What are we so afraid of?

I remember I used to get really upset at my mom. She’s suffered from depression pretty much her whole life and she let it control her. She isolated herself from her friends…in part from her family…from living really. She’s experienced so much loss in her life and she let it bury her. And God, it used to frustrate me!

I convinced her once to see a cognitive therapist to really try and attack the depression and make real moves to get control of it. I had great success with it at one point as I too suffer from depression. She saw the person a couple times and then quit and I remember us having an argument about her quitting. She just kept saying that it was too hard. And I remember telling her; “You’re just comfortable being depressed. You don’t want out. This is what you’ve known your whole life and it’s scary to think you might actually get better and live a happier life without carrying all of those burdens – of the people you’ve lost, of the heartache, of the grief – you’re afraid of who you’ll be if you’re not depressed.”

I always wanted to shake her and say;

“COME OUT OF THERE!!! I KNOW SO MANY OF YOUR LOVED ONES HAVE DIED BUT YOU’RE STILL HERE!!! YOU STILL HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!! WE’RE STILL HERE!! I’M STILL HERE!! I’M RIGHT HERE! COME OUT HERE INTO THE SUN WITH ME! TRAVEL WITH ME, COME ON ADVENTURES WITH ME! LAUGH WITH ME! I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO CARRY YOU. I WANT YOU TO BE BY MY SIDE! PLEASE!!!”

But nothing I said every really worked. We had little spurts of joy and I would relish the few times when I would see her laugh or have her come visit me on one of my many adventures. I would always say to myself; “Remember this. Put this in permanent ink somewhere in your mind where you can go back and relive it again and again because this happens so infrequently.” And now…well. I can’t be frustrated anymore. There’s no use. She has bigger battles to fight than her depression. Alzheimer’s is a bigger monster to slay. And it’s winning…

While I have tried so hard to do the exact opposite of her in terms of working through grief and pain…unfortunately, the apple still does not fall far from the tree in some respects. I am seeing more and more how much I tolerate pain and anxiety solely because I am used to it. This is the space I’ve lived in for so long that I’m not sure what it would look like to be free of it. I used to describe my mom’s life as an endless cycle of sickness, dying, and death. This is what she knows. This is what she understands. And as I self-reflect, I realize that this is also what I know. This is what I understand and there is a weird comfort in the depression. There is a weird comfort in the pain and the mental and physical exertion of that pain. At times it feels awful…and yet I do nothing to extricate myself from feeling like this and in some cases, I keep going back for more. Don’t get me wrong – in so many ways I fight like hell to keep my depression at bay and I’ve become very good at doing so. I always say: Nobody fights like me. I fight to keep myself open to new people, new experiences, new loves, and new joys as much as possible. I’ve had many great adventures as a result of living my life this way (I could tell you some stories!!) I’m good at being able to channel my depression and utilize different outlets in order to keep myself in a positive space mentally, emotionally, and physically, and recently I am reminded that while I have made great strides, there is still work to be done.

The truth is…I’ve become complacent, desensitized, and comfortable with the pain. I feel it marginally at best. At most I feel anxious and when I feel that anxiety, that’s when I start to question what I’m doing and why I’m let certain situations continue. It’s a very odd sensation – to recognize/be aware of a problem and still struggle to do anything about it – because of that complacency and comfort.

I feel like the arguments I used to have with my mom about her depression are now conversations I need to be having with myself: Do you really want to be happy? Do you really want to let go of your depression? Why are you so scared of who you will be without it? Getting rid of depression is hard f*cking work and you’re a hypocrite for telling your mother for years that she needed to work harder to let it go…and in a sense you’re in the same cycle she was in.

Pot meet kettle.

I always used to think that she had carried her depression and guilt for so long that it was scarred into her identity. And that she was scared to find out who she would be without a huge piece of who she is. And to be honest…I think I’m nervous about the same thing. Loss is what I know. Dealing with loss is what I understand. Pain. Grief. Sadness. I get that. They have been my companions since I was a little girl. Is this the only language I can understand?

It can’t be. Can it? I’ve been able to dig myself out of some seriously deep holes in my life. And yet I find myself wondering how will I do this? How will I get to the other side of this as a stronger, happier, and more whole person? How?

Weirdly enough, it’s times like this when I miss my mom the most. She would have been my first call. Yes we argued about her life choices, but we also talked for hours, commiserated, and were there to comfort each other. We were very close. We’re still close, but it’s different now. So different. She has big monsters to slay and worrying about me and my levels of depression won’t help her. So conversation is kept light as much as possible.

Now I want to shake her for a completely different reason…

“COME OUT OF THERE!!! MOEDER…PLEASE!! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!! WE ARE HERE! I’M STILL HERE!! I’M RIGHT HERE! COME OUT HERE INTO THE SUN WITH ME! TRAVEL WITH ME, COME ON ADVENTURES WITH ME! LAUGH WITH ME! I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO CARRY YOU. I WANT YOU TO BE BY MY SIDE! PLEASE!!!”

Please.