Depression got a lot of focus yesterday and it got me to reflect. Lots of times, we look at really dark moments as being most prevalent in our teenaged years only and I saw a lot of people refer to a time in the late 90s/early 2000s and give homage to music that helped them through that time. I was in the same boat and there were a handful of bands and artists that helped me make it through high school. But for a lot of us, depression wasn't just a phase or a section. For me, it was and still is a deep longing for the absence of pain and emptiness. I don't respond with optimism when I experience hurt or defeat or emptiness as often as I do. I respond with frustration. I respond with anger. I respond with isolation. I've gone through different phases, using different coping mechanisms to fight back against these feelings in an effort to give myself those small spurts of joy that act as catalysts to keep my fucking heart beating. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's hard. My dad didn't find what he needed and that sucks. If you call out suicide as a coward's way out, or as a selfish choice, as frustrating as it is, I can't make a claim that you haven't dealt with depression in a similar way. I can, however, lament at how you're unable to be compassionate in such a dark situation. That fucking sucks.
After yesterday, I revisited some of my toughest times and I sat and considered whether or not there's anything I had to offer. There isn't. But I can share what someone else has.
I met Stick To Your Guns somewhere around 2009. Even as a doofus kid in a warehouse, Jesse gave off this aura of positivity that resonated with me. And it wasn't an optimistic attitude. Rather, it was belief in what he wanted. He so faithfully believed that there was goodness that we could find. I heard him say it from the stage and felt it whenever I was around him. The Hope Division is a record that I've shared with so many people because it had such a profound effect on the dark parts of my life. I gave it to one of my group home girls and she wrote me later in her life, telling me was a reason she stuck around. (Cont)