the fight.
In fact, I should write about that - enjoying the fight. That’ll be the next one.
Thanks for reading,
Chris
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Your words not only touched me, they reached inside and awakened the ancient knowledge we were given to live by or ignore. Thank you for helping to wake me up.