Dear… Depression

Dear Depression,

For years, I have spent days, weeks and even months carrying the shadowy spirit of your presence on my shoulders, a burden that few can possibly understand. I have battled against a demon that possesses an arsenal of weapons that I could ever look to compete with and you, with your army of companions by your side, stand tall as I grow weaker. My energy is spent, tormented by the knowledge that I will never truly escape your grip. You have a hold upon me that no lover will break, that no friendship can weaken and that no family member can dispel. It is like a chain upon my heart, a deep wound across the recesses of my mind. You work your sinewy magic, a disappearing act that appears only when unwanted. In the very moments that I believe I am recovering from the addictive and toxic feel of your presence, you stand there and remind me that you never truly left me.

You seem to spend your life finding ways to torment me. Do you have any idea of the times that I have spent wondering if I should just continue wandering this path or whether I should just end it all? Do you have any idea what it is like to stand on top of a bridge, to watch speeding cars spin by, unaware that above them is a lonely man who contemplates ending it all? You know the reason why I don’t. I don’t end it not because I think that my life matters any more than anyone else’s. I don’t end it because I know that my death would cause more untold misery to my family than it would solve my problems. I dearly love my family and you know that. You use it as a weapon against me, reminding me that my passing would cause them hurt.

And so I continue this facade with you, this dance of the devil that lingers. I continue to pretend that I am okay. I continue to pretend that I don’t spend my nights staring at a dark ceiling, reflecting on things that happened many months ago. I continue to pretend that I wake up each day, happy with the man that reflects back at me in the mirror. I continue to pretend that I’m okay living a life where I return an empty flat with no-one to greet me, that I’m okay living a life where my work is the most important feature of my life. You know all of this. You know everything about me. I can’t hide anything from you because you, like no other creature I have encountered, are able to cast away the thin veil of my disguise and reveal to me the skeletal structure underneath me.

What makes it worse is that you plague not only me but many of those who I love. I am sure that you are capable of taking many forms, that you appear to different people at different times. I have no doubt that you are capable of revealing yourself in ways unimaginable to me. None of that, unfortunately, matters. What matters is your never-ending, unnerving ability to haunt me and keep me awake. I have tried to deny your presence for the last few months and now I can deny it no more. You are with me. You stand by me, no matter the time of the day, no matter the month or year. You stand by me.

I have spent my life battling demons and you are the greatest battle I have ever faced. You appeared to me at my weakest moments. When I lost my first and true love, you were there. When I fell in love again and I lost her, you were with me. When each of my family members passed away, you were with me. Your presence is unwanted. You were never sought out or requested. You simply appeared because you felt that you were needed. I ought to remind you that you are not needed. You are not wanted. You simply remain with me because I do not know how to get rid of you.

I have tried. You know that. I have tried to placate you with drugs. I have tried to talk you out of my life with an endless list of therapists and friends. I have tried to pretend that I am okay with cheap flings and meaningless relationships. It is time for me to be honest with you. It is not that you are a presence. It is that you are part of me now. I am depressed. You have become me and I have become you. For that, I am sorry. I am sorry that the light I once had is now eclipsed by the darkness of whatever tormented creature I have become.

Letters to…(Grief)

Dear Grief,

To say that I expected your presence to be felt so heavy this year is truly understating the reality of your impact. I recognise your presence, the lingering shadow that you leave me and my family as you join us in mourning the passing of those I hold dear and love. Your black cloak is a warning and also a blessing, reminding me that life goes on even whilst I stand idly by, frozen by your hold. Over the last few months, weeks and days, it has become impossible to escape you. You have latched onto me like a vice and refused to let go. I have pleaded with you, begged you to release me from your stranglehold. I have cried tears of sadness, wishing that it would suffice and prove to you that you are no longer needed. Yet, here you are. Watching over me. Like some maligned guardian, wanted and unwanted.

Your presence has made me into something I never imagined I would become. I have become quiet, sheltered and afraid. The world has become more dark and harrowing because you were complicit in joining forces with others in an effort to bring me down. I see you, your unholy circle of emotions. Grief, Sadness, Anger. You have all invited yourselves into my heart and I desperately want to know how I banish you from my life. I have tried all manners of things and yet you remain. You have stood with me as I watched those I love carried into the next life. You have stood with me as I screamed in anger. You have stood with me as I struggled with every emotion.

Now, you stand with me as I consider these terrible thoughts, your presence a demon waiting for me to make a mistake. I have contemplated the simple ease of ending my life, simply to be free of the hold you have on me. I came to realise that doing so would simply give you an excuse to linger around others. It does not mean those thoughts do not come. They haunt me, as you do, silent in the daylight and so loud in the darkness. How can I express to you how much I hate you for what you have made of me? Nothing more than a mess of a man, chained by emotions that I thought I had rid myself of.

Grief, I hate you. I hate what your presence means. I hate that you stand by and do nothing as more and more people leave me. You never do. You stand there, a black shadow with no face and many faces. You have the face of those I miss dearly, sometimes a blur as memories fade. You come with the sound of fond memories, trailing with you the emotions I assumed would pass. How can you care so little and so much at once? You are with me because you love me. You have remained because you hate me. Grief, you have possessed me, taken control of my mind and refused to relinquish your grip.

I go to bed at night waiting for you to enter my mind, slithering in like smoke from a fire. You take hold, stopping me from getting the sleep I desperately need. When I wake up, you return with as much force as you had before. Your power over me is unknowable, indescribable. Grief, you are a monster. You know this. I suspect that, in some way, you know what you do to people and yet you cannot leave. You can only leave when you know that your companion is safe, that they can move on with their lives. With all of the other foul unions and bonds I have made with your cohorts, I suspect you may never leave me.

I no longer know who I am with you around. I have forgotten what it means to experience happiness and joy. What was once a wonderful and incredibly colourful palette is now nothing more than greyscale. You seem to soak all the positivity in my life and use it to feed you, growing stronger every time you return. You slither away, coming back even stronger with every phone call to tell me that someone else has disappeared. I am writing to you almost because I feel like this is my last resort. I know no other solution to a problem like you.

I know that it is not your fault. You did not choose this life but you have embraced your role. I can only hope that, when you do eventually leave, you do not come back quite so quickly. I am tired of worrying that you will come back. Let me be at peace, even for a few months. Let me have my joy and happiness for a short while before you come back and shatter the illusion. Let me have something before you break the mirror and remind me that it was never truly real, that you were always there.

Perhaps, in time, you will change too. Perhaps, Grief, you will leave and then come back with new companions. Maybe then, I can accept you in my life. For now, I wish you would simply leave and never come back because my heart aches in a way it never has. My mind is never silent when you are around. Grief, please give me something. You have taken so much from me. At the very least, you can give me something back.

The Future: What It Holds

For weeks now, this website has sat idle and inactive. I have been stuck in a dilemma as to where I take a website that, in very real terms, causes me more problems than it does pleasure. I find myself struggling with ideas to write about in a world where social media allows people to form immediate opinions. The type of self-reflection and philosophical thinking that my blog is dedicated to is less appealing than it used to people and my opinions are no more valid or important than any other individual on the internet.

It is, in part, a major benefit of the development of an internet democracy that no single voice is more important than another. The problem with that is, in the age of digital social media, those who shout loudest are often the most visible. We educate our children in a traditional format, one that teaches that the informed and reasonable argument will be victorious over the loudest voices. On the internet, the opposite is true. We have seen, in the Age of Trump, that the voices of racism and far-right ideology are given a platform to promote hate. Whilst we try to drown out their voices with a positive message of hope and love, recent events have shown that we appear to be losing that battle.

People are becoming trapped and lured in by an ideology of hatred. Their dissatisfaction with their place in the world, their misguided view of the world and a sense of belonging in a hate-fuelled community has allowed them to express themselves in violent and dangerous ways. I have no interest in giving these types of events any greater media coverage than they perhaps deserve but, in witnessing this type of event, it has afforded me the opportunity to decide the direction of this blog.

I spoke with a friend recently when we discussed the subject of death. It was mentioned that my friend might like to leave letters to loved ones, to say things that might not have been said in life and to serve as a reminder of the relationship. It is a poetic and beautiful way to try and make death a more positive experience. The concept made me think: what if we applied the notion of ‘letter-writing’ to more abstract concepts, for example, our emotions?

And that’s where this blog is going. It is now going to be a series of letters to my emotions, expressing to them exactly why I think of their presence in my life. It will remain the reflective and considered style that I believe best suits my personality but will be more self-critical. I will begin with a subject which is, at present, close to my heart and mind – grief. It is something which, at some point in our lives, grabs all of us by the neck and drags us through the forest of its creation. When we exit, we become different people and I want to tap into that. How frequent these abstract letters will be is very much dependent on the fluidity of my emotions.

For now, however, we will begin this week with a reflection of grief. I will write to grief as if it were a person, someone who had waltzed into my life unwelcome and made their presence felt. Look forward to that. It will be with you shortly.