I recently had quite a vivid dream, really odd as I normally don’t remember them. In it Jaz Coleman, the singer from Killing Joke, offered to draw my depression out in an exorcism-like ritual which I accepted. It got me thinking:
If we could ‘cure’ our depression and be free of it forever, would we let it happen?
Would I love to get rid of the pain, the hurt, the suffering? Give me a hell yeah, brothers and sisters!
But, wait a moment. To me, my depression is something that’s now deeply part of my psychological make up. I am me and I am depressed, ergo, I am depressed and I am me.
Without my depression I wouldn’t exactly be me. I wouldn’t be writing here. I wouldn’t have been in bands. I wouldn’t have lived my life the way I have. My tastes in everything wouldn’t be the same as I’m certainly drawn to the darker things in life.
The paths I would have taken would not have been the ones I walked down, the choices i made would be completely different. My life, and me as I am now, would not exist as it is.
So the choice, when it boils down it would be this:
Me, as I am now
Me, without the emotional pain and darkness, someone who essentially isn’t me at all.
In some alternative reality there’s a me that exists, a complete polar opposite to what I am. He lives his life in a state of blissful ignorance to what I’ve gone through. This has me partially jealous, but also a little sad that they’ll never experience the life I have, all it’s colours (not all of them black), all it’s subtleties and nuances, all the things that make my life completely unique to me.
As weird as it might sound, as hard as it might be to understand, I wouldn’t change. I am the sum of my parts, not a series of diagnoses. Depression is just a part of me. I will continue the dance to the song in my head, I will not be sanitised. I might be crazy to be this way but I’ve also recognised I would not be who I am without it’s influence.