The Depth
By Andrew Dendy
I am in a hole. It is a hole I’ve been in before and will be in again. Gloom, stress, anxiety, sorrow, paranoia, over things that on any other day I rationalize. It’s a medium-sized hole: I can see light coming in, I know that this is not all there is and that I’m going to get out of it. Still, I am in it and know that I will be in it for days to come.
I have been battling a cyclical form of depression for the better part of four years. My most academically stressful years of college really brought this on. The origin of the condition, as far as I can remember, seemed to start as a somber questioning of myself and the world, a questioning that was always more curious than painful. In my opinion, the gravity of young adult life has allowed it to fester into something else.
The hole is dug at random but can overlap with life events which deepen the notches. The first three days are like being lowered into the hole: it’s slow and gradual, I know exactly what is happening and that I can’t do anything to stop it. This part used to inspire panic, but it’s become more a part of my long-term routine as it exercises my mind over time.
I’m prepared to face it.
After the days of being lowered in, I’m at the bottom of the hole, looking out and waiting for my chance to clamber up the walls to normality. I remember in college that this was the worst part for me, and I guess it still is, but it does not feel as dire as it once did. Sometimes I couldn’t get out of my bed, I called my mom in hysterics, saying I was never going to be able to accomplish what I was doing. I still call my mom, but the discussion is more controlled.
I tell her where I am at and that I am aware of what’s going on, but it helps me process it when I verbalize it to her. The bottom of the hole gives me too much space to think… I reflect on mistakes from my past, or problems that have just occurred, or problems I know are to come, and I allow them to terrorize me in ways that flower into a sense of dread. Unhealthy reflection, how odd.
The clamoring upwards starts with my first bit of rational thought – which has been gone for a week or so at this point. One of those unhealthy reflections has been thought about so much, that my mind has desperately uncovered this first sign of sensibility found in the soil of the hole we’ve been in.
I really have to work at this point. Coming up with real-world solutions to whatever I’m hung up on, trying to get my brain back to a rational thought process. I can’t just snap my fingers and get there; I have to believe that what I’m going to do to get better will make me happy again.
Hope, I guess you could say, is what triggers my ascent out of the hole every time.
Once I am out, an innate sense of peace washes over me. I’m looking down into the hole now, barely believing I was in it for such a long time, that I thought about the things in the way I did. I’ve just shed the skin of another version of myself. This hasn’t started happening until recently, but I now look back on all the holes I’ve climbed out of with a sort of fondness.
Yes, I am grateful that I battle depression on a semi-regular basis. Without it, I would have never become the person I am today, and I won’t be able to grow into the person I am tomorrow without it.
Finding growth in this condition has become my medication for it and a rationale for its existence.
Talking to a doctor I had briefly in Birmingham, AL, I was hastily prescribed Zoloft for about three or four months, which did not allow me to feel other feelings really. Becoming numb is not an answer for me.
I had to look elsewhere for a remedy. The cost of finding my own answers is that the cycles of depression have not gone away. It’s now become a matter of management.
The most pain comes now from knowing that my holes are not as deep as those of others. I know that there are so many more people out there who get lowered into holes that don’t allow any light to come in, who can’t possibly fathom being grateful for the prison their mind has become. The depth of the hole seems to determine the reaction to it.
I think about people who are close to me who may be battling these things and have not told me, and in turn, have not discovered that sharing experiences might be the best way to beat it. I think about role models of mine who were tormented and unable to level with the existence of themselves and their condition; Anthony Bourdain – who had plenty of time to reflect and document these feelings could still not make the climb from his hole.
I feel guilty that I am able to cope with this and others cannot.
How can we help each other? How can I help people in need by sharing my experience, without belittling their own experiences or acting like I am omniscient about something that I have only been able to hypothesize personal antidotes for?
In the wake of World Mental Health Day, I am feeling very hopeful. A day that didn’t seem to receive much attention became magnified due to a sort of mental health awareness revolution, spearheaded by wildly admired figures such as Simone Biles. The macro-level mental health community is wonderfully promising and will be influential as it continues to gain traction.
But how do I help on a micro-level?
I have a burning sense of obligation to be a part of a community that treats mental health awareness as an everyday topic, yet I don’t feel like I practice it. My friends and I call to check in on each other, sharing our experiences with dating, getting too drunk one night, or getting in an argument with our roommates and other friends over silly things. I can’t say that I’ve ever helped a friend climb out of their hole though.
This may be because I think most people prefer to be private about these things, and I completely understand that.
When I reached out to Owen to join Dead Foot Collective, I vowed to myself to use this platform as a way to hopefully relate to others on the matters of mental health through whatever my experiences may be. So, without further ado, here’s a bit of unsolicited advice for whoever may find themselves reading this. I look at these tips as tools I can go to when the time comes to get out of my hole:
MY NETWORK has probably been the most helpful tool in making sense of my depression. As I mentioned before, my mother has been so heroic during the phases where I am very much in the hole. She was the first person I told about my struggle. She provides understanding and empathy in a time where I feel alone.
I’m a pandemic graduate of 2020, from Auburn University, largely due to the help of my father and other family members.
My father helps me once I have discovered the hope that surrounds whatever obstacle I have had too much time to negatively reflect on, offering tangible life advice that I use to approach the problems clouding my happiness.
My sister and my cousin (who is like a second sister to me), provide the context of how what I’m feeling is relevant. They are both young adults going through many of the same things I am, and they always affirm that my struggle is not unique, it just comes in a special flavor.
My friends have responded to me by knowing when I need space. I usually fling myself into being invested in my friends’ lives and want to provide my undivided attention, but being in the hole doesn’t allow that. They have shown grace and patience by allowing me to work through my issues and love them when I am ready to love them.
Everyone’s network will be different, but the biggest step for me was introducing my network to the hole I often find myself in. The reaction has been largely understanding when for some reason I expected it to be a shocking or uncomfortable discussion.
I think that this brought a majority of the comfort that I feel today… People knowing I am not always okay. I hope that others can find peace by merely introducing their condition to those that they trust will care about them.
The author playing the drums, one of his outlets.
MY OUTLETS have been my second most powerful tool in getting out of (and filling) these holes. Not just participating in my hobbies but being God-damned obsessed with them.
Where hobby becomes passion… That’s the sweet spot.
Music, movies, drumming, running, all have given me so much life in the past few years. It’s not completely unrelated to my network, as all of these endeavors have tight-knit communities and subcultures that are, for the most part, very inclusive. Since these communities are rooted in like-mindedness, it feels like an extension of my network, even if I’m not presenting my problems to these communities like I am with the direct relationships in my network.
It seems like any subsect can bring similar fruits if none of these areas fit your jiffy. Maybe it is just my addictive personality coming to the surface, but Jesus, just being immersed in something so severely that you can distract yourself from reality for a short amount of time every day gives you a breather from whatever you may be going through. Why not take advantage of those windows?
Of course, it’s easy to distract yourself from reality with negative things, and I’m definitely guilty of it more times than not. I think it’s okay to let yourself drift for a little bit at a time, maybe when you feel you’re being lowered into the hole. This is where I find that the vices really can have a stronghold, but it’s just another thing I have to monitor.
MY MEDITATION has been an absolute requirement to recover from being in the hole and managing the depth of the next one I fall into. I find I meditate mostly through running and exercise – having conversations with the entirety of my being through motor skills, but I believe there are many ways to achieve this that are accessible to everyone.
Focusing on your breath, allowing thoughts to pop into your mind and not dwell, and feeling all the parts of your body only by being aware of them is an underrated practice. There are so many ways that this art form has come to fruition on a global, cultural scale that allows for new students whenever we are ready to explore them.
When I’m in the hole, and I use these tools, it helps me to map out my next steps. All three of them allow time for reflection and planning which pull me up to the ascent from the hole.
The conversations I have with my network are sort of a catalyst for this movement. Then my outlets allow me to workshop what I’ve learned and decide what the viable route to ascension is. Meditation makes me focus on the route and start the climb to the surface, as well as look back on my negative experience in a healthy way. I guess these tools are obvious to a lot of us, but I knew about all of them long before I gained control of my depression, I just never took the time to invest myself in them.
I think the key to all of this is investment.
My depression to me is a product of how invested I am in being a human, a global citizen, a son, a brother, a friend, a young professional… They all come with their beauty, but also some ugly truths. However, I have to be invested in all these things in order to stay motivated in life and also fight back against depression when it does come.
The healthiest way I’ve found to cope with it is to invest myself in my people, my passions, and my work. Cyclical depression brought on by a cycle of investment… (Certainly, there’s more to come on this. I don’t have it all figured out)
The cycle allows me to look back on all the holes I’ve fallen into over the years and be more confident as I approach the next one. When I stumble upon another hole, the perspective allows me to coach myself:
“I’ve gotten through this before, I will get through this again.”
Andrew Dendy is a young professional balancing a work-from-home lifestyle with an active lifestyle. He enjoys running, weight training, playing the drums, the outdoors, and the company of friends.
