Figuring it out / Mom

Maybe trying to figure out life should take a whole lifetime. There are little things I worry about as I get older. My life with cleft lip and palate is an ongoing battle I worry will turn as I get older. With a hole in the roof of my mouth I run risk of infection, collapse and other little things. Not imminently, but the threat of it causes anxiety. As I have worked on myself in the last year I have learned a lot about what causes my anxiety, it’s usually triggered by a half thought out of nowhere and my brain picks it up and runs with it. Social media, specifically seeing people happy causes me a lot of depression. I was always taught that people have it worse off than me. But, at the same time I would like think that more people are happier than I could be. Things like holidays trigger my anxiety and depression. Growing up Christmas was always the home run. My mom went all out at Christmas. Still yelled and got temperamental. But there is few Christmas’ in my life I don’t cherish every memory of.

Which leads me to this. I love my family, I love my mother. I forgive a lot, I have forgotten a lot. I am truly not ready to talk to my mother. There is years of stress, depression and memories I have to try to work through. You only get one mother. My mother was a champion for sticking up for me, for looking after my health, for being what I needed as I got older. Along with that is the fights, the arguments, the swearing, and ultimately the depression I would learn that I have. I encountered depression for the first time at 6. As a kid, it was called being sad. But, I remember the feeling and it is similar to my everyday life now. As I got older I wished my mom told me what depression is, but when it is undiagnosed through most of my family, and not dealt with. It manifests, you become numb to what depression does to your everyday actions. There was a lot of love. There was arguably more vitriol and anger that filled the house. Up until the way the relationship with my mother that was put on hold. Which all of what was said to me has been forgiven and forgotten. Attacking my uncle who raised, cooked and cleaned for us is something I have a hard time getting over. The ugly, sad, and hateful language that you would lobby at your brother and his wife is what crushes me when I think about calling my mom again.

I think when I get older, maybe the anxieties and neuroses I have about talking to my mother again will ease. Christmas time  is usually my time for reflection. It was always when I was happiest and when I felt like our house of yelling and name calling was happy.

This is a blogpost I have had written for 3 years. Maybe it is my fear of disappointing my mother one last time. As I have nearly disappointed my family/mother  at every turn in my life. I am ultimately my mother’s child, with the same mental health problems, the same grudge-holding ability and the same regret when I get mad.

Love you, mom. I will be ready to talk, someday.

Much love,
Regards

Devon

Disappointment

It's getting a little tough right now. There are always brighter days, but the darker days are here. When I suffered my first bout of depression at the age of 10, I thought that hopefully this does not last throughout my life. 17 years of cyclical depression is frustrating, upsetting and... well depressing. I always have hope that eventually I will reach an age where my depression is like, "Nah, I'm done". Whenever that happens I will have finally reached my own heaven.

I am becoming increasingly more aware how depression systematically fucks with your career, school and relationships. One thing that always is a depression trigger for me is disappointing people. I am a people pleaser (still an asshole some days). However, no amount of kudos or general gratitude outweighs one instance of disappointing someone. It's never myself, either. I've been disappointing myself since I was 7. From the first time I forgot how to spell "who" in 3rd grade. I guess when being introspective, I was able to rationalize most of my own disappointments, compartmentalize and repress and move on. I guess that's not healthy, but I don't know what healthy is.

I'm worried I am disappointing everyone. I feel I am disappointing my wife. I fear I am disappointing my Mother in law. I'm worried I am disappointing my uncle and my aunt. I'm worried I am disappointing my friends, by not visiting. I'm worried I am disappointing my best friends. I'm worried that I will disappoint people enough that I am alone. This is not a cry for people to say you do not disappoint me. I know I do not, but demons are stronger than my rational mind most days.

I am afraid to make jokes, some days. I am afraid to talk. I am afraid to move some days.

My biggest disappointment in life is how my demons have controlled a lot of my future, without me realizing it in the past. I have little self-respect. It wears and grinds at your aspirations. I did not try in a lot of ways. Most days my depression would dictate something like "You are probably going to fail. You are going to get fired. You are not doing enough. You are doing too much. You do not need to do that". As long as I did the bare minimum, I would have enough mental sustain to make it through another week. I did not enjoy school, for the reason that depression crushes you when you take exams. I failed relationships because the thought of "If someone else is depressed, you'll feel better." It is a dangerous way to live life with always wondering when someone will tune you up. You isolate, you forget. You forgive but the other person does not. That is when depression has won.

I am worried that no one wants to read the depressed thoughts of a 27 year old man.

I am worried I am disappointing everyone.

Regards,

Devon.

10 years

I don't have a picture of myself at age 17. That's probably a lie, but like fuck I'm going to try to unearth it.

If you had told me when I was 17 that I would still be here. I would call you a liar. The thoughts I had at 17 were depressing and self-deprecating. Unfortunately, that has not changed in 10 years.

If you had told me I would meet the love of my life, marry her and tell me that she would still put up with me after 9 years.

If you would have told me my thoughts on climate change would skew so far into the other direction... Well I would fucking hope so with the amount of information out there.

If you had told me that I would plan my life being over at 22, and live to 27 I would honestly have been a little disappointed.

If you would have told me that I would hold a job for graduate high school, go to university and hold a steady job for 6 years I would have been ecstatic.

If you would have told me I have made some of the raddest friends who live everywhere around the world that would have surprised me.

If you would have told me that 10 years on I would become on of the most selfless persons I know. I would be shocked.

If you told me I would stop trying to ruin people's day with trolling and vicious verbal attacks I would have probably lashed out at you.

If you would have told me that my depression is dealt with for the most part, it is still crippling and makes me afraid of the world I would have probably died when I had planned too.

If you would have told me that nearly my entire family including my brothers, mother and grandmother could give two shits about what happens to me, I would be heartbroken. That my family has outcasted and shunned me, I would have probably have wept. However, that is the harsh reality of growing up angry, bitter and depressed.

If you would have told me that I would be searching for a job for 4 months without a call back at the age of 27, I'd be a little disappointed in myself.

Trying to rebuild a person who was broken, angry and afraid over 10 years has been a frustrating endeavor. I always wonder if I have changed for the better.
Wonder if I made the right choice by living.
If life will be different in another 10 years. If I will still be pain, mentally and physically.
If I will still be outcast from my family.
If I am a better person. If I have a job I'm comfortable in.
If I am still married to the love of my life, or will she grow tired of me. Because, I've grown tired of myself.
If I will stop being as grating and aggressive.
If I would become the person I thought I could be when I was 7. If I could've changed the situation for the people who have passed. That I would hope I still stick up for the little guys. If the world would seem a little more stable and cohesive. If I would finally be happy in life.
In 10 years I hope I am still here, for better or worse.