Sunday, July 23, 2017

Something I’ll Always Carry in My Depression Baggage

This past Thursday was a really shitty day for me. I started off the day having to run a whole bunch of errands, many of which were for my parents. While running the first errand, I found out that my Aunt Inez had passed away. While this is sad, it really did not come as a surprise. She is elderly and in poor health and was honestly just waiting for this day. I am glad that she is finally at peace.

While running the second errand, I found out that Chester Bennington had taken his own life. My previous blog entry was about how that impacted me. I will merely say here, in short, that it still impacts me three days later. I feel roughly the same level of sadness and loss as I did when Kurt Cobain took his own life. I still remember where I was when I found out, and I remember the kindness my physics teacher, Craig MacDougall showed when he realized this was the cause for my melancholy. Some people like to dismiss these sorts of things and invalidate the feelings that the fans of these artists have, but for some of these people, these artists are the only ones with whom they can relate. It is quite possible that their families, their friends, their spouses dismiss and invalidate their own depression, anxiety or demons. Stop doing this to your family and friends. They need to have something akin to the following to carry along with their baggage, whatever form that baggage may be.

A few months ago, I had an evening caretaker for my parents, whom I have been responsible for the care of for the past two years. I have a separate blog about what it is like to care for them. In short, they are a full-time, round-the-clock job. My mother used to frequently get up in the middle of the night and wander around, sometimes falling in the process, and I would have to get up and put her back to bed. She also likes to get up very early in the morning. As a result, I have not had a decent night’s rest in nearly two years and despite the fact that she is now confined to a hospital bed that she can’t get out of, I still have not yet re-learned how to sleep through the night. These facts are only partially relevant to the story I’m telling here though.


I told this caretaker that I would be laying down taking a nap while she was here. For some reason, she claims that she thought I said I was going to run some errands and then come back and sleep. When the time came for her to be off duty, she left and locked herself out, thinking all the while that I was not in the house and never once having checked. She called my brother from the car and told him that she was parked in front of the house, but she had locked herself out. How could she possibly help my parents from outside of the house? My brother called me and received no answer. He then called my right hand man, who also texted and called and received no answer. My right hand man in turn called my cousin, who also texted and called me and received no response. One of her texts made me crack up laughing. She said something to the effect of: “Are you dead? You better not be dead and didn’t tell me.” When I went to sleep, it was daytime, probably around 5 or 6 p.m. I generally do not do well at trying to go to sleep when it’s daytime because I’m sensitive to light. I was tired though; extremely tired. I woke up about 4 hours later or so and it was dark. I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been out, but when I looked at my phone, I saw that it had been blown up with several text messages and phone calls from my brother, his wife, my right hand man and my cousin. Everyone except my cousin, who has no means of transportation, had shown up, only to discover that I was passed out asleep in my bed. In retrospect, I think this situation is pretty funny and that the caretaker should learn to listen better. I also feel the genuine concern that my family and friends have for me. I am doubtful that my brother or his wife would miss me much if I went the way of Kurt Cobain or Chester Bennington, but I do know that I have a few cousins who would be grief stricken and downright pissed if I were dead and didn’t tell them. We all need to feel loved and appreciated. Those who suffer with depression and anxiety really need to feel loved and appreciated. They need to be reminded often that you love them and that you are glad they are around. You need to give them this extra piece of baggage to carry around with them. They are going to have moments of hopelessness and utter despair. Sometimes these feelings will be tied to what is going around them, which is often the case with me since I am stuck taking care of my parents most of the time. Sometimes these feelings are tied to the loss of someone they looked up to. Sometimes they just simply are not having a good day. When these days come, and they will come, hopefully they will have an anecdote like the one I just shared to carry around with them and remind them that they are loved.

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