There are a lot of anti-drugs adverts out there, telling you how you should “Just Say No” to drugs. Drugs are bad mmmm’kay. Drugs are not, however, the topic of discussion today. Instead I am encouraging you all to “Just Say No” to something far more damaging than drugs, that something is depression.
Like drugs, depression also has street names, which I know, because I am down like that. I’ll give you a quick run-down of them, depression is aka “D”, “The Big D”, or simply “The D”. So when you overhear some guy telling another male friend that “she wants The D”, you can step in and warn him that giving her “The D” is not a very nice thing to do, will fuck with her head and may make her cry. If he was truly her friend then he wouldn’t give it to her. True dat.
But you have to make your own choices in life, and whenever somebody comes up to you and offers you some depression, that’s the time when you should say no. Even a little is bad for you, unlike drugs, where you keep having to go out of your way to get hold of it, depression grows itself. It’s even easier to grow than marijuana, and we all know how easy that is to get hold of.
Now, no good “Just Say No” campaign would be any use if it didn’t explain why you should say no. After all, in these enlightened times we are allowed to make our own judgements on what we should or shouldn’t do. So here we go.
Once you’ve done your first line of depression, you’ll notice a subtle difference, things become less enjoyable than before, you start to notice things that you didn’t really notice before, you notice that most people are actually assholes. This begins to bother you. This bothering becomes the manure in which depression grows.
You start with minor fuck ups, getting into drunken fights, saying stupid things, generally being thoughtless or not exciting enough. Overall though, you muddle through because you have enough good times with those around you that, on the balance of things, they accept that you have a role to play in their life. You’ll have good moments where you can take someone to somewhere exciting, make them laugh, or just be there when they need you. These moments will decrease in frequency as you take more and more depression.
Eventually you’ll fuck up enough that even whoever it is you love will walk away from you, stating in no uncertain terms that you will, in all likelihood, die alone. In fact, he or she is almost certainly off to spend time with his or her friends, possible involving a drug filled orgy, in the hope that you will have gone off and died alone while they were out.
Of course, if you do get so low that you want to kill yourself, you can’t even talk to the friends you have left about it. If you do then there are only two possible outcomes: they either berate you for attention seeking, or offer a consoling ear for a couple of weeks before they start avoiding you, having themselves become sick to death hearing about how you are, in your very special way, making yourself sick to death.
Like drug addicts, even if you do recover, you’re still without all your old friends. After all, they can only remember the person who was falling apart, not the confident, intelligent, mildly amusing person that you were before everything started going tits up. Who can blame them anyway? How many ex-smackheads do you enjoy the company of on a regular basis?
Once everyone you know has let you down, and in return you have pissed them off beyond the reasonable limits any other human should endure, you realise that if this is the worst life can throw at you, you may as well continue anyway, because, well, you survived this shit. Once you have thrown down this gauntlet, life does its best to meet the challenge and get even more shit. Eventually you may get bored of this game and just wander off and enjoy life instead, because that’s far easier. You do, unfortunately, have to find a whole new group of friends. “Sorry, I went mad back there and spend 12 months fucking everything up on a semi-regular basis” is not the sort of excuse that people tend to emphasise with. You were weak and chose to say yes to the D, you can’t have it all better now. (This is a generalisation, there are people out there who will accept that you have changed back to how you were before you changed, you can recognise them by the fact that they usually have “Mug” tattooed on their forehead.)
They say that love conquers all, they are wrong, depression does. Depression even conquers death, if you die in an accident, or from ill health, you will be missed. If you are depressed then you are just an asshole, if you commit suicide then you’re a selfish asshole.
It’s probably not best to kill yourself, not unless you have got everything in order so nobody has to clear up after you, and even then you’ve thought of a particularly amusing way in which to extinguish any future improvements that may occur.
Instead you need to start weaning yourself off depression. Some people recommend counselling, therapy or medication. I advocate accepting things as they are and generally not giving a shit. Accept that you fucked up, accept that you’ve lost everything you held close to you and generally say ‘Fuck it’. You have to let stuff go eventually. You can’t hold onto everything, your arms would get tired.
You then get to rebuild your life, piece by piece, in a new, more solid and more interesting way, possibly one that involves moats and turrets, a reference that you’ll only get once you’ve read an article that I haven’t written yet.
So remember boys and girls, next time a man in a van offers you some depression: Just Say No!