Quote:
Originally Posted by Poppy Princess
I've begun to consider the possibility that depression is good for me. I notice things that happy people don't notice. I care more because I'm more sensitive to people's pain. I absorb their misery and feel like them. It makes me want to help people. It makes appreciate people in a different way. I love them for their happiness and sadness. Ignorance is bliss, bliss is happiness, happiness is ignorance. Is happiness ignorance? Ignorance of the pain and suffering that surrounds us? The desperate need to be happy. We must ignore the evil, accept it, deal with it, anything but let it get to us. Happiness is bliss. I don't want ignorance. If ignorance is bliss then I don't want bliss. Maybe depression isn't my disease. Maybe it's my cure.
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I'm glad I've had the experience of seeing the world through my depressed lens for many of the reasons you state. I understand empathy and compassion in ways that many people seem unable to comprehend. I find beauty in sadness. But, and it's a big, big but.....I don't want to have to live in this space any longer. "Nice place to visit, wouldn't want to live there" describes my depression and the place I've been living in my mind for longer than I can remember. I truly don't think I have anything left to learn from depression. Now, it is simply a mountain standing between me and every goal I have in life.
I used to think it made me a better musician...maybe that was true for a period of time, I don't know if I ever would've become as good as I have without the countless hours spent practicing, obsessing, and trying to get better which were largely fueled by depression. My complete lack of self-worth inspired me to try harder, feeling like I sucked no matter how good people told me I was made me practice just that much longer, and the fact that I could hide from my depression and sadness by ignoring it and locking myself in a world of music meant that I was often practicing or listening to music every Friday and Saturday night when everybody else was out partying.
But, now there is nothing useful left in my depression. I don't want to practice anymore, I barely listen to music anymore. My anxiety about my playing has reached a point where I have stopped returning calls about gigs and stopped returning calls from new students because I feel like the next time I play in public or meet a new student may result in a panic attack or worse. It's been seven years since the last time I really made any obvious musical progress because seven years ago I was practicing in the middle of the night and suddenly something in my brain snapped...like a light switch being turned off. I just said, "**** it, gave up, and went to bed." I've had short spurts of creativity or determination since then, but most just seven years of torture that I've created for myself.
I could go on and on about this, but I've screwed myself over big time. And now, the biggest reason all this hurts so much is that ever since I was 12 years old, the only identity I've had is that of somebody who plays music. Didn't matter if I had no friends, or wasn't dating, or had no idea how to socialize with people, or anything else. If musical life was good, I was good...if musical life was bad, I was bad. So now, musical life has been bad for seven years and I've felt like a worthless human being for seven years because I know of no other way to determine my worth.
So, for me, depression was once a friend, now it is my worst enemy. Not just an enemy, but a cage I am trapped in and a mountain that seems impossible to climb.