Shawn Henfling offers a glimpse into his mind in the midst of a depressive episode.
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I’m supposed to be in a good place right now. New job on the horizon, big move to an area I’ve missed. Opportunities opening up everywhere. Life is finally opening up in front of me, like a flower ready for full bloom. It doesn’t feel that way though. Right now, as my carefully constructed house of cards begins to crumble, it feels like I’m sliding helplessly back into The Abyss. As things continue to pile onto one another, the anxiety builds, the depression deepens and the opportunities I know are just beyond the horizon slip further out of sight.
When I get depressed it doesn’t mean that I’m sad. Far from it really. I don’t get “sad” and really can’t identify with the emotion. I’m not upset because I lost a lottery ticket or dropped the jug of milk. While those things can be triggers, I’ve learned to take a deep breath, accept them and move on. They are the same minor annoyances to me as they are to most people. However, anything larger than a pebble in the road still has the potential to rip me from my place in the light and pull me silently screaming into the darkness.
♦◊♦
Here I am, sitting quietly and alone, trying to decide who and how to reach out to this time. Desperately I want to quit bothering people, to just get over it, to stop wallowing in self pity. I hate myself for it. I despise knowing how tiring it must be for everyone to keep hearing from me over and over, like a toddler who keeps venturing too close to the stairs. I don’t wish this on anyone. I function out of necessity but given my preference I’d not leave my bed in the morning. I can’t describe what it’s like or how it feels.
Serving time in solitary with naught but the voices of blame, anger, self loathing and despair to keep me company has become a cruel and uncompromising prison.
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I’m locked inside my own head. Serving time in solitary with naught but the voices of blame, anger, self loathing and despair to keep me company has become a cruel and uncompromising prison. If you want to know what it’s like to be me most days, just sit in a quiet room and find reasons to blame yourself. Look for ways to create anger and resentment over things that do not exist. Dig deep into your insecurities for all of the ways you’ve screwed up. Once you’ve identified them, repeat them to yourself until you feel like you can’t take it anymore. Then keep going.
Let the fear carry you deeper as the reality of your failures hides the successes you’ve had. Like the best haunted house at an amusement park, the specters of misdeeds and inadequacies both real and imagined spring from the darkness. Unlike the rides, their cold and unforgiving grasp paralyzes you. As they pull you deeper, the exit becomes a distant memory, an impossible goal. You struggle to recapture the feeling but it’s phantom presence only hastens your pace downward. As you fall faster into The Abyss, the realization of inevitability finally sinks in.
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I know my life isn’t that bad. Knowing somehow makes this worse. Knowing brings the tears. The knowledge that I shouldn’t feel this way, that I should somehow be stronger makes me weaker. I don’t understand it. Knowing how much worse others have it makes me hate myself. These setbacks and speed bumps are nothing more than opportunities to recenter and evaluate. Instead, I internalize them and blame myself for them. I should have found a way to prevent it, no matter what “it” is.
The allure of being done with the struggle, of moving beyond the boundaries of your own head are incredible.
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It’s times like this I understand the suicide rate amongst the mentally ill. I’m not there, but I understand. I get it. Continuing the fight, endlessly, day after day is exhausting. I simply cannot describe this level of tired. The allure of being done with the struggle, of moving beyond the boundaries of your own head are incredible. That struggle and the burden that come with it are damn near impossible to live with.
Like alcoholism and drug addiction, we have to ask for help before we’ll truly get it. I’m there. Finally, I’m there. I can’t continue to do this alone. With each successive rise I somehow find an even further fall. Briefly, I saw what it could mean to end the struggle. Eventually though, it caught up to me. I sit here now realizing that I need help. 9 months after starting medication I realize it isn’t enough. I can’t just rely on a pill to help me fix my broken mind. Once in its icy clutches, the darkness will fight hard to pull you deeper into The Abyss. The promise I felt early on is gone, and with it all of the progress I’d made. I am sick. Mental illness cannot be willed away and I need help.
Authors Note: To be clear, I am not suicidal. I confess these things not for pity. Instead, I want to call attention to what it’s like for people like myself. We don’t ask or choose to be miserable.
If you or someone you know is currently in crisis. Don’t wait. Get help.
–1-800-273-8255 -The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Photo Credit: Michael Cordedda/flickr
Bingo! The first time I’ve read an article that explains EXACTLY what depression is like.
Thanks for sharing this. It’s how I feel most days. Life is going well for me, and yet I cannot see the forest for the trees. Each day is a struggle and I feel so alone. I never feel like I fit in and I never feel “normal”. Always the outsider. I know this is not likely true, I just find it so hard to connect with people. I feel like I’m living a perpetual lie when I talk to people. I put on the smile and I talk the small talk, but I never really feel happiness or connectedness… Read more »
Shawn, Sharing the darkness somehow takes away the terror. Somehow we know if we can get a little distance between ourselves and the enveloping darkness there is hope. I first became acquainted with depression when I was five year’s old and my father tried to commit suicide. He survived physically, but our life was never the same. I spent much of my adult life running away from my depression, but I could never run fast enough and it always caught up with me. I thought being a therapist and mental health professional would protect me. It didn’t. I writing kept… Read more »
Thank you for this. It helps knowing I am not alone. The love of my life left me because he could no longer battle with me. While I am angry with him for leaving, I don’t blame him. Being a victim of your own mind is truly one of the worse feelings, the saddest part is the people you love the absolute most often don’t understand how hard it is to break free and be “ok”.
You put into words exactly how I feel. I am bipolar, along with many other things. So I’ll have bits on mania here and there. But mostly I live in a dark hole. Your words hit me hard. It’s like you are in my head. I’ve had 4 suicide attempts. I just can’t get it right. I guess I’m supposed to be here but I’m not sure why. I used to have a successful career and now I can’t even work. I’m a shell. Alone. I hope to be able to keep up with you as it’s easier knowing I’m… Read more »
Cory,
I’ve written quite a bit about my continuing battle, including the ups and downs. I hope to continue to do so because it helps me see a little more clearly. Above all, I understand. You may be alone in your thoughts but there are many of us engaged in the same battles. You can see the rest of what I’ve done here https://goodmenproject.com/author/shawn-henfling/ if you’d like. Alone is a feeling none of us should have, and I share these things hopefully to help others like us see that.
Dear Shawn
I read myself today. Everything I read is me.
I have had this conversation with myself for
Years; but more so in the last 6 months.
Thanks for reminding me I’m not alone.
I wish you all the best. You’re helping so
Many people including myself. Thank you!
My thanks to you as well. If I hadn’t shared this or my other pieces, I don’t know if I’d still be here. Somehow putting those dark thoughts onto paper helps push them away for a little while. My best to you and your continued battle.
Thanks to all of you for the kind words. Every day is a battle, and some of them you have to search for a reason to stay alive. A friend recently told me “try to remember those voices in your head are not your own. They whisper loudly but are of no consequence.” Battle on my friends and live to see another day.
I hear what you’re saying good Sir, and it’s almost like reading my own words, written over the many years of my battle with mental illness. Best of luck to you and your loved ones. Keep speaking out… Guys like myself need to hear this and know we’re not alone after all. Peace and love brother!
Thanks for sharing this. My experience is exactly as you describe it. Thought I’m sad that either of us have to suffer with this, it’s nice to know that I’m not alone in this. It can feel like you’re crazy when you think you’re the only one experiencing something. Knowing others are going through it somehow legitimizes it, makes it real (not an imagined problem.). Of possible interest – this website and related books have helped me a bit : http://tinybuddha.com/ and http://www.eckharttolletv.com/books/newearth/
You describe it well. It’s like standing in the surf, the sky gray, the water cold and I am slammed by a cold gray wave and sucked under, until I dont know which way is up and there is no light and I can’t breathe. There’s no way to tell which way is up and I amtoo exhausted and immobilized to fight it. Winston Churchill called depression the black dog. One day I open the front door and there is the dog. I don’t know why it is there. It follows me everywhere.
I have battled with anxiety and depression for basically all of my adult life and I have never read something that summed up the way this disease makes me feel so well. Kudos.
Thank you for writing this. I’ll be sharing with my husband… I’m laying in bed right now, on Mother’s Day, in desperation… You aren’t alone, then again, neither am I.
Thanks for explaining what it feels like and to put it into words. I too will be showing this to my husband how is still by my side after 20yrs.