What is Dumping Depression?
They say that breaking up is hard to do; maybe it was only Neil Sedaka…Regardless, there are few things more devastating than a dragged out dumping. Whether you are the break-up-er or the break-up-ee, effectively ending a relationship on good terms is a rarity. Take my first relationship, for example. Though I was a jealous closet case, I held tight to the individual who balanced me, as much as a 15 year old could be; in this case, it was my girlfriend, who was quickly losing sight of what she needed because our relationship was stifling us both. She had no choice but to end things; still, it didn’t make the break-up any easier. I was so depressed about the separation that the following Valentine’s Day, my mom bought me a Great American Cookie cake that I quickly devoured, alone, pining for what was lost.
It was hardly the most devastating dump, though. On the cusp of my 30th birthday, I watched the police break through my bedroom door and drag my boyfriend out of the apartment as he hurled harsh words following a bloody battle. It was the most uncertain I’d ever been; as a recently outed gay man, I wasn’t sure how to balance my needs without that special someone despite how threatened I felt in the relationship. I knew if I stayed in the apartment and remained there when my in-process-ex was released from jail, the break-up wouldn’t hold, and we’d stay together, most likely killing one or both of us. To avoid that fate, I spent the next day packing up my life and removing myself from the situation, but it didn’t save me from the loneliness of my new reality as I returned to the relational drawing board.
Here we go, again! I can’t go 2 paragraphs without playing two lies and a truth. Not only was my first break up the most devastating, it also predated my first relationship. It was just for fun, for the sake of exploring; there was no way we could actually be together. When it became official with my first girlfriend, I had to break off the intimate relationship rapidly developing with my male friend (from Sexual Energy). I remember dumping the news on him with little warning: we were at his parent’s house after school, tiptoeing around the topic. I could barely look him in the eye when he asked what was wrong. When I shared how my new reality would feature him less—how our youthful exploration must end—he chased me in circles around the dining room table, then through the house, and eventually, out the door. He tried to catch me before I got away, saying the words I needed to hear to stay. But it was over, and we never recovered our friendship in the aftermath. Now I know, I know that it’s true…
Breaking up is a b*tch, and it’s not getting any easier with age. No time seems like the right time—especially through hard times—except for the times we are so overwrought with emotion that we can’t help but make it the time to call it quits. At those low points, life feels so isolating it doesn’t matter who else is present; the void rips away any positive outlook and instead presents all the f*cked up experiences life has to offer. Speaking of which: “Life is fraught with obstacles and tests that sometimes knock us off our feet. When we do lose our balance and fall flat on our faces, it’s important to stand up again rather than to sink into doubt and depression and dust ourselves off” (80). Yehuda Berg and his devilish discernment via The 72 Names of God…It feels like the universe takes a giant dump that I can’t help but faceplant in every time I read his words. As I try standing, there is so much sh*t that I sink deeper till I’m defunct. If anything, this What’s in a Name? journey, guided by Berg’s provoking proverbs, has only brought me down more. Now, he’s at it again, attacking me when I’m already feeling vulnerable.
Berg isn’t taking into account my long-term relationship with depression. We’re so cozy!!! I’m becoming defensive, trying to fight/flight/freeze my way out of ending things. I’m not sure what attracted me to depression in the first place; it’s certainly not its sense of adventure nor its glowing smile. It has no winning attributes. How did we grow so entangled, then, that I can’t imagine life without it? Depression has been my crutch, justification, escape, everything. I’m in a codependent relationship with it, but I don’t trust Berg to get me out.
Knowing Google can fill in as a godsend, I found Kristy Southivilay’s words in “Codependent Behavior: What it is, how to spot it, and what to do about it” helpful: “Codependency has two different roles: The enabled and the enabler. The enabler encourages the enabled’s addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, or lack of responsibility, by passively allowing or actively encouraging the enabled to give up their own autonomy, and just do whatever the enabler wants them to do.” I knew depression was enabling me to be immature and contributing to my poor mental health! But maybe my role in this isn’t so clear. Is it possible I’m the enabler in this relationship? Has that been the case in all my relationships? Oh sh*t. That’s depressing…
Down the Hare Hole
When I began writing this post in December, the American COVID death count was around 300,000; now, at the end of February, we are mourning over 500,000 lives lost. Though vaccines are available, at least to those able to navigate the competitive appointment systems, the rise of regional variants keeps uncertainty at a hair-tingling level. Or hair losing…Yes, each time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of my grandfather as my hairline loses battles across my scalp, tossing up follicles in surrender. Consequently, depression creeps closer, taunting me with reminders of how much closer I am to death. With nowhere else to go, it chases from mirror to mirror, pushing me into the shadows for reprieve but only uncovering more distortion.
Returning to Southivilay’s article, I find ways to spot codependency in action: low self-esteem, poor boundaries, a need for control, fear of abandonment, problems with intimacy, trouble communicating, anxiety, and, of course, depression. Sh*t…Here we go again, face planting as I see how ALL these characteristics reflect me. “Codependency can actually lead to more destructive addictive behaviors like drugs, alcoholism, sex, and eating disorders as coping mechanisms for trauma. They are less likely to seek medical care for their addictions, and can fall prey to stressful situations which can develop into depression.” AHH, Kristy, stop! You’re saying that if I don’t dump depression and end this codependent relationship, it will just lead to more depression?! Groups are fun and all, but that’s too much.
Thankfully, Southivilay has some words of advice: “start by being honest with yourself and with your loved ones” and “stop thinking negatively.” I believe this article is an honest start in addressing my relationship with depression. By publishing it, I’m sharing this emotional journey with loved ones (at least through a screen). But, to stop thinking negatively…that’s tricky. There are times I feel like I’m trapped deep in a well where harsh criticism bounces off the walls. Where no one will ever come save me. Where I will be left alone forever. Wow! No wonder I’m so codependent on depression; it’s the only one visiting me when I’m stuck in solitude. But how to change this mindset? Reimagine the visual! Instead of being stuck down a well, where isolation is inevitable, I can approach emotional triggers like I am exploring a cave. Every venture inward, I discover light interspersed with dark; intricate channels grant access to infinite connections. No longer do I feel so alone in the echo chambers; instead, I realize how whole I am through this expedition. Plus, if I listen closely, I can navigate my way out if/when necessary.
Discern around
By returning to the mirror and accepting the careless cue ball looking back, I can stand a little taller. But, break-ups are never easy. My reflection takes a different shape before I can completely end things with depression, and this time, I see my grandfather firmly planted as the proud man he was. While he wasn’t overly successful, my grandpa had a stable home, family, job, creative outlet…he even had an airplane and the ability to fly around at his leisure. How can I not stand down to that shadow? I’m still looking up to the sky in hopes that he’ll affirm me from above. In response, I begin doubting my decision-making skills because my grandfather, in all his balding glory, secured a life and identity that inspired others. Or at least me.
Comparing my life to others has already been shown to create conflict, so I do my best to avoid it. But when it’s a family member I’ve idolized since babyhood, it feels different. There is a sense of duty unfulfilled, destiny astray. In response, the cave made for emotional exploration closes off crucial pathways, threatening to trap me inside the walls. Maybe you should be left in there to rot. Crap. Depression is at it again, convincing me that love, success, happiness, and stability are well beyond my reach and rightfully so: someone like me, who has shirked duty and destiny all his life, is undeserving of any light at the end of the tunnel.
Kristy, help!!! “Codependents often have trouble with boundaries. Learning what they are and communicating them really does help you and your partner know what is and isn’t okay. Talk with your partner about your needs.” OK, depression, here’s the deal; when you hang around and shut me down, it closes me off from those I connect with, those I love. I dump my community because I don’t feel supported in isolation. I grow resentful when I feel you’re my only choice for conversation. ENOUGH! No more blocking others out to avoid feeling like a misunderstood failure. Instead, I can expand these channels to bring joy and perspective to my cave dwelling. This layer of support gives me courage when I’m stuck in deep, dark spaces, so I don’t feel obligated to engage with depression for relief.
Third times The dharma
There’s a box full of depression’s things sitting outside the cave, ready to be picked up. I’m feeling confident in my decision thanks to Southivilay’s words of wisdom: “a healthy relationship involves both people having fully formed identities outside their time together. Take time to address your own mental health issues and get the help you need.” YAS, Kristy! I’m on my way! No longer do I feel trapped by my emotions. No longer am I relying on depression to see me through. I know WHO I am; it doesn’t matter how I look or what I have(n’t) achieved in relation to my grandfather. The cave is brightening up already. Before depression stalks off with its box, though, it insists on having the last word: you won’t ever know who you truly are because you’ll always be searching for the truth. Ugh, what an assh*le.
In attempting to uncover the root cause of my depression, I’ve ventured deeper into the dark spaces of my mind than ever before. I’ve tried to map out how I got to this codependent place. Still, the answers are obscured, locked away. Is it because I’m afraid of what I’ll find; am I protecting my mental health by stowing the truth well below the surface? Through the idolization of my grandfather, I failed to see him as an imperfect being, like me. When I finally looked at him in a different light, it flushed my emotions back down the well, isolated me from my loved ones, and dumped on my identity. Uh oh. Should I invite depression back? Maybe it will know what to do…NO! NO! NO!
Surprisingly, it’s Berg who helps me climb up and out of that depressing well with this nugget: “Getting up again generates greater spiritual Light in the world than if we had never fallen in the first place. The fact that we fell is not what’s important. True greatness lies in the act of rising again” (81). As I continue on this cavernous expedition of emotional maturity, I will discover things that make me question my truth. Things that make me feel triggered and isolated. Things that make me faceplant into the sh*t of reality. But! If I recognize the enabler/enabled dynamic between me and my negative thinking patterns, I can ignore calls from depression and rise up to the challenge of embracing WHO I am. Even when I feel down in the dumps.