Depression was my best friend all along

Somewhere in childhood, I developed a deep fear of life. Fear of illness, fear of the future, fear of rejection, fear of judgement, fear of life, fear of death. That was the only reality I knew, so I never questioned it, I never asked why. Instead I built coping mechanisms on top. I learned to push it down, act like everything is ok, keep it to myself.

In my 20s, I went to the doctor to find out why I felt so exhausted all the time. I suspected a health issue, but after a bunch of tests the doctor told me I was in perfect health. He told me that some people simply have an imbalance of chemicals in their brain, and it’s called depression and anxiety. It had never occurred to me that I could be depressed. Being alive felt terribly painful but I seemed to believe it was normal, and that because I could think positive thoughts I was perfectly fine. The doctor referred me to a psychologist. He also offered medication, I refused. There was some instinct that although I wanted the depression and anxiety gone, it was also some kind of signal that I didn’t want to ignore. It felt like I’d be taking a painkiller for a leg that’s cut open and bleeding everywhere.

Through most of my 20s and early 30s, I spent a lot of time in therapy and started to meditate. I built an identity around having depression and anxiety. It came to define me, my limitations and struggles. My whole life became coloured by it. It became a problem that I had to solve, a sort of parasite that I wanted dead. Looking back on it now it feels so cold and heartless to speak about it that way but that’s what I believed at the time.

The last several years have been unlearning all of this. Going backwards through those layers. I found that the so called depression and anxiety was nothing more than an attempt to manage that completely innocent fear. Of course I was exhausted. I was literally in a battle with myself. It was the very attempt to remove the parasite that was the parasite. The parasite was the belief that I had to turn away, push it down, smile. The depression, the anxiety, was a scared child that just wanted warmth, love and understanding.

That fear is nothing to be afraid of. It’s wise, and it’s far more useful when it’s allowed to move freely. Thinking that turning away from it was managing it was the most backwards belief of all. The unwillingness to face it was all consuming as I manipulated and managed every aspect of my life to avoid it. Just about every message we get in society encourages us to do this. Think positive thoughts, take this pill, smile, stay busy. Avoid silence.

Silence.

That’s where it showed up. When everything becomes still, it’s there. Terrifying, uncomfortable and overwhelming at first. Then it became familiar and gradually I discovered it’s ok to be with it. It always was there. In silence, I started to see the desperation to run from it. Always, constantly running. It’s exhausting to run. But familiar, safe.

I saw that I had been running from my best friend. The one who wanted to take care of me. Who just wanted to keep me safe. Who, despite being abandoned and ignored and hated and treated like a parasite, unwaveringly stayed. Who loved unconditionally all while I was out in the world desperately seeking unconditional love.

If the beloved is everywhere
the lover is a veil,
but when living itself becomes the Friend,
lovers disappear.

— Rumi