So you know how you’ve got all these awesome memories of when everything was fucked? And they just play on a loop on repeat inside your head, and even though you’d love to “let them go” as so many unhelpful assholes advise, you just can’t seem to stop the cycles?

Thing is, those little side reels of your worst moments are actually the biggest help when managing your depression. Because when we remember painful moments, they’re the perfect guide for figuring out what our hurt triggers are, how we can avoid them going forward, and sometimes how we can set them right in the past. Our memories can serve as a map of our pain, and help us retrace our steps to figure out the causes of our current misery.

It goes back to this whole “forgive and forget” thing. Why? Remembering the things that hurt us is fucking useful. Particularly if those things are patterns of behavior in other people. Maybe you can’t or don’t want to put in the effort to making people change their need to take shit out on you, which makes sense, and remembering who those people are and what bullshit they do makes even more sense.

Now, sometimes it seems pointless because the trauma is so far past, that really, what the fuck can you do about it now? Well that’s just the thing, if you were actually done with it, and if the pain was gone, would you be carrying it around in your records? Psst. The answer is no. When you have memories of painful experiences, and you still feel something when you think of it, shame, humiliation, fear, anger, you’ve got an open wound. And if you want to get that to a sense of neutrality, you’ll need to find a way to reframe and move forward.

Sometimes that reframe is just a matter of laughing at yourself. Because fuck it. It’s funny to watch your past self mess up. Not in a mean way. Just in a “Yeah, that was pretty awful, glad that’s over” way. And sometimes you’ve got something meta going on with that memory, and really you’re hung up on that bully trash talking you because you felt like you had no voice, not just the act itself. Then the reframe may need some action, like a present day assertion of your voice and being heard and something something something. Point is. You’ve got those memories for a reason. Figure out why, and you can address some of that calcified pain you’ve got saved up in those memory banks.

So yeah the bad memories are… bad. And they’re not necessarily going to get any better. Still, holding the frames up to the light and taking a good look at them can give you some clues on how to manage and possible mediate the misery. That’s something. It’s quite a lot actually.

So you know how even though you have absolutely no fucking clue what you’re doing, you still want to tell everyone else what to do? Sometimes you even feel the need to write posts and posts of ideas on “how to” blah blah blah when all the while you know that you could poke holes in your own arguments in a heartbeat?

Thump Thump. Thump Thump. Do you hear that? It’s the sound of love. It’s also the sound of hypocrisy. Because ultimately, while we may say shit just as much to satisfy our own egos as to help another person out, ultimately, the choice to say anything at all is a sign that we care.

Because really, even if we had all the answers, we could just say fuck it and walk away. We could take our answers and run, feeling all toasty and warm in our own enlightenment. Instead we look around and see tons of bullshit. We know how it got there and we know what it takes to fix it. And yet, we also know that we’re fucked as hell, and the second we open our mouths to say “Hey guys… How about-” Someone will smack us in the face with a “Who are you God? Fuck you. Here’s a list of your flaws.” And since we can’t handle that, because it hurts, we sit with our mouths shut and keep the answers in the shadows.

And so we need to be perfect to say anything at all. We need to hide all our damage, so that no one can judge us back. Then they just have to accept what we say as gospel, with grace and gratitude. Only problem is that keeping wounds from the sunlight leads to those infections that produce the depression, and so our desire to help others, hurts us. We desperately need to avoid looking the hypocrite in order to get our message out, and yet, slowly we become more hypocritical as our inner darkness grows.

What to do? What to do? Oh! Got it! Be a fucking hypocrite and own it like a sexy bitch. Strut that hypocrisy all over the place, and when people call you on it, call them back. “Fuck bitch doesn’t want help. Don’t fucking be here. Leave.” Because it’s a big world, and if people don’t want to stand near you while you proselytize they can go someplace else. And even if they do stay, they don’t need to take advice from a dirty hypocrite, they can go figure it out on their own. When people bitch you back, it’s typically that they’re either jellus because they thought the same thing and didn’t say it, or they’re crying out for help and only know how to do it with fingernails.

So say what you want even if you are healing your own hurts on the side. Everyone’s imperfect. If there are angels among us, they’re very good at hide and seek. In the mean time, we make do with the role models we’ve got, flaws and all. Share your love even if it is hypocrisy. Better than letting the hydra hate grow additional heads.

So you know how it shouldn’t be possible to be too awesome? Or too beautiful? Or too smart? Or too genius at foozball? And yet somehow, no matter what you’re good at, your depression finds a way to make you feel like shit about it?

Either you think you’re not as amazing at ballerinaing as some other person, and that they’ll always be some perfect person out there who’s more amazing at it than you. Or, even better, you think you’re the best at chessing, but that means that everybody will hate you because you’re too good at it. Wait wait, and don’t forget, that no matter what you’re good at, you’ll always be worse than how you were in the past. Note: unfortunately with physical skills in particular, at a certain point, this is true in terms of competitive ability. Hitting the “peak” so to speak.

And all of that is true! No matter how awesome you are, there’s always a downside! Or many! Isn’t that exciting! Yes actually, because it means that surprise surprise, everything is a trade off and sometimes there’s positives and sometimes there’s negatives. And why is that a good thing? Because remember kids, just because there are tons of bad things, that doesn’t mean that the good things have no weight. Maybe not always equal, but often, what you give and what you get level out. So when you’re getting, take it, and fuck guilt. Because soon enough it’ll ebb.

Peaking, is the most hard to get past. Because then you know for a fact that you’re past your prime. And you feel like you’ve lost your awesomeness and you’re just reliving the “glory days.” Thing is… You don’t need to relive them. They’re there, chilling, in the past and you get to own those accomplishments even in the present. Typically if you’re hyper focused on your past achievements it’s not just because they were awesome, it’s also because the present isn’t doing so great. Focusing on nostalgia, the past, those things, is fun on occasion, but when you’re doing it to the extreme it’s often a sign that either your brain is trying to make you dig up a trauma that you need to address, or you’re not taking care of finding things to make your current self happier.

And when you’re flying high, sometimes you can see what’s coming up on the horizon. You know that while right now you’re doing stellar, soon enough, you’ll come down, and possibly it’ll be a crash landing. That’s why preparing when you notice that shit is useful. Investing in some long-term happiness options, whether that’s in literal money, relationships, or sustainable hobbies, is a way to help yourself rest assured that you’ll have some things to feel good about. Not to mention you can always share your experiences with lonelies looking to learn from your greatness. If it’s too late and you’ve already hit ground… Oh wait, there’s no such thing as hitting bottom! You can always be more miserable! Do some damage control and figure out how to be a little better off than where you’re at.

So being the best sucks. Having something to strive for is exciting, and fills us with energy. When you hit mastery, or are just doing awesome in general, there’s a lot of navigation that comes with that. And that’s a challenge in and of itself. Luckily, you’re alive, and bored, so figuring that shit out is just more shit for you to do as a distraction.

So you know how perfect is just so… perfect? And you’re just so… Not?

That sucks. Who cares? Perfect is just a bullshit concept we create to fuck ourselves over and remind us of all the ways we suck. You can never be perfect. The second you fill one gap, you’ll notice another one. The second you finally clean one spot, you’ll realize that everything else is dirty by comparison.

And don’t you love it when people use perfect as an excuse for being a dick to you? “Sorry, but I mean, no one is perfect.” Is code for, “Your concerns are totally valid, but I’m a lazy shit, so instead of addressing them, I’m just going to talk about how I can’t be awesome ALL the time.”

Oh wait that sucks? That’s cool. You know what sucks more? Constantly finding your every little flaw and cutting yourself into pieces attempting to remove it. It’s irritating when people invalidate your concerns. Still, even if someone does recognize what you’re saying, and that maybe they should not be totally fucking you over, the fact may remain, that they are imperfect, and they are lazy, and they just don’t give a shit. Worst part is, they’re probably happier for it.

You don’t want to be the asshole going around being all “I’m imperfect. I ran over your cat. That’s just life.” And that’s awesome. Don’t be. Be the not so much of asshole going “I’m imperfect. I ran over your cat. That’s just life. And I’m really fucking sorry.” Because sometimes we use “perfect” as a way to give up on ourselves and on managing our depression. Just like the assholes that suck, when we realize that we’ll never be completely clean, we stop even aiming to improve the things we can improve. Knowing that we’ll always fall short of “perfect.”

So yeah don’t be an asshole. Or do be an asshole. Either way, know that you’re not perfect, that sucks, and it doesn’t mean you’re done. You’re only done when you’re dead. In the meantime, you keep growing, imperfectly all the while.

So you know how people are always all “would you rather be smart and unhappy or stupid and happy?” And of course you’re a genius so you’re like “I’d rather be smart and happy,” thereby answering a question that is incredibly stupid, because really, who the fuck wouldn’t take all the awesome when answering a bullshit hypothetical.

Thing is, that sometimes you really do have to choose between analytical intelligence and the alleviation of your misery. Depression hijacks critical thinking powers and uses them as a cudgel to slice and dice your psyche as well as those of other people. If you want to manage your depression and heal some of those misery wounds, there may come a time when you are truly faced with the question of whether to tune out some of your special judgmental powers. At least for a period of time. Is it worth it? And if you do relinquish some of your critical thinking, can you ever get it back or will you become one of those stupid happy people who block everything out and don’t notice the suffering of paunchy pandas or kitten genocides? Can you really give up your misery if it means sacrificing a part of your mind, and in particular, the part that makes you so critically clever?

While the easy answer is “fuck yes if it means that you aren’t in excruciating pain every fucking moment,” the less easy answer is that it really depends on what you want. There have always been people who saw pain as a necessary burden in order to see the world a certain way, and to preserve a particular viewpoint. Sometimes these people become famous authors or artists or political people or sciencey thinkers. And sometimes they just become anonymous depressed people who find value in their misery.

You may want to be like that. Or you may want to do whatever it takes to alleviate the pain. You might be willing to literally castrate your intellectual prowess for the sake of a little bit of happiness. You might think that it’s not a sacrifice at all, since you didn’t really want those judgment abilities in the first place. And of course, you might choose to experiment and just see what happens when you mellow out a bit of your mind. You may choose to intentionally ignore or accept the negative things in order to highlight the positive. And later you may choose to make yourself miserable again because you missed the pain, and the magic analytical capabilities that it encouraged. 

Regardless, there will always be parts of your mind that remain sharp whether your whetting them with pain or contentment. Critical thinking may be honed by misery, but there are other parts of you that are honed by not misery. Social skills. An ability to see the whole picture. And all the mathy, sciencey, history, arty, sexy, languagey knowledge that you’ve acquired is still up there in your head whether your miserable or not. Actually, since depression can slow you down, a bit of healing may make it easier for you to learn new concepts or for you to better recall what you already know.

So there is always a tradeoff when you become less miserable. And sometimes that means exchanging some critical thinking powers for some learning powers or something else entirely. Whether the exchange is what you want or whether it is worth the effort depends on what you value and who you hope to be. Good thing is that you can always reopen the wounds and trade back for your misery if you don’t like the outcome.

So you know how everyone else has fucked you over? Like your friends, family, society at large, and really just everyone? And it’s really not your fault, and you wish Robin Williams would come and tell you so over and over and over and over again?

Bad news. It is your fault. You deserve what you get. And if you are getting shitty things, then that’s what you deserve. Because you’re alive and you are taking away from the world just by being so.

Good news. It is not only your fault. And when you get not so shitty things, or even some cool things, you deserve them too. Because you’re alive and you are giving back to the world just by being so.

People have probably done some really fucked up stuff to you. And maybe you’ve done some really fucked up stuff to other people. Or maybe you haven’t. And maybe other people haven’t. After you’ve tallied up the score… Fuck it all. You’re fucking depressed. You’ve got negative points. How that happened is important to remember since you don’t want it to keep happening. Still, just as important is that you figure out ways to manage your misery, regardless of the fault.

Fault or blame only gets you so far. Because hating on people who harm you really just fucks you up. Not to mention most people don’t give a shit about you and won’t really care if they fucked you up. The question isn’t who has fucked you up. It’s who fucked you up that had a responsibility to not do that. And how can you convey to them that they didn’t fulfill their responsibility. And how can you make sure that you don’t fuck up your responsibilities and just start a new cycle of people fucking each other up.

So you’re at fault for your fucking mess of a life. Or more accurately, you have the primary responsibility to figure it out and clean it up. That doesn’t mean that everyone else is off the hook. There are other people who have responsibilities and promises to keep. Find those with the strongest ties and hold them accountable. And if you can’t, find people to make new ties and new responsibilities that won’t suck so much. Above all else, when you’ve got people who do recognize their impact on others: value that. It’s fucking rare, and damn precious.

So you know how human beings are just kind of disgusting?

Yes. Because they are all of these beings made out of human flesh. They come in different shapes and sizes. And they are all just… gross.

They talk in gross ways. They eat, sleep, interact in gross ways. They do mean things, or nice things, or things, in general. They exist for a while. Sometimes all this disgusting grossness may make you want to get rid of human beings. Some of them. All of them. A select few of them. A particular type of them.

And then again, you too are a human being. And you too are disgustingly gross because of that. In fact, since you hate everyone else so much, you may be a “sociopath,” therefore at times doing, or wanting to do, particularly disgusting things because humanity is so awful, that there’s no reason not to.

Yet because everyone is so gross, and disgusting, and awful, there’s hope! Because that’s just true! And the disgustingness of humanity is something that you can count on and feel comforted by. Because it exists. Whether you want it to or not. And the rest of existence, though boring, exists as well.

So yeah. Be all the disgusted you can be. Then realize, that it’s okay, since it’s true that the world is awful.

(My ghost writer assisted with this one!)

If a doctor says it… Then a doctor said it.

So you know how a person writes this blog? And she’s being a bit of a hypocrite because she’s telling everyone to cuddle with their depression and simultaneously shrink it to a manageable size?

Well whether you want to do it or not, I wanted to and I have. I knew this before a doctor said it, but it’s still so nice and toasty when society affirms things that you’ve known all along anyway. Partly because you get to feel legitimate. Mainly because you feel smart for knowing things first.

I’m sharing this in part because a little bit of bragging never hurt anybody. Except all those people it did hurt. And because this blog is as much meant to be my selfish manifesto of partial truths as it is meant to be… well anything else.

I’m not “cured.” There’s no guarantee “I’ll never be depressed again.” Still, right now, at this point in time, I have found ways of managing my depression to the point that I can pursue my goals and live my life without being dragged down into the depths of my personal misery pit.

And I want to take a moment to commemorate that, in this place, where I set down the arguments that have facilitated my “recovery.” If I fall back down, and everything gets fucked, that won’t change the fact that this happened. Nothing will change the fact that this happened.

Cheers to me. Cheers to you. Hoping that you get whatever you’re aiming for. Sooner or later. And for however long it lasts.

So you know how you’re not really depressed, you’re just pretending? Really you could snap out of your depression at any time, you just want to keep doing it because it’s…

Wait why the fuck would you do that? What on earth is worth pretending to be depressed for? Avoiding responsibilities? You can do that just as well when not depressed and be a lot happier about it. Self-control? You can do that by just leveraging the pain without any of the lethargy and anhedonia. Social isolation? That’s really easy to manage, just be a complete asshole to everybody and they’ll leave you alone sooner or later. Or you could be intentionally maintaining a depressive state of mind in order to write a blog… but that would be crazy. Ha ha. Crazy.

Yeah no really, pretending to be depressed is just being depressed. It’s comforting to think that you’re in control of your depression and could just end it at any time by “stopping pretending,” but in all likelihood if you really tried it out, it’d be more challenging than just ripping off the sad face.

Never fear. You are in control of your depression. And you could end it at any time. Or at least manage its effects. It’s just likely to be more of a process than a quick fix solution. You may need to experiment to find that special cocktail of techniques to soothe your misery wounds.

Pretending to be in pain is being in pain. Pretending to be depressed is being depressed. And just in case this hasn’t been said before: depression is real. It’s not just being sad for a while. Or intentionally self-sabotaging, though that can be part of it. It’s not a mythical mind frame that you created just because you felt like it. It’s an altered state of thinking, feeling, and being. It’s a “condition” or “status.” And it can fucking suck. It can also be fucking awesome. Just depends on what you’re looking to learn in life and what kinds of perspectives will help you see the world in a fascinating way.

So you are pretending to be depressed, and you are actually depressed. The pretending is the being. Because in case you haven’t noticed, non-depressed people don’t really invest that much time in perpetuating their unhappiness. That’s a fun little game for us miserables to play at. If you want to keep playing, do. And if you want to make believe something else, do.