Finding Hope in times of Darkness
I am not branding the following as a self help guide, or a “how to get over depression” article. I’m simply sharing my own personal experiences. Pointing out what helped me (in some cases) and emphasising the good things that can come out of this devastating, sometimes helpless, situation that is depression. It’s a relief sometimes to get an other person’s point of view and understand that no one out there is alone. Even though it may seem like the end of the world, earth slipping under your feet, nothing is permanent and situations can, do and will change. If you are feeling completely hopeless and helpless, contact a professional for help.
Last night I woke up at 1:30 in the morning. Eyes wide open, could not go back to sleep. I managed to fall asleep again at 5:30, and then get up again at 7:30, act normal, head to work and put on a facade. One of the many nights that I could not sleep. It does happen to a lot of people, I am not denying that, for many different reasons. I know my reason, and I always hoped it was a different one than what it actually is. The good news, I taught myself to be productive when I can’t sleep. Trying to keep the constant, chaotic thoughts away; doing my finances, reading, writing, working on my photographs, coding, the occasional Netflix. As weird as it may seem, there’s a positive of not being able to sleep at night; being so exhausted the next day sometimes relieves you from that awful weight on your chest, that just does not go away. You are so tired that you can’t even stress, you are in a state of numbness — dazed and confused.
Through out this article I will make a faint effort to point out the positive things that come out of the worst moments. An attempt to make people realise that even at the darkest moment, good things can happen. Experiences, finding yourself, travelling, filtering the good people from the bad people, being creative, knowing what is important and what is not.
How it all began? Well, around 2014 I had my real first experience with depression, or that’s what I thought at least. I moved to Switzerland in 2012 for work, I needed change. A beach bum, a creative, a free spirit, a lover of the sun and blue skies, it was a move that had brought out my depression and down to my knees. Working in a stressful, corporate environment, away from the beach, under the almost daily dark, grey skies of Zurich just made everything worse.
The panic attacks started slowly, the unbearable heavy weight on my chest, the constant stress, the feeling that something was always wrong. Then the negative thoughts started occupying my head, drowning in tiny droplets, and the suicidal thoughts settled in. I knew how and where, the when was unknown. Every morning, every night, during the day; the same thought. What kept me alive? The chaos that I would leave behind…my mother, my father, my sister. That was the only reason that I stuck around. I didn’t give a damn about anything else. No one cared about me, so everyone and everything else was redundant.
During this time, I focused on many things to keep my mind busy, to give my life a purpose.
First, I dived into photography, something I wanted to get into for a long time. From an amateur I managed to boost myself and build a respectful portfolio. People actually praising my work and even asking me to shoot things for them.
Then, I managed to restart my writing, a conspiracy novel. From five hundred words, written five years before, I managed to jump to fifty thousand words within a couple of months. Not an attempt to judge myself, but for the past two years I haven’t touched it again, still a work in progress. It will come, and I will get back to it. Everything at the right moment.
Thirdly, I travelled. Oh my, how much did I travel. London, Amsterdam, London again, Milan, Cannes, Nice, Frankfurt, Milan again, New York, Ibiza, Majorca, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Torino and the list goes on. Mostly alone, but not all the time. Even if you are alone, travel! It’s all about the experiences, the new places, the different cultures, the interesting people. Changing environments is a good mental boost. See new cities, new skylines, breath new air. Feel new things, create new experiences. Take some photos!
Finally, and more importantly, at my darkest hour I focused all my energy on a short story, titled “How the Devil Mocked Me”. A metaphysical/fictional story, a metaphor of how forsaken and hopeless my life felt.
Good things can come from bad moments. You just need to focus and divert all the negative energy and be productive. Produce something, create, read, travel, travel and travel. If you can’t travel, explore your city, your country, go places you’ve never been to, walk to that street you always avoided, check that weird store next to work, have a coffee in a place you’ve never had coffee before, chat with a stranger.
It passed, I medicated, I felt better. Do not condemn medication, they can give you the boost you need to stand back on your feet, it’s not all negatives, sometimes it is a necessary and hopefully temporary solution. I felt much better that I made my big move, leaving behind a six year long oppressive and stressful life, joining a web development school in Barcelona and rerouting my life into a new, fresh beginning. Living near the beach, in the sun, doing something I liked and enjoyed.
All well for a while, and then bang, it hit again. One bad experience, a second bad experience, stressful situations happening all together, at the same time and then one after the other. Serial, parallel, chaotic.
Everything went completely dark. The blue sky turned dark grey one more time; but this time the sky was mostly blue, my mind was altering all beautiful things. Everything was miserable. Devastation and despair returned. I lost around twenty pounds, and I say around because I refused to weigh my self. I could not eat, just didn’t care. I could see my trousers getting bigger and bigger. My thighs thinner and thinner. My watch was becoming a nuisance as it kept slipping down from my scrawny wrist. The suicidal thoughts were back. This time worse than before. The panic attacks were so harsh that I felt like a five year old boy reaching out for his mom. It was one of the lowest points of my life. Depression was back with a vengeance, and it felt that it would stay and consume me.
Then it hit me. As I mentioned a few lines back, I believed my first experience with depression was sometime in 2014. Well, it was not. Lost in my thoughts, as I looked for help from my family, and as I opened about it to friends, who were living in complete oblivion for what I was going through in the biggest part of my life, I connected the dots. Depression was part of my life since childhood. It was who I was. It was me. Depression was a part of me.
Thirteen years old at school, lost all meaning. Twenty years old in the army, collapsed, lost all hope, wrote a suicide letter on a night out and had a plan; went to bed. I gave it time, it always needs some time for it to get better. Next day I woke up and everything felt better. I survived one more day. Twenty three years old, while in university, locked my self in my room for weeks after weeks; watching movies, eating junk food, refusing to go out, to wash my teeth, to take care of myself, to talk to people. I wanted it to be the end.
You see, I thought back then that it was just me. That’s who I was, a loner, that likes to sit home, be alone and watch movies. That was not me and it is not me. It’s this dark beast that consumes some of us, causing us to lose all hope.
Then it came to me, there was a pattern, in all the anguish and despair, there was at least some kind of pattern. Patterns are good, it means you can hack them. I could fight it off and I could get through it. Depression was part of me, it was something to accept, live and work with.
Acceptance is a great relief. It’s the first step to take action and start taking steps to make things better. Not all is lost. You can better yourself, grow as a person, and use depression for your own personal development. Talk to people. I know that depression convinces you that no one gives a damn about you. The truth is that lots of people do not give a damn, but some do, and out of the people that don’t, some will at least offer a helping hand.
The years that I spend listening to people calling me grumpy, telling me that I am a pessimist, the “half glass empty guy”. The number of names I was called, I could list them in pages and pages. The years that went by, listening to the same comments over and over again and no one just asking, “Are you okay? Do you need something?”. Really, it does not matter, as long as you don’t speak out, you will not get help because the majority of people have no clue that you are suffering. They live in their own world unaware that you are depressed or even what depression feels like; and trust me, they will definitely not comprehend depression a full hundred percent.
Test out the water patiently. Filter the ones that you can reach to, that can listen to you, that can offer a warm, compassionate hug and that can commit being there for you. Being honest and facing it straight ahead can lead to miracles, not in the religious sense, in the spiritual, self healing sense.
Just remember, things will be fine in the end and in case that they are not fine, it will not be the end. Don’t lose hope. Just be patient, give it time, and reach for a helping hand, a friend, a parent, a brother, a colleague, a doctor. Not all is lost. There will be better days.
P.S. If you are feeling that all this is our of context due to the current, unreal situation of a pandemic affecting the whole planet, take a time to read my other article on how you can learn and grow through such a crippling crisis: