I think it's hard for most people to understand what it's like to really, genuinely hate life. It's not the same as just being negative, so "Think positive!" won't fix it. And it's not the same as just being sad, so "Cheer up!" won't fix it. And it's not the same as thinking life is something other than what it is, so "Count your blessings!" won't fix it either. I am well aware of my blessings, and I can "think positive" and try to "cheer up" all I want, but I still hate life right now. And if we're being really honest here, I kind of just want to die.
I hate life and I want to die. That thought runs through my head multiple times per day lately.
I think my depression might be back.
Tpiglette and I went to help out with our former a cappella group recently, to listen to a rehearsal of theirs and give feedback before their big winter show. While there, I realized that when I joined the group in the fall of 2000, many people in that room were in middle school. I am almost 10 years older than the youngest members of the current group. And when they started singing through "old songs" just for fun, ever single song they sang came and went in the time since I left the group; not a one of them knew any of the songs we sang when I was in the group - my songs are so old they can't even be considered when it's time to sing "old songs."
As if that weren't enough to depress me - not that I need specific provocation, since I'm depressed all the time these days - remember the guys I talked about in this post? Well, HTG is engaged now, as you might remember learning back here. And the super young boy? He still haunts me sometimes with his devilish good looks and devil-may-care attitude, but I am mostly able to just not think about him these days, because he really is way too young for me.
But that third guy? The tall grad student? Yeah, he and I had a few good moments where I feel like maybe if I'd been brave enough to ask him out we might have stood a chance, but I never was so we didn't. And then he started dating a girl from the group, closer to his age. And they've been dating about nine months. And I saw them at the rehearsal, and of course, they're engaged. I know, right? He's about 3 years younger than I am, she's maybe 5 years younger, and they're engaged and I'm single.
I was supposed to go on a school trip to Disneyland in January, a trip I went on last year as well. It's ridiculously fun, getting to hang out with the kids at the "happiest place on earth," plus there are fun workshops to attend as well. It was the one bright spot between now and June, the one truly fun event I was really looking forward to.
And then I found out I don't get to go.
And why don't I get to go? Because the four staff members who DO get to go all want to bring their spouses. Okay, first of all, I personally think it's unfair that spouses get priority over staff to go on field trips. In general, I'd have to say I know these kids way better than the spouses do, and that the kids would rather hang out with me than their music teacher's wife. And even if that weren't true, shouldn't staff get priority on paid field trip chaperone jobs? I mean, we're staff, that should be a job perk for all the hard work we do all year. But instead, someone's husband or wife who doesn't work for our school at all gets a free trip to Disneyland with a bunch of kids they don't know or love like I do.
I suppose if I wanted to I could take this to the administration and make the complaint, but I'd feel like a jerk, especially because the drama teacher is a great friend of mine. I'd feel like a real bitch going to my boss whining about my friend bringing her husband on the trip. Like, "Hey, friend! I love you, but I'm totally going to rat you out in the hopes that you won't be allowed to bring your husband on the trip, even though I bet you really want to spend that time with him. Please don't be mad! Let's hang out next week!" Yeah, that'd go over real well, I'm sure.
So instead, I'm back to counting down to June, when this horrible year finally ends, because the one bright spot in it has now been taken from me.
This same drama teacher I mentioned, she's getting married in two weeks. (Hence her "husband" by January when the Disney trip comes around.) So we had a bridal shower for her Friday after school, a bunch of the female staff from school. I was incredibly depressed already, with my general day-to-day depression lately combined with the horrible news of not going to Disneyland. Then, while we were sitting around after opening presents, our hostess asked if any of the married ladies had any advice to give. And that's when it hit me:
Every single person in that room was married except the soon-to-be-married guest of honor, me, and the infant daughter of a fellow guest.
Wow. That was helpful, huh? Yeah, and it's not like they were all old either. No, there were people my age and even younger, yet all married. Just me and a baby, the only two single girls in the room. One of us has significantly more time than the other to get a move on in the boyfriend department.
I feel bad for the people around me. I am a NASTY, HORRIBLE person when I'm mired in depression like this, and it's a wonder to me that anyone still talks to me. Especially people like Tpiglette, who've dealt with me being like this on and off for years, and who has to see me every single day and deal with my horrendous moodiness.
It's no fun being friends with someone who's depressed. You know how you always want to help the people you love? How it hurts you to see them hurting? How when you know they have problems you just want to fix them? When that person is depressed, everything you do to help fails miserably, if it doesn't go so far as to even make it worse. My friends offer suggestions for ways I can make things better, and all I do is talk about why they won't work. Or why it's too hard to do them. Or why I don't even care enough to try. And I don't say any of this nicely. I snap and I sneer and I snark. I roll my eyes and huff a lot. I'm generally ungrateful and hard-hearted.
If I'm not flat-out mean in response to people's attempts at kindness and encouragement, I cry, which is most of the reason I remain so mean. I don't want to start crying every time someone asks, "Are you okay?" Because they see that I'm not okay, and I know they see it, and I know I'm not okay, so as soon as they ask my throat closes up and I want to cry. Instead, I harden my exterior and make some sarcastic remark about how awful life is but how I'm used to it, and I hope they leave me alone with my meanness. If they don't, I get meaner and meaner until they do, or, if I'm feeling charitable, I fake a smile and try to change the subject.
All in all, those of us struggling with depression are horrible, horrible people.
I keep telling myself that I need to call a psychiatrist and talk about possibly going back on medication. Although at the bridal shower I heard that we women have problems talking to our friends or taking an antidepressant instead of bringing our problems to the Lord, so maybe I'm just not taking enough of my problems to the Lord.
Mostly I know that's not true. That's like telling someone with a broken leg not to have it set in a cast, that if he just prays real hard God will heal the leg on His own. While I don't doubt that God CAN do such a thing, we generally assume that it's up to us to do our part when we can. So isn't depression the same thing? Isn't depression a genuine health concern? Shouldn't I do something more than pray for God to heal me? Something like seek professional help?
Yes, I should, but I'm too scared to do so. I hate being broken. I hate being unable to function on my own. It makes me a failure - I fail at life. And I hate thinking about going to someone and saying, "I'm a big, fat, broken mess. Help fix me."
But if I don't say that, do I ever get unbroken?