Depressive Snares

If you have any semblance of humanity within, you have likely grown to realize that the real world is much harsher than you imagined in your barricaded childhood. However, it is not only the outside world that stops caring about you. Most people stop caring about themselves, as well, once they reach puberty. How does that make sense? Why would someone intentionally sabotage themselves? I’ve been intrigued by the logic behind depression and its self deprecating effects for nearly two years. Until recently, I considered myself a logical thinker, and depression was my next project to discover the reasoning for its existence. After all, everything has a logical explanation behind it, right? What I have found is that the answer is that it’s not logical. But before I elaborate, I should clarify that “illogical” does not mean “stupid.” When I describe self-sabotaging thoughts and actions as illogical or irrational, that is NOT an insult to the person thinking or performing them. It is not how they behave in a homeostatic state, hence why depression is classified as a mental illness. You don’t insult someone for being ill. These unfortunate souls have fallen into a trap that coerces them to let themselves bleed until they’re almost dead before even realizing they’ve been caught.

But if you’ve been caught in a trap, you can simply escape it, correct? Well, yes, but sometimes people don’t even want to free themselves. Their poor mental health convinces them that this is simply what they deserve. To an outsider, it’s completely illogical, and I must agree that it is, indeed, illogical. But that does not mean it’s a fabrication. Humans operate primarily on emotions, while logic is a secondary operation. While the world tries to default us to logic, our emotions almost always seem to take over. Those who we regard as the “smart people” are simply the best at suppressing their emotional operations. The world’s mindset that you need to discard what makes you human takes a toll on everyone’s mental health. Like tangible objects, emotions also act according to laws of physics. When emotions are repeatedly pushed down in favor of logic, they gain elastic energy, and they release it as kinetic energy in the form of depression. In this state, emotions regain their primordial position over logic, but oppressively so. Once the logic operations shut down, the brain convinces itself that it is not worthy of being a part of our logic-based society. It attempts to “punish” itself accordingly based on what the logical part of the brain would do. Of course, since emotions are hyperbolic and illogical, this goes to an extreme. Self punishment often takes the form of self harm, which will be discussed later.

The Emotion Revolution apparent in depression can be described as a parasite taking over another organism. Even when the host tries to reactivate the logical side of their brain, the parasite keeps it disabled, hence why depression is so difficult to escape from. The issue inherent in depression is not how one side operates, but rather the suppression of the other. A proper balance is necessary to maintain mental homeostasis. While it is incredibly difficult for the host to eliminate the parasitic imbalance on their own, they can more easily conquer it with assistance from other people. With positive reinforcement from others, the host can attempt to neutralize their overpowered emotional operations in order to allow the logical section of the brain to regain its place alongside its irrational counterpart. However, the parasite will often counter this tactic by convincing the host that it is simply a form of pity. The reason why so many depressed people never seem to listen to what others say to them, even if it’s true, is because parasites are too powerful. But if the emotional system of the brain obeys the laws of physics and uses elastic energy to regain control, shouldn’t the logical section be able to do the same. Unfortunately, the logical side is not nearly as pliable as the emotional side. While it’s strong, it’s also prone to breaking under immense pressure. This can even cause the host to lose the will to fight back, and the final surrender is what we know as suicide. You may consider it an illogical solution to a temporary problem, and you would be correct, but remember that the host no longer operates with logic at that point. I would know, because I have gotten close in the past.

I have no idea when or how my depression began, primarily because I didn't even acknowledge it as depression until approximately six months ago. Perhaps it was insecurity about my abilities, perhaps it was guilt from being a horrible person, who knows? I don’t, and I’ve been trying to find the answer for half a year. Either way, it was illogical, which is why I initially refused to recognize it as an issue.

During my denial, I made several friends who also suffered from depression, and I decided to analyze its causes and effects. Their cases were generally much more severe than my own, with correspondingly more severe symptoms, allowing me to easily observe them closely. I’ve already shared most of what I discovered, but I neglected to elaborate on the aspect that intrigued me the most: self harm. This is one of the more dangerous and easily detectable signs of depression, and the one I first practiced. From my experience and observations, self harm is not necessarily an attempt at suicide, but often an alternative to it.When the emotional section of the brain reaches a certain point, it overloads an leaves the host feeling numb. It becomes difficult to distinguish various emotions from one another, and self harm is the easiest method for them to “feel something.” Another reason behind doing it, the one I had, is that it is a form of self punishment. As I previously mentioned, victims of depression feel that they do not belong in this world, and believe they are the ones at fault. When they hurt themselves, they experience a masochistic sort of pleasure from believing they are doing the world a favor. This can be strangely addicting, and its inertia is incredibly difficult to overcome.

It takes immense strength to conquer the cycle on your own, but friends can facilitate the cycle. So the solution is simple, correct? Just find some friends who will lift you up when you fall down and it’ll be alright, right? Unfortunately, as I previously mentioned parasites can exploit a loophole in this. When depression seizes control of the emotional system, it convinces the host that they are unworthy of receiving help, that others only help them out of pity, or that others will judge them for their struggles. So in most cases, the host must rely on others to notice their issues. This can be incredibly difficult, as the host will attempt to hide all symptoms of their depression from everyone in order to not become a “burden” to them. Then they end up acting almost indistinguishably similar to everyone else. Some victims may have been paranoid about being a burden even before depression’s effects take place. This mindset stacks with the parasite’s mindset, which is why “people pleasers” are less likely to seek help, and more likely to have worse symptoms. Even worse, the only people who can identify hidden symptoms are typically other people who have the same parasite and are hesitant to approach people.

Luckily, there is still hope for parasite victims. When they genuinely try to help each other out, they can feel somewhat alleviated and even regain partial control of their logical system for brief periods of time. This is what allowed me to do my best to assist my friends through their depression while undergoing it myself. In my instances of regained logical thinking, I developed a strategy to combat depression: portray it as a living entity, and try to determine what is motivating it to torment you. In my case, I call my parasite “Morbus,” and I believe his goals are to make me his only friend, like the “good old days” when I hardly spoke to anyone. He takes the form of a jellyfish-like creature that attaches its appendages to my backside and rests on top of my head, injecting poison into it. I felt that he had always been with me, but only began to speak up when I made more and more friends. I had succeeded in identifying the problem. However, I never sought out help, and I became so good at hiding my parasite that few people noticed until a few months ago when I went on a retreat with my church group. I had hardly spoken to anyone in the group before the retreat, but for some reason, everyone seemed to treat me as an old friend. Morbus tried everything he could to convince me that it was out of pity or that I didn’t deserve it, but for once, his substitute for logic made no sense to me. Thankfully, I was riding high from having helped out a friend the day before, so I had some control over my logical system. These people knew nothing about me, my past, or what I’ve seen my friends go through. They simply treated me the way they treated everyone else, so there was no way it could have been out of pity. Suddenly, I began to question what Morbus had been trying to convince me of for the past few years.

One source of support that I have not yet discussed is religion, which is precisely what helped me on the retreat. Religion, being based on faith rather than fact, appeals to the emotional system, bypassing the setback of a broken illogical system. On the night of this retreat, everyone sat down alone with a priest to confess their sins. I, of course, was incredibly apprehensive that I was not worthy of being forgiven, mainly for how poorly I treated my friends through their struggles in my early days of analyzing their depression. There were many instances I would rather not mention where I was arrogant and inconsiderate, and likely worsened their depression. Before confession, we were given index cards for us to write down our sins if we wanted to, and my index card filled up quickly. I was terrified. However, the priest forgave me for everything I had done. Here, this priest, a messenger of God, the only entity in a position to judge everyone fairly, allowed me to be forgiven? Morbus wouldn’t let me comprehend it.

After confession, everyone was invited to gather around a bonfire the organizers had started outside to roast marshmallows and burn our index cards as a way of forgiving ourselves. As one of the last people to confess my sins to the priest, I was the last person to join everyone at the bonfire. By the time I arrived, everyone else had already cast away their index cards, and I remained alone in the crowd, gripping my folded-up index card. Two of my new friends from the retreat spotted me and told me about how difficult it was for them to forgive themselves, too. That was when I realized that most of the other people were going through what I was. Morbus was making me clench my fist tighter. He never wanted me to let go of that index card. After an eternity of staring at the fire, I told my friends “I don’t know when I’ll be ready, but when I throw this in there, it’s gonna be with a lot of force.” Another eon passed. At last, I walked closer to the fire, and raised my clenched fist above my hand, hesitant to finish the act. The fire wrapped itself around my ankles and ignited my conscience. At last, I threw Morbus into the flames alongside my sins with the force of a meteor, letting out a scream so fitting for a war that everyone else froze.

As the flames quieted and I realized what I had just done, I turned around and left everyone else to thaw out. I didn’t care where I was going; I just needed to enjoy my temporary victory. I made my way near the main building where we had performed our confessions, and I stopped to stare at the moon, that quiet, shining, full moon. Three sets of footsteps approached from behind. I procrastinated for as long as possible before turning to see who they belonged to. Sure enough, they were all friends I had grown close to in the day I was there. I was too shaken to concentrate on what they were saying, but I could sense pure intentions. Then one of them walked up to me and gave me a hug. It wasn’t a romantic hug, simply a platonic one, and it told me everything I needed to know: that I, like everyone else, did indeed deserve to be forgiven.

Since that day, Morbus has returned, but he’s somewhat crippled from his burns. I don’t know if I’ll ever get rid of him, but I’m still grateful for everyone who helped me fight him. Now I have instances in my life in which my logical system is again operational, and I can finally begin to forgive myself. All I hope now is that I can return the favor to my friends who have treated me so kindly despite my mistakes in the past. I hope you will do the same to those you care about in your life, and it can all begin with reading hidden signs and giving simple gestures.