Sunday, June 12, 2011

keep my head from goin' down.

"Something To Believe In" - Parachute
I heard this song for the first time today on radio, driving home from work. I fell in love as soon as it hit the first chorus. Right up my alley, bluesy-gospel, heavy piano power chords... 
Not only is this song musically beautiful, it also has a great message. It kind of puts into a few minutes how I've felt for the past few years.
For two and a half years, I had to provide all hope, motivation, and inspiration for someone who claimed he had none of his own. He claimed depression took away everything he had, which left him sucking me dry.
After a while, depression was his crutch. He no longer even attempted to find motivation or dreams of his own...he simply expected to find these things from external sources, be it his medication, other people, or me.

He knew that he couldn't live that way. There is only so much you can take from others... attempting to fill one self up with purely external energy is not enough to sustain a person. He gave up when I left. Instead of accepting that he had to find his own reasons, he continued to expect his reasons to come from other people. He had spent so long believing that only things outside of himself would make him happy, he believed it.

I've suffered from depression most of my life. I was not diagnosed until I displayed classic major depressive symptoms after he died, but I had a form of depression, that manifests in high anxiety, since elementary school, possibly even before. 
The difference between he and I, however, is I was never taught that my problems were anything special. Since I was not diagnosed, we never knew it was a "real" issue, but my parents dealt with my anxiety in an understanding but passive way. My symptoms were seen as things I have some level of control over. To an extent, I couldn't control them. I would get anxious or have a panic attack whether I wanted to or not. What I could control, however, was my reaction to it, and subsequent actions. I was taught that I could overcome any obstacle, all it took was self-control and motivation from inside myself.
I was taught it was NEVER okay to use anxiety, depression, or my panic attacks as an excuse for a failure.
I thank my parents every single day for not coddling me, and for teaching me to be responsible for my own actions, and through those actions, my own happiness. 

He believed that the pills he was on were the answer to everything. They would make him happy.
He claimed that no medication ever worked on him. I refuse to believe that. I think that he didn't understand how they worked. He didn't need higher dosages, he didn't have an incurable disease. He was sick, yes, very sick. His cure, however, was not chemicals alone. The chemicals would give him the ability to choose for himself his reaction to life, and the obstacles we all face. 
He never took any normal life situation very well. Everything was amplified, over-dramatic, and traumatic. He felt his situation was a curse. It wasn't fair, and he was given an unfair shake at life.
He didn't see how good he had it.

I believe that my medication allows me to have the ability to choose to be happy. I have to do that myself. I choose to love my life, and all that I'm given.

Depression is real. Mental illnesses are real. They are not a choice. They are a problem. They need answers, solutions, cures. However, I believe a lot of a person's experience dealing with an illness of this nature is not about drugs, anatomy, or unstoppable forces. The experience is how hard that person is willing to work, to fight, to push through. 
You wake up every morning looking for your answer; waiting for your sign...
Well Jeremiah's on his way to tell the people, but you watch him pass you by.
You walk the streets at night, still looking for your reason, but you don't wanna try.
You swear the world has got you backed into a corner, but no one holds your hand to walk into a fight.
You swear the light is gonna find you, but it can't find you when you're waiting all the time.

...sometimes its hard to keep on living, but you're the one who's got to know just when it's right.
No one gets to where they want to be by wishing. 
Don't expect others to give you your happiness. You make your own happiness. If you are content to happy with yourself, and can be satisfied on your own, only then can you truly accept another person to share in that happiness, and give back to them as much as you take from them. If you hold no respect and love for yourself, you cannot give love back to anyone in the way they deserve. You will take, and take, and take, and never give back. You will not make them happy, as much as you want to....and you will not be happy, either. 

This I promise you.

Don't wait for life to come to you. Run out and meet it, or you'll miss it.

I stumbled upon a girl who posted a picture of herself, not made up, just in her every day clothing, hair, makeup, whatever. I feel like a lot of my pictures of myself are fakey. They are me, but most of the time I pick and choose which pictures I post.
Here is me today, after work, with runny makeup and frizzy hair. This is STILL better than I look about 95% of the time. One day, I will be proud of who I am all of the time, but for now, here is my less-than-perfect self. I am trying very hard to be less self-conscious and self-obsessed, and try to just be happy with what I was given and who I am. 
After all, I think that other girls are much prettier with less makeup and work, in their more natural states...the same is probably true of me, even if I can't see it.

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