One More Day

I ran into a friend recently, someone who I haven’t seen in many months.  He used to be a bartender at one of my favorite jazz clubs here in the city.  It has since closed down which is a terrible shame, as not only did art suffer but I lost a whole other family. 

When I was going there, sometimes to see a show, sometimes to perform I always had a great time and felt accepted and appreciated.  Many times a musician friend of mine would call last minute and say he had a free ticket to his show….I’d take the 3 buses it would require to get there and good event or bad I would see my friends and talk about the art.

I watched artists develop and the people who ran it!

One such story is the girl who used to run the door became the manager and a boy who was a waiter who fell for her… Over the years I watched the romance develop and watched them move in together and then a baby…..amazing….I loved them both, they were always sweet to me and such a wonderful couple…

But then the venue closed and we promised to keep in touch and eventually we all drifted away.  Life, love and the pursuit of financial security kept us all busy.

And then last week, I run into my friend who has news of my family, my lost artists………….and he has taken his own life at 30 with my friend the manager and 2 babies left behind….because of Depression.

I face the thought of that choice often.  I am grateful to say today, that it does not consume my every waking moment.  However only up until recently it did.  

Why wake up?  Why Bother? What could I do tonight that might allow me to not wake up?

The thought of facing another day can be the most daunting choice that you can conceive of.  For those who are not afflicted with this disease, and yes it is a disease, that concept may seem unbelievable to you.  Far fetched.  It is impossible to describe to someone not living it.  And even to those of us who do live it,  each day it is still specific, still various to our own personal chemistry.  Creating our own personal hell.

It is a rollercoaster, and you just don’t know what the next day can bring, it could be better, but unfortunately in the depths of this disease it can be, and often is, worse.

I am currently relatively stable, leaving my house on a more regular basis and not completely encompassed by fear, and so in this moment I can say to those who suffer, it WILL get better.  Be gentle to yourself, keep your daily agenda small and give yourself great credit for just getting out of bed.  I truly know how hard it is.  And if you can get help…..free clinics and cheap mental health care is available…I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world and I have meds at about $40 for months worth and counseling at about $35 an hour.  It can be done.

I lost a friend this week and his family lost a son, a father and a husband.  As much as you might not see your worth, we need you…please hang on..just one more day and then lets see how the next one goes. 

http://www.healthysanfrancisco.org/visitors/

http://www.accessinst.org/services.html

http://sfprg.org/low_fee_clinic.html

Depression Is The New Black

Not to say everyone should have it….keep it in your closet…the old reliable…the staple…No… dear god no.

It’s becoming more visible, more mainstream, more accepted, more talked about, more understood…as much as it can be.

I saw as recently as a few weeks ago that Jon Hamm of  “Mad Men” (…. the irony is complimentary ) has suffered with the disease, along with, in the entertainment world… Jim Carey, Drew Barrymore, Drew Carey, Russell Brand, Jane Pauly, and Zach Braff…to name but a few…

Willaim Styron, the man responsible for the award winning “Sophie’s Choice” also wrote a powerful book about his own struggle with Depression…I have never read anything that so accurately described the constant chaos that exists in the mind, that so contradicts what is commonly misconstrued with Depression...

 It is not a sedative state, it is manic, unruly and consistently various in its nature..

In a passage in the book, he details the events leading up to an award ceremony in Europe to honor him and how incapable he was of finding any joy in any of the surrounding circumstances..A wife that loved and supported him, who was there, his peers, his colleagues gathered to speak in one voice that they deemed him worthy of honor.   His work was worthy, his art had affected millions and it was time to scream that love from the rooftops.

His response was one of dread, fear and utter panic.  Sweating and pining at his lot in life, wishing some horror to befall him so as to excuse his own presence.  He spoke to me in those passages and I finally felt heard.  

He also spoke of the word’s origin and how itself, doesn’t make clear the mania that is hand in hand with the disease  “noun of action from deprimere  "to press down, depress" “

As an artist, I struggle with my various muses and the need to feel understood, to have my voices, whether they be print, paint or voice to be as clear as a bell when it comes to message I am sending..

To know that men and women of worth, means and no means can create art while housing this beast gives me pause, pause to say….Do I belong?    ….here with them?  Belong with them because I too carry the same vortex of fear and because I wish to scream my messages without actually opening my mouth.

Are my messages as worthy? As literary ? As colorful, as poetic, or am I in their room because I too lack the peace I see in so many others.

Western medicine is a relative virgin when it comes to treating depression as every single person with this disease is a virtual snowflake of specifics.  Which is why no set medication can work en mass.

We are guinea pigs that must suffer the trial and error of physical chemical warfare, in tandem with talk therapy to achieve any internal balance. 

I have accepted many comments in the moment, (especially in those moments of vulnerability )that infuriate me later, sometimes minutes, but most often weeks later.  The frustrated unfeeling comments of uneducated so called friends.  “Snap out of It” “Get over yourself”  “You’re just trying to be dramatic”, all of which I have taken and barely squeaked out a reply of “ I wish I could”.

We who suffer are stronger than most, as we choose to try and live each day.  Living truly living and not coping is the ultimate goal because all we want is to feel better, if we could only figure out how.

“The madness of depression is the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained. “

-William Styron

From Darkness Visible - A Memoir Of Madness