Monday, March 25, 2013

So...

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.” 
―The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

(Listen to this song while reading)

I have a new job. I don't want to go into details at this point, but I do want to tell you that it's going incredibly well. So well I can't believe I'm this lucky. I'm doing something I love, for a cause I believe in and working with people who are so amazing it took me some time to accept that they were really as great as they appeared to be.

In fact, I was quite suspicious of the whole thing for the first six months. I was being treated so well that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's like being in a really loving relationship after being in an abusive relationship. You keep waiting for the abuse to start. You keep waiting for the harsh words or the raised hand. And when they don't come, you wait some more just to be safe. But then, you realize that it's going to be okay, that this time it's going to be different. Because it is.

This past year has been the best one of my life. And yet, I'm going through a bout of depression right now. I'm wanting to peg it on the fact that it's been a dark winter and I haven't had enough sun. But there's also a strange sadness in having such a great life now and realizing that all those years previously were so damn shitty and isn't life just absurd beyond words.

I also feel shame about being depressed right now. My life is so good. So so good. And I feel ashamed because my brain is telling me all kinds of crazy stuff and making a good attempt at trying to kill me. I'm managing but damn if I don't feel bad about feeling bad.

No matter how many times I go through a depression and how rationally I know that depression will be my lifelong companion in some form or another, there's this faint hope, this tiny voice in the back of my head that says, "Nope, this is the last time you'll be depressed."

And I really want it to be true. Even if it can't be true, I really want it to be. And so I feel ashamed. Ashamed for being depressed. Ashamed for wanting to not be depressed. Ashamed for hoping to never be depressed again. Ashamed for being depressed even though I'm so happy with my life.

Depression is maddening. Maddening. Maddening. Maddening.

tall penguin