The Sadness

I had a fraction of a huge conversation last night about the subject of suicide and depression. It was just a small talk. I stated that I don’t understand how there aren’t more suicides everyday than there already are, especially when dealing with depression. I have bouts with depression every day. It’s extremely painful. My last post was about feeling hope, and was rather positive. I do have hope, and I try to remain positive. The depression only bleeds through and gives me doubt every now and then. However, sometimes the hope and happiness bleed through the depression and makes me doubt my happiness. It’s a constant battle, and it’s amazingly cruel and painful.

The worst part about being depressed is how it affects other people. It makes them feel like they are the cause, or that they are unable to make you happy, or that you just have a bad, negative attitude on life. It makes people wonder how the feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and loneliness are even possible when everyday interaction and smiles are exchanged. It’s difficult to explain. I can’t blame anything in particular for making me sad. I can’t explain what I’m sad about. All I can say is that it’s nobody’s fault that I feel depressed when I am depressed. There isn’t anything that can be done. They say that meds help, but I have yet to find one that does. It’s this huge weight of dread, guilt, hopelessness, and fear that lays heavy on my heart. On my soul, if you believe in that type of thing. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there, and it’s miserable. Maybe it’s because I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life, accompanied by not knowing what it is that I’m supposed to be doing with my life? Maybe it’s because I neglect the passions in my life? It feels like if I want to spend more time doing the things that bring me passion and happiness, those around me would get neglected. Maybe I get sad because I’ve never done the things that I’ve truly wanted to do. Who knows? Like I said, I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

The funny thing is, I feel more comfortable writing this out rather than saying it to someone. Rather than saying it to anyone, really. I’m afraid I’ll be made fun of, or completely misunderstood. I feel that no one would listen or take me seriously enough because it’s so confusing. It’s frustrating to feel like this. It’s frustrating to feel like there is no way to explain what’s going on in my mind to anyone, not even professionals. Feeling like that makes it seem as though I am truly alone. That I have to put on the act of being okay when I’m not, because no one understands, and if they did, they wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t take me seriously. They would point the finger at me and say that it’s all my fault for feeling the way I do. I’m a strange cookie, I guess. I can put on a game face and talk to anyone. I can put on a game face and connect with anyone. The problem is, that gives off a false impression that my world is great, and that nothing is ever wrong. Maybe I just think too much? Who knows? The show must go on either way.

There are some cures to my depression. When I feel so hopeless that it’s hard to breath, I get in touch with my best friend and talk about music. I talk about the music we used to love when we were young. We talk about members of bands that we’ve always adored, we talk about different types of music, we talk about shows we used to go to, shows we would like to go to, and how much things have changed. We talk about things that we know. It takes my mind off of everything. It makes me feel like I did when I was young. I would like to say that it makes me happy, or that it makes me remember a time when I was happy. The truth is, I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been happy. The even worse thing is, I can’t blame anyone for my unhappiness. Things are so much easier when you can blame someone or something. I can’t. This will be misconstrued as me being a crybaby, or me being an asshole. No one is to blame. I guess it’s just how I’m wired. I don’t want anyone thinking that they have ever been the cause of my unhappiness, or that I am or have ever been unhappy due to them. That’s not the case whatsoever. The people in my life give me joy, the people in my life give me purpose, the people in my life are the only things that bring a sense of hope and happiness that I have. Without them, all is lost.

Enough rambling. Back to my point. It is surprising that there aren’t more suicides. The feeling that I experience sadness every day. When I’m not feeling it, I still know it’s there waiting to rear up its ugly head. I’ve been extremely selfish before, but I’m not selfish enough to end it due to the pain that my depression causes me. I have too many people who I would let down if I were gone. I have too much life to live to let go. I’d be a horrible therapist, because I couldn’t sit and tell someone that the pain is worth living through. I hope it is. All I know is that, tomorrow is another day. It’s another day that is unknown. You never know what tomorrow is going to bring. It may be good, it may be bad, it may be exactly the same as the day before. The point is, you are never going to know unless you live to see it. Hold on.

 

Blind Hope

It feels good to have hope. Over the last four years or so, there have been times that I’ve felt extremely lost, lonely, helpless, and without hope. Even though when I would try to put things in perspective by realizing that there are people out there that have nothing, I have still had those horrible, dismal feelings. They say that misery loves company, so during these bouts of hopelessness, I’ve managed to make those around me miserable. Some people have stood by me, waited, and weathered the storms with me. Others have jumped ship. I don’t blame them at all.

Ever since I got out of the military, I’ve tried to figure out who I am. Over the last four years I’ve attempted to pick up the pieces of who I was before I joined the military. Combining them with the pieces that are left of what I got out of the military, it’s been a struggle to make sense of it all. I’ve done what I thought I was supposed to do. Through all of it, I still don’t know who the hell I am. I learn more everyday.

I’ve made a ton of mistakes, and I feel like an asshole over most of them. I’ve learned from them, and I’ve tried to be a better person because of them. I’m still trying to do my best, but sometimes it doesn’t seem good enough. Through all of these situations, mistakes, and bad luck, I’ve felt utterly hopeless at times. But, I’m still alive, and I still have a purpose. I get ashamed of myself for getting so down and out due to the things that I’m blessed with.

Lately, I’ve truly started to see all of the things I’m blessed with. I just graduated college with a double major that I worked long and hard for. I’m going to be starting on my master’s degree in the fall. I’ve maintained a roof over my head, and I’ve always been able to keep food in my belly, along with anyone that I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with. I’ve got friends and family that love me, and I have a wonderful lady that loves me enough to have a child with me. All of these things I have, and I am truly blessed because of it. Because of these things, I have hope. Because of this hope, I’m looking forward to whatever tomorrow brings. Because of this hope, I’m no longer dwelling on the bad things I’ve done, and the horrible mistakes that I’ve made. This hope is helping me find out who I am, and who I want to be. I’m starting to slowly like who I am. I’ve never felt that way before. It feels good to have hope.

My Memory

I’ve been accused of thinking too much at times. I know there could be worse accusation than that, so I guess I’ll go ahead and agree with that accusation. As I’ve said before in other posts, I have a vivid memory. Although I don’t remember much of my childhood, I have amazing recall from the age of around 15 up to now. Smell is the most intense trigger, followed by sound. I love my memories. I used to get sad and depressed when I would recall the past, but I’m not going to punish myself any longer by focussing on regrets. I’ve got a lot of life to live, and I refuse to live it miserably by beating myself up all the time. My regrets always cloud out the amazing experiences I’ve had, and the amazing things I’ve seen. No more. Where I’ve been and what I’ve done has made me who I am today. I’ve made my amends, or attempted to. I’m looking forward to the future. The last few times I’ve recollected stuff, it has put me in a good mood because I’ve focussed on the simple, little things that made whatever memory I recall important to me. My perception. Perception is reality. I’m very thankful that I’m blessed with my memories. I hope to make many more. They are my happy places, and I’m truly blessed with them. Instead of looking at some of them as places that I’ll never get back to, I look at them as places that I’m lucky to have been. I’ll get back to some of them someday, and I’ll add new places to want to return to.

I can sit and remember the way butter schnitzel smelled in Germany. I can close my eyes and perfectly remember all of the wonderful things I seen, and all of the wonderful laughs that I laughed while I was there. I can remember how the sun lit up the hill sides on while riding through the countryside in France, on my way to Paris from Spangdhalem. I can remember how old and beautiful Liege, Belgium is. I can smell the scent of Spring outside, and recall how the time I spent in Amsterdam was. Whenever I smell curry, it reminds me of Singapore. It was one of the hottest places I’ve ever been. When my unit’s flight landed, I remember how the windows automatically fogged up. I can smell certain types of beer and remember how amazing the night life was there. The people were friendly, the weather was amazing, and the food was outstanding. The memory that sticks out the most while I was in Singapore was sitting out in front of the flat that my unit and I were staying in, the sun beating down on me, I was drinking a beer and playing my cheap, black, Fender acoustic on the front steps. I was 21 years old. Whenever I sit outside in the summer and it’s miserably hot and muggy, I think of that particular Singapore memory and it makes the weather a little more bearable. Every time I smell steak, or hear a song by the Beatles, I think of Japan. I had amazing food at a Japanese steak house in Misawa, and I karaoked my ass off in Misawa and Kadena. When I smell pulled or roasted pork, I immediately think of Guam. Guam was beautiful. It’s called the poor man’s Hawaii. I remember going to a beach party there, and I ate Hotnon Babui. I also remember a patio party outside of where we were staying on Anderson Air Base. Our Japanese counterparts were having a cookout, and the smell of hot dogs filled the air. However, the difference was that instead of using buns, they would cut the hot dogs up and eat them with chop sticks. We ultimately ended up drunk and singing Beatles songs. Every time I go into the school I attend, the smell of one of the buildings is identical to the smell of the barracks I lived in while stationed in Alaska. Sometimes the smell of the fall reminds me of the Rockies when I drove through them and lived in the Wasatch Front while stationed in Utah. Memory is a hell of a thing.

Oddly enough, if I close my eyes and let my mind take me to the beaches of Jamaica and Cozumel, Mexico, I can actually hear the ocean in my mind. It’s almost like I go into a semi-state of sleep. When I concentrate like that, I actually feel like I’m back on those beaches. My mind can actually trigger my senses, and I can almost smell the scent of Tropicana tanning lotion, beach sweat, and the salt of the ocean in the air. Usually after engaging in a memory like that, I go to sleep, and I sleep well. This used to give me a sense of longing to be back on those beaches. It would make my heart hurt knowing and thinking that I would probably never smell those smells again, or feel that warmth of the sand under my toes. Now, it just makes me smile. I may never see, smell, hear, or feel those things again other than in my mind. But, I can’t honestly say that with complete certainty. Even if I could, it doesn’t mean that I won’t experience something close to them, or better. The same goes for those areas in Europe and Asia that I’ve had the honor of going to. I look forward to anything that comes my way, especially travelling again. From the ages of 19-30, I moved every 3 or 4 years, and I travelled around the world from wherever I lived. Once I moved back home, I took a couple amazing vacations over a 3 year span. I think that I’ve got the travel bug again. I’m not used to sitting in one place for too long.

The point of this post is that I appreciate the little things. The things that are only mine in those memories are the smells and sensations that I experienced. They are no one elses. Everyone experiences things differently, and that is what makes memories one of a kind. They should be appreciated as such. I will feel more things throughout my life that will make me appreciate my life even more. The way I experience them will be the way they are remembered. They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. I hope that not only my life, but the smells, visions, sensations, and sounds flash through my mind as well.

Thankful #5

1. I’m thankful for sunny spring days, and the smells that they bring.

2. I’m thankful for the hope that a new start brings.

3. I’m thankful for honesty.

4. I’m thankful for the ability to let go of regrets and mistakes, and the ability to learn from them. (A new concept to me)

5. I’m thankful for the people who read what I write, and care about how I feel.

Thankful #4

1. I’m thankful for the open ears that listen to me.

2. I’m thankful for the people that have never let me down.

3. I’m thankful for the people that I’ve let down, and that still find it in themselves to love me.

4. I’m thankful for prayer.

5. I’m thankful that even though this can be a cruel world, there are still those out there that honestly believe that it’s worth being a part of.

Alright

I just want everything to be alright. I want to make people happy, and I want to be happy. I want to look at the world in the way I used to. I used to do anything to make someone smile, or make them feel good about themselves. Over the course of the last two or three years, I’ve become callused, skeptical, and cynical. It makes me miserable. I want to trust people again, and most importantly, I want to trust myself. If there was a drug to take to fix everything, I’d be a junkie. Unfortunately, there isn’t a quick fix to any of it. I hope the people I love will bear with me as I try to change. This change will be for the better. I have to start taking life on life’s terms. I need to be the person I know I can be, and the person I’ve been before. I need support. I need hope. I have to make things better than they are. I will. I want everything to be alright.

Thankful #3

1. I’m thankful for the love I have in my heart for others, even though it breaks my heart all of the time.

2. I’m thankful for hugs that comfort.

3. I’m thankful for the tears I’ve cried. They prove that I still have a heart, even though I’m sure many don’t think that I do.

4. I’m thankful for the ability to think clearly.

5. I’m thankful for those that have believed in me, even when I haven’t believed in myself.

I’m Better Than This.

All of the horrible feelings of guilt and shame are preventing me from feeling happiness. For the last 16 years, I’ve done some pretty dirty, shameful things to people who didn’t deserve it. I’ve been sub-human in a lot of cases. I’ve built up a lot of shame. I’ve tried to make amends to most of the people I’ve hurt in my life. Some people accepted my apologies, some people didn’t. I’ve been beating myself up for 16 years over these things. I’m tired of it.

I’ve got a lot to look forward to, and I have a ton of things to be thankful for. However, the shame I feel for the bad things I’ve done, said, and felt towards people when they didn’t deserve it is making my cup half empty when it’s actually the fullest it’s ever been. It’s not a particularly good way to feel, and it prevents me from showing those that I love an accurate realization of how much they mean to me. It’s not fair to them to get the gloomy side of me. It’s not fair to them to get the side that they don’t deserve. They deserve the best, and I’m not providing that. I’m making people around me miserable. I’m projecting my guilt, shame, and anxiety onto them. That is shameful in itself.

I can do better than that. I will do better than that. I’ve beat myself up for so long, it’s clouded out my ability to learn from my mistakes. That isn’t fair to me or anyone else around me. I have another chance at life to start over. I want to do the best that I can. I want to make the future a happy one for myself and everyone that is going to be in it. I will.

Time to quit worrying about the things I can’t fix before I break the things I am very lucky to have. God help me. I want to get the future right. I will get the future right. I promise. It’s time to take the weight of the hurt that I’ve caused off of my shoulders. I’m a good man. I need to act like it.

Thankful

1. I’m thankful for the ability to smile and laugh, even though it seems there isn’t much to do so over.

2. I’m thankful for the sunrise.

3. I’m thankful for the few honest people who are left in the world.

4. I’m thankful for the few people who consider my feelings. Most people don’t.

5. I’m thankful for the possibility of second, third, and fourth chances.

Oh Well.

I’ve got a big heart. It hurts on a regular basis. I wear it on my sleeve. People can beat the shit out of it as much as they choose. My heart is the source of all of my problems. It’s big enough that it gets in the way of rational thought processes. I’d give someone the shirt right off of my back if they needed it. Plus, with my shirt off, it gives people a better target on my back, so when they stab it, they know they’ve hit the right spot. Not a big deal, really. I usually deserve it when that happens.

There are various activities that I’ve been known to partake in whenever my heart hurts. Sitting here now, I can re-live moments that people have literally hurt my heart so bad that I thought I was going to ache myself to death. Once again, I probably deserve it. I know I’ve done many, many good things for many people that didn’t deserve it. I’ve shined. Surprisingly enough, those moments aren’t the ones I remember the most, or influence me the most. The shitty things I’ve done over the years are the ones that I remember the most. I’m sure the people that I’ve done a million decent and good things for only remember the bad things I’ve done to them as well. It is funny how that works.

I am the walking definition of existential. I’m full of guilt, shame, and anxiety. I’ve always been a nervous wreck. I’ve never understood why people that I’ve been good to rub my nose in shit. I guess it comes down to me letting them do it. I’d love to hear their reasons of justification.

My heart hurts on a regular basis due to me guilting and shaming myself to death. I beat my own heart up over and over again over the things that I’ve done to people that didn’t deserve it. I can sit and babble to myself and to others about the things I’ve done. I can sit and make up a thousand excuses that sound great, justifying my actions. I can come up with so many reasons that justify and excuse why I did that or this to him or her whenever I did it. The sad truth of it is simple. Those excuses and justifications are hollow. They are simply reasons that I can come up with to make myself feel better about the things I’ve done. I can’t think of an excuse for any of the bad things I’ve done to people. Not one solid excuse. I don’t know what to make of that. I truly don’t.  I wonder if the people that have done me dirty ever feel guilty. I wonder if they worry like I do. I wonder if they realize that the cruel and disloyal things that they did to me have affected me in ways that make me expect the worse from everyone, or that it took away my self-worth, my dignity, my self-esteem, and has skewed the way that I look at the world and the people that are sharing it with me. I doubt it. They probably don’t think of me at all. It’s better for them that way. Unfortunately, every person from any walk of life that I’ve done wrong, I beat myself up over all of the time. I wish I could just not care. I wish my heart was smaller.

I’ve done some pretty amazing things for people. I’ve done random acts of kindness for friends, lovers, and strangers without ever expecting or getting anything in return. I’ve fed people that probably didn’t deserve it. I’ve opened doors for people that more than likely would rather spit on me than smile at me. I’ve done things that if they had been done for me, I would have never been able to show how grateful I was. The sad part is, those things are never remembered. The only things that are remembered are the bad things that I’ve done. I never get any slack, but I guess I don’t deserve it. I tell myself that I need to toughen up, forget the past, and move forward. It’s easier said than done. I tell myself to look out for only me, but that’s easier said than done as well. I’m just going to keep being me. I guess I’ll just try to help people more. Someday I’ll get recognized, or probably not. Either way, I’m tired of feeling like shit all of the time over things I’ve tried to apologize for. If I can forgive, why can’t others? Oh well I guess. As long as I can smile or laugh at least once a day, I’ll be just fine.