Behind the Laughter

For the last few days, as you have noticed, I have not been blogging.  I was in a funk, as I like to call it, and writing is the last thing I want to do.  Actually, thinking is the last thing I want to do, but you do have to think to be able to write.  It is on these days that I battle depression and typically my mind won't stop thinking about my life's failures.  It can be caused by an array of things, but pretty sure this time around it had to do with taking a hit to my self-esteem...actually several back to back.  I was dealing with feeling completely worthless and un-wanted to a degree.  I didn't sleep, I didn't eat much, I would get irritated easily, and obviously I didn't write.  I had completely shut down.  But all it took to bounce back was a good workout with my barn crew and several e-mail exchanges/text with a good friend and someone who believes in me.

Depression is a pretty devastating thing…it can put you straight on your ass at any given moment.  For me, personally, I describe it as falling into an abyss, where you are surrounded by darkness and can not or are unable to find a way to the surface.  It is a battle that I have fought since childhood and covered up with alcohol, smoking, and lots of laughter...if not laughter at least a few fake smiles here and there.  Now days, and I am not ashamed to admit, that I do take meds to help me out on a daily basis...but they are not fool proof as proven by the last few days.      

As a child, my parents instilled in me a sort of unattainable perfectionism.  The underlying expectation was to be the best at everything all the time, from education, to music, to even the smallest of household chores.  My outlet was Saturday morning cartoons, Scooby-Doo and the Smurfs, where a fantasy land of mistakes and imperfections did exist.  My other means of escape was sports.  My parents did not understand the ins and outs of most sports so the expectations were minimal at best.  It was the only time I was allowed to make mistakes yet still be applauded for the effort.  That sense of perfectionism still drives me today, for better and worse, and can be seen in various ways in my job at work as well as in my new passions of powerlifting and strongman.  Although I do know that being perfect at something is a great stretch of the imagination, I still find myself in search of it.  And failure, although it is to be expected, is not an option.   

While depression is not easy for anyone to admit battling, it is better than to pretend it does not exist. 
To suffer in silence, which I can not claim I have not done before, can lead to the end of all endings.  And, yes, I have faced that too.  But there is and will not be an ending to this story any time soon...unless I get crushed by the 200lb atlas stone that I also battle.