In The Moment

I remember the first time I felt the tight grip of depression. I was 7. It was a sunny spring day and I was having dinner. In a singular moment I felt a disconnect from the world around me. I was aware of the weather, my family and the delicious meal in front of me, but it all of a sudden the significance of it disappeared. I went inside myself and began asking myself questions, like "what is the point of all of this? Does it matter? I'm just going to grow up, only to die and in the meantime I'm just finding things to do to kill time before my inevitable demise." I looked at my food and was no longer hungry. I felt a heavy weight in my chest. I sat there at the dinner table that evening at seven years old questioning my existence while the rest of my family shoveled food into their faces. I had never felt so overwhelmed yet empty at the same time. I had traveled to a dark lonely place I didn't know had existed until that moment. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to leave that dark corner of my mind and forget it, but it's one those things that once you learn of its existence there's no unlearning it.

The next day I woke up and went about my day as per usual, school, ballet, dinner, TV and then bed. I didn't go to that place, I stayed in the moment all day. I was connected to my world again. The weight in my chest wasn't there. I had snapped out of my shadow place and come back to the present.

I didn't revisit that place until a few years later. I was 10 and would get drawn back into myself for a day or two and then snap back to the present, but as I got older the frequency and duration of my visits to the void increased. Eventually I began to dwell there. When you make that place a home is the point where it becomes clinical depression, and when something is clinical, it means that there's usually some kind of medication to make you forget about the void.

I've tried several forms of medication to alleviate my depression. Some of the medications have been prescribed by a doctor, others I have prescribed for myself. Whatever my drug of choice has been whether it's Zoloft, alcohol, sex or work, it's never been entirely effective. I still slip away into the void. Why is that?

The answer can be found in childhood itself. The thing I miss the most about being a kid is living in the moment every second of the day. While medicating depression can be helpful to address the neuro chemical issues that are going on, I've noticed that medication in it's many forms only part of the solution. When I am mindful of the present, I can escape the void.

I've been struggling with some pretty serious depression over the past year and for reasons I'm not going into right now, I can't take prescription drugs. I also refuse to self medicate because I know for myself it's a slippery slope back into addiction. So what do I do?

I become like a child again. It's a form of self care. I play. I think about nothing else except what I'm doing in that moment of play and I relish it.

Playing can really be anything as long as it's done purely for enjoyment and there is no responsibility attached to it. For example, I go for walks in the nature and imagine that I'm exploring a new world. I touch the bark of the trees. I feel the sensation of the texture on my fingertips. I look at the leaves and notice the veins. I look at my skin and see my own veins. I pretend that I'm a tree and feel my feet on the ground. I picture my body drawing the nutrients out of the earth and it's life flowing into my veins just like the leaves. It may sound silly, but it helps.

I know that one day I won't visit the void nearly as often. For now it's a struggle, but as long as I take the time to play I can bring myself back to the moment and back to life.

My favorite song is Nine Inch Nails' Into The Void because not only is it a beautifully crafted piece of music, but lyrically describes exactly the struggle I've faced when trying to fight depression. This line from the song sums it all up.

"Try to save myself, but myself keeps slipping away."

I'll leave you with the song. I urge you to listen to it, in it's entirety. Sometimes it helps to know you're not alone in the void.