Things about depression, things about being human

For those who prefer watching over reading, an (experimental) video version is available on Instagram: @keelycarney

When I had depression, it was cyclical.

I’d have a few months in a row where I felt vibrantly alive, full of energy, ambition and hope.

Then I’d have a few months where I felt drained and depleted. Listless. Apathetic. Anything but vibrantly alive.

When I was knees deep in my depression detective phase, using my up periods to learn what I could do to prevent down cycles, I came across a quote by Andrew Solomon. “The opposite of depression,” he said, “Isn’t happiness, but vitality.”

“The opposite of depression isn’t happiness, but vitality.”

Few truths have ever hit me harder.

Depression, for me, had very little to do with sadness. It had to do with depletion. Exhaustion. A soul-level weariness.

For me, this included an inability to summon energy, even if the situation desperately called for it.

This never happened (fortunately), but I imagine that if Sam attempted to end our relationship during one of my down cycles, I wouldn’t have fought for it.

Same thing if I had gotten fired or a friend chose to sever ties or a family member cut me out of their life.

Non-depressed me would have tapped into some inner resolve to fight for things I cared about. Depressed me wouldn’t have been able to connect to that inner fire.

I would have meekly accepted whatever hand the universe dealt me at the time because it didn’t feel like there were other options.

It’s ironic that I’m writing about this because, just last night, I told Sam, “I so hungry for some light pieces. Some satire about my brothers, some making fun of myself.” Then I showed up at the keyboard this morning and a deep dive into depression is what flowed out.

Back in those days, when I was struggling with those painful cycles, I never knew what came first: did I stop doing the things that kept me well (like connecting with friends, exercising and pursuing hobbies) and then depression crept in? Or did depression creep in, then I stopped doing the things that kept me well?

Which was the cause? Which was the effect?

I still don’t know. But I do know that today, generally well-ish Keely is just as susceptible to cause and effect as battling-cycles-of-depression Keely was.

So is resilient and optimistic Sam.

So is “I’m-a-goddamn-delight” Thor.

So are you.

So is your partner, your best friend, your child and the woman who helped you treat that nasty toe infection.

We all are. Being susceptible to cause and effect is part of the human experience.

Knowing that the perpetual travel of the last few months has been rough for me, my loved ones have been reaching out to ask how I’m doing now that I’m back home. And I’ve been saying, “Now that I’m writing again, I’m feeling good.”

But, last night, I read something from Laura Dawn, a motivational speaker and leadership coach in the psychedelic space, that said, “We just can’t create from a place of depletion.”

Specifically it said, “I’ve taken some serious time off all social media over the past 6 months. I needed to rest to refill my cup so I could have the energy to tap back into the frequency of inspiration, because we just can’t create from a place of depletion.”

Then I wondered, “Am I feeling better because I’m writing? Or am I writing because I’m feeling better?”

And I don’t know. But I love remembering that these themes are true across the board. Cause and effect is a factor when you’re struggling with serious mental health challenges. Cause and effect is a factor when you’re generally well-ish. Cause and effect is a factor, period.

Wishing you beautiful causes and beautiful effects,

Keely