The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow, But Until Then, I’ll Stick with The Rain

Sometimes, to be cheerful or present myself as such is exhausting. It’s not that I’m trying to be fake or enjoy being the captain of the river Denial, but sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I’m depressed and feel awful about it.

It’s a delicate balance for those of us who deal with depression, especially during the Holiday Season.

I think it’s twofold: One, I have a lot to be grateful for — my loving family, my home, my health, and my work. Two, it’s the Holiday season, the brilliant lights, the warm wishes, the intimate moments shared, the presents — what do I have to be sad about?

We, depressed lots, are conditioned to present ourselves amiably because we don’t want to squash everyone else’s fun or merriment.

And whenever our real mood oozes out, our knee-jerk reaction is self-loathing, self-punishment via guilt and shame.

Plus, there’s that added worry that our sadness is catching — like the flu — and we don’t wish to spread it to anyone else. Thus, we disappear.

Many people whose depression is as natural to them as any other emotion knows what I’m talking about.

I think part of the problem is the mentality of fake-it- ‘til-you-make-it. It’s the idea that if we fake cheer, it’ll magically, eventually glom onto us like osmosis or mold growing over tree rot.

It’s a precarious situation for us who are familiar with the dark parts of our minds — those of us who have spent so much time and energy navigating its swamps, leveraging its dangers, and poking holes in storm clouds so we can feel minuscule sunspots occasionally.

And it’s lonely!

We understand that many don’t experience such things, let alone know of this kind of existence beyond pharmaceutical ads, trite dramas, and rumors.

My reason for writing this piece today is not indulging in the darkness I’ve been experiencing lately but in search of enlightenment for others like me or to shed light for anyone else interested in understanding it, understanding us.

It’s been years since I feared my depression. Although I would rather experience any other form of emotion, deep, burrowing sadness does not scare me anymore.

It could be that I’m used to it, or I’ve learned to see it differently.

For me, it comes like an uninvited guest — think Cousin Eddie from the movie Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Every aspect of my depression comes in his embodiment. From his skewed worldview — he has nine years of unemployment because he’s holding out for a management position.

To his terrible and intrusive lack of self-awareness — “The Shitter’s full!”

Even down to his swarthy white loafers — every bit of it feels disorienting from the norm, over-the-top, and soul-crushing.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that there’s only one way to combat my depression.

I can’t fight it, kill it, or medicate it out of existence. I can’t bargain with it or ignore it. All I can do is wait it out and then look for a silver lining.

Sometimes, I think that maybe my depression comes to force me to take a break, to rest and be still until I can strike back out into the world once again, a little bit stronger and a little more connected to myself than I was before.

In any case, I wish you all Seasons Greetings — whatever that looks like for you — and a great New Year of Hope!