“Like a man travelling in foggy weather, those at some distance before him on the road he sees wrapped up in the fog, as well as those behind him, and also the people in the fields on each side, but near him all appears clear, though in truth he is as much in the fog as any of them.”

Benjamin Franklin

(I’m approaching this blog post as a bit more of a journal entry than anything else. A documentation of what came spilling out of my brain as soon as I sat down with the intention to write. Thanks for reading!)

As we all know, life is a constant and ever changing learning experience. Well, that’s one way you can look at it. I guess you could also see it as a constant cloud raining on your parade. Your choice, I suppose. Recently, I’ve been learning what I can tolerate as a human being. Learning how deep, dark, and unyielding my depression can be. I’ve been spending lots of time sitting in silence trying to clear my mind and stream of consciousness journaling to see what my brain communicates to my hand to form into letters and words. Sometimes consisting of, “This is dumb. My hand hurts. I need more coffee in my belly before I can make it through one more damn sentence. Oh, and my hand is falling off.” Other times it’s led to major revelations like learning that I don’t actually need other people’s validation to decide my own worth. (DUH.) Which is a surprisingly hard one for me.

I’ve always craved validation. I hate to admit that I still thrive off of it, but I’m about 800% positive I’m not the only one (especially thanks to social media). Craving validation can be beneficial when it’s working in your favor, of course - ya know...when you’re getting validated. But what about the flops? What about the times when your ego’s back doesn’t get scratched like you were hoping? What about the times when you’re feeling like shit about yourself so you try and get that quick high from lots of likes on social media and your post totally bombs? What happens when you put your self worth in the hands of thousands of others at the opposite end of a tiny hand held computer? You wanna know what happens?

It blows up in your face like an exploding turd tornado. That’s what happens. I often put my self confidence and self worth in the hands of others- in the hands of total strangers who have never met me. I let them decide if I’m enough. And holy shit, is that so fucking stupid. It’s like handing your baby to a hungry grizzly bear so you can reach down and pick up your phone. We all need to stop giving so many fucks about what other people think of us.

During moments of clarity through this fog of depression I’ve been stuck in, I’ve been able to glimpse the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s dim, but it’s there and it’s something I can focus my eyes on. However, I’m also still able to look back into the darkness behind me and see the path I’ve been on these last few months. I can’t see all the way to the beginning of the long, dark tunnel where it all began, but I can still see the foot prints left along the path. Through gravel and sand. Footprints traversing a trail through jagged rocks and skirting the edges of gaping holes that seem to be bottomless and black. Footprints still imprinted in the soft, dark Earth. I can still feel the cold of the darkness as it clings to me, but the light from the end of the tunnel is slowly burning away the damp tunnel air. I haven’t quite made it to that bright light at the end, but I’m not quite out of the darkness yet either. 

The word “fog” always comes to mind when I try to think of ways to describe depression. It’s a fog that drapes over your mind. It shields your thoughts from the light, keeping you on the edge of clarity, but under a sheet of distortion. The fog isn’t so dense that you can’t see at all, but dense enough to confuse and disorient. During tough days of depression, I would be partaking in my favorite activities : training with my favorite people, tattooing great clients, spending time in the mountains- and the fog would continue to wash through my mind and cloud my joy with negativity, enveloping it like a damp blanket of confusion, frustration, and desperation to feel “normal” and “happy.”

Depression, for me, is also a physical sensation. My body feels heavy. I can actually feel the sides of my mouth being pulled down by the weight of my own thoughts, creating a frown or scowl- not really what you’d expect from someone with as big a smile as mine. I remember one day in particular when I was feeling really shitty, but I still had to run a lot of errands between numerous stores. So off I went. At each store, the person ringing up my items asked, “are you doing ok, today?” I looked up each time with a quick smile and responded, “Oh yeah, I’m good. You?”  Before tilting my head back down to look at my wallet and hide the confusion on my face. I was shocked, because I feel like people normally ask, “How are you doing today?” not, “Are you doing ok?” Apparently my mood was palpable to those around me. It bothered the hell out of me, knowing that I couldn’t even hide my depression from strangers. It was like I was walking around with “SAD” scrawled across my forehead in sharpie. I was so numb to my surroundings that I let my “No really, I’m ok” mask slip down around my neck in public, replaced by a sullen looking, mopey old lady mask.

I pride myself in my ability to feel. I’m grateful for the range of emotions I am capable of experiencing because I feel like I can love so deeply, and enjoy so greatly, and am so full of emotion that it comes streaming out of my eyes in many a situation- happy, sad, frustrated, joyful, angry, generally stressed the fuck out...you know. The numbness that accompanies my depression has been terrible and very familiar. 

The last time I experienced this level of depression and anxiety was around the time my eating disorder began nearly 10 years ago. I was in a perfectly happy relationship with a perfectly nice fella doing perfectly nice things and yet I hated everything around me- especially myself. My depression kept me so deeply tucked away in my own mind that I became completely numb to any and all situations. The day I broke off my relationship with said perfectly nice guy was the same day I realized my lack of feeling. Both physically and emotionally - and my lack of feelings for him. We had spent the whole morning and afternoon at Six Flags theme park, riding roller coasters and watching two of our friends trip on mushrooms....but that’s a different story. We waited in line for what felt like an eternity to get on my favorite roller coaster (I love roller coasters, by the way) and as we strapped in for the ride I started to notice my lack of excitement. We lurched forward for that slow chug up the first big hill and I felt nothing. We crested the top, you know that point when your adrenaline is pumping and your face is flushing with excitement...and I felt like I was stoically still waiting in line. I knew that day that I had to end it and try and make big changes in my life, because all I knew at that moment was that I wasn’t happy where I was. I didn’t know what depression really was at the time, though. I didn’t know that my hatred for my body and everything about myself wasn’t under my control. I didn’t understand anything I was going through. I didn’t know that I was heading towards a very long, dark path that would change me forever.

But the funny thing about these long dark paths is that they can truly help us grow. They really can. We appreciate the light so much more when we’ve been stuck in the dark. We appreciate a beautiful sunny day so much more after weeks of rain. It’s all about our perspective. Is it a learning experience or is it a rain cloud?

In this time of clarity, all I can do is be grateful. Grateful that the fog seems to be thinning. Grateful that I’m even able to be grateful again- which is a big deal. Losing your ability to feel gratitude is such a sad place to be. The fog hindered my ability to see the abundance I’m already living in- the shit that I should always and forever be insanely grateful for- love, big beautiful love, a warm and comfortable home, a job where I have freedom and work with amazing people, a support system that doesn’t leave me when I fall, a body that is breathing and existing, and a future that has endless possibilities. 

I’m writing this blog post not only as a way to show others who struggle with depression that they aren’t alone, but also as a cathartic and vulnerable journal entry. Thank you, as always, for the taking the time to read what I write and for being you. Cheers.

cj