​I started taking medication for my depression when I was in high school. I was in despair and often had extreme periods of sadness. At some point, I met at a McDonalds with a local pastor at whose house I often went to for a Bible study. I’m not sure why I decided to meet with him versus anyone else, but we talked about how down I felt and the thoughts that were in my head. I had great sadness and believed I’d never escape.
 
He spoke with my mom about my condition (with my permission) and I remember she cried and I felt awkward and embarrassed for causing her to feel that way. The pastor suggested I see my family doctor and my mom agreed.
 
My doctor asked me questions about my emotional state and prescribed Zoloft, a drug that can help combat depression. I took it for many months; it made me sleep a lot, but not too much. At some point I stopped taking it, but I don’t remember why. Perhaps I felt better and thought that meant I didn’t need it anymore.
 
In college I once again found myself very depressed and in my junior year the therapist I saw in the counseling center suggested medication. I picked up with Zoloft once more but it didn’t seem as effective as in high school. I was still depressed, and even more so than in my teen years.
 
When I graduated college in 2001 I began to see a psychiatrist and therapist in my hometown when I went to live with my parents. We realized Zoloft wasn’t working and thus began an array of different medications. I can’t even recall which ones I took but I’d guess there were at least six or eight. I’d take them for six weeks or so and if they weren’t helping my psychiatrist would either change the dosage or find a new medication.
 
With these medications came a myriad of side effects: too much sleep, too little sleep, weight gain, itchiness, decreased sex drive, and so on. Some medications compensated for the side effects of the other medications. I hated how they made me feel.
 
I loathed that I would have to be on medication for what I imagined would be the rest of my life. I wrote in my journal about how medications were a scam created by pharmaceutical companies to make money. I believed they stifled my creativity and emotions. I didn’t want to take them, but I wanted free of my depression even more.

Eventually, I found medications that helped with my depression, at least enough to keep me stable. Still, things weren’t quite right. I still had anxiety (which predates my depression) and the sadness would still hang around. It became exacerbated by environmental situations such as my job, the weather, and relationships.

Since 2011 my medications have been stable: Celexa and Lamictal (or their generic equivalents). I take them every morning and will likely do so for the rest of my life. Some people find a reliance on medication to be abhorrent. Yet there are people who take medications for their blood pressure or diabetes every day with no criticism. My medications are no different just because they’re for my brain.

Should I go off my medication at some point? I suppose I could try (with my doctor's help), but things are going okay in my life, so I’d like to keep the status quo.

There are days I forget to take them—usually a handful of times a year—and it hits me later in the day. Something usually feels a bit off. And a part of me hates that some tiny pills can have that much control over me. But after being on meds for about 20 years I’ve come to a point of acceptance. These are what keep me going and keep me alive. It’s the way it is.

Medications aren’t for everyone and going on or off of them is something that should be part of a discussion with a doctor or psychiatrist. Yet, if it weren’t for my medication it's quite possible I’d be dead. I remember what life was like without them and it was dark and painful. I’m happy to be a slave to my medication. We don't know the long-term effects of a lifetime of anti-depressant or anti-anxiety use. But the way I see it, I’ve had a much longer life than I may have otherwise had I not been on the medications. That may sound dark to some, but it’s something I truly believe.

So even if my brain turns to mush when I’m sixty, I’m okay with that. My meds have helped me live a better life and I have no shame in being a slave to the little pills I take each morning.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

From the ages of 21 to 23, I ran a website that focused on entertainment, in particular, independent music. As part of the website, I wrote a column and on occasion published some poetry. Like much of what we write in our teens and early twenties, it’s embarrassing to look back upon. There were emotions behind the words but they didn’t express what I wanted them to. It was as though my writing was the same as a young teen going through puberty: the body wants to reach fruition, but the shape sometimes trips over itself. The feet are too big, the shoulders too small, or the legs gangly compared to the rest of the body.
 
Yet the writing saved my life in my early twenties. It was the only way I knew to get my emotions out. It was imperfect but it was all I had. On occasion, my bipolar, medication-addled mind would produce a phrase or paragraph that made sense. The words expressed how I felt in an adequate way. There were words that could affect people. I had readers of my column tell me as much. A woman fell in love with me through my words. It was a horrible relationship but it showed me the power words can have.

Over the years I’ve written as a means to express myself and help others. I’ve tried to get pieces published, but often to little success. There are a lot of writers vying for a few slim spaces. On occasion, something gets posted on a website. I’ve done zines and blogs, but it often seems the only people reading are my friends. And while I appreciate that my words are helpful to them, whatever art we’re creating we all hope will help a wider audience than those closest to us.

I’ve written many books that will likely never see the light of day. In the future, I’ll work on others. They’re memoir or music writing, or a combination of both. I don’t feel so compelled to share them anymore. I’ve learned to write simply for me.

I recently found myself in a bad place in my head. I was alone in my apartment and I didn’t want to bother anyone at midnight with my disposition. I had many bad avenues my thoughts were going down. I’ll spare you the details.

I thought about packing a bag and checking myself into the hospital. Instead, I wrote. And wrote. All my fears and worries and anxieties. It didn’t stop for over an hour and at the end, I had a mess of incoherent thoughts. But I realized I was doing the same thing I had done when I was 20. I wrote my way through my saddest, loneliest moments to make sense of who I am and what’s going on in my mind.

At the end of my time writing, I had no energy. But I felt a bit better. And I knew writing had saved me once again, as it always has.

Whatever you have that gets you through your dark times—writing, playing music, knitting or some other creative art—continue to nurture it. Respect it. Don’t let it die. Because even if you’re only doing it for yourself, as I do now with my writing, it may save your life as writing has done for me.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

“Just get out there.”

“Meet people.”

​“Be social.”
 
If you’re a depressed or lonely person, I’m sure you’ve heard these kinds of statements. It sounds simple enough. But for those in the depths of loneliness or suffering from mental illness, acting on such statements seems like an insurmountable challenge.
 
On the face of it, socializing with others sounds like a good suggestion. It can (and most often does) make us feel better to interact with others. If we are feeling down, socialization can help us take our minds off of whatever is bothering us at the time.
 
Yet, with the depressed person, it seems as though the feeling of escape from one’s problems doesn’t come with much relief afterward. When the conversation ends and both parties go their own way, thoughts of worthlessness and self-doubt can return.
 
A study by the University of Michigan revealed that people with depression don’t get as much long-term comfort from social interactions as those who aren’t depressed.
 
So, socialization is important! It’s part of who we are as human beings. And it’s something we should include in our lives for better mental health.
 
But if it’s so hard for depressed people to get together with others, how can one make it easier for one’s self?
 
What’s key to feeling comfortable with socialization and having it create joy in your life is receiving treatment. This can take many different forms including medication, therapy, or positive psychology techniques.
 
Treatment is critical when one is handling mental health issues. As one would seek physical therapy for back issues, mental health treatment can lead to improvements in mood. By taking medication and going to therapy, I’ve learned to learn to be more comfortable with social settings. It’s not easy in large group settings, but it has gotten better over the years.
 
Thanks to the time and work I’ve put in, I am now in a place where socialization is more meaningful and appreciated. And in that way, my times of socialization have helped me with the times that depression affected me. Those connections get me in tune with that part of me that needs to be around my peers and to feel accepted by part of a group. It’s a lot of effort but one that has helped me greatly in dealing with my depression.

There are some days I struggle with my hypocrisy. I try not to think about it too much, if at all, because it gets under my skin. I tell others to hang on when they’re feeling down in their lives. I want people to keep on living when they’re feeling suicidal and depressed.
 
Yet, the fact of the matter is that I don’t always want to keep on living. There are often times—usually once a month or so—when I want to throw in the towel and end it all. It’s a thought and sometimes it’s fleeting—gone in a minute. But I feel overwhelmed, tired, and trapped by responsibilities I don’t want such as work I don’t enjoy. Sometimes what I need to accomplish in a day—chores, errands, projects—seems too much. I’m unable to live in the moment and take pleasure in what I have.
 
I then think about the hypocrisy involved with that. There is a light that shines in us and I know that. To extinguish that light is tragic, as things can often turn around and get better. I’ve felt that in my own life.
 
Depression is a slog, though. It’s asking whether the glass is half-empty or half-full. Sometimes I look at it as a life-long struggle that never ends and that discourages me. I think about how depression will always be there and how much it tires me.

There’s another part of me, though, that recognizes the depression goes away. That my default state isn’t sadness, but kindness and helpfulness. Those times of feeling down are bumps along the way.

I think about people whom I know who seem mentally strong but at the same time hide their suicidal feelings. Sometimes they give in to them.. I never want to be that person. Past experiences have shown me I want to live when given the chance. Yet suicidal thoughts hang there, on the periphery and stare me down as I tell others, “Keep going.”

I know that for many people, their depression is fleeting. A message of encouragement is what they need in their darker hours. So, every little bit of help I can give to others is great. But it doesn’t mean I don’t struggle. And it feels hypocritical to tell others to keep going when I want to give in.
 
Regardless of what happens to me, I figure if I can get one person through a mentally rough patch, it’s worth spreading the word of staying with us. We need you, even if I may not always feel that way about myself. It doesn’t change that fact that you’re good and wanted and loved by so many others. And I know I am, too. If only that could always be enough.

​I’ve learned a lot about depression in the past twenty years. There are many lessons it has taught me, but here are a few things that I wish someone had told me about this particular mental health issue.
 
1. Depression won’t ever go away but you can manage it
There was a time in high school I thought there would be a cure to my depression. Or it would, at some point, go away. Later, after college, I received a diagnosis of bipolar II disorder. Yet even then I didn’t comprehend that depression would be staying with me for the rest of my life. I fought against that notion and didn’t want to think it was true, but over time came to accept it as fact. Through medication, therapy, and self-care I’ve learned that it is manageable and I can lead a healthy, productive life.
 
2. Depression takes many different forms
From when I first began to experience depression in my early teens I thought it meant sadness. It was a sadness that wasn’t always rational, but a sadness nonetheless. Over the years, though, my depression still exists in that form on occasion but more often than not it’s about existential depression. It’s the feeling of loss of direction that occurred because of giving up my faith in god many years ago. That aimlessness kept me frustrated and discouraged for a long time. It’s only recently that I’ve found encouragement in speaking to others about my mental health struggles.

3. There are things you can learn about yourself through your experiences with depression
I’m surprised with how well I’ve managed my depression over the years. Sure, there have been times I’ve been suicidal or been in the hospital, but those are blips on the radar. I’ve far more often had times which have found me more stable. I’ve seen and been through a lot of shit and am still here. To me that shows some great mental and emotional strength. I’ve discovered a sense of empathy for others who experience mental health issues. Finally, through writing and speaking on mental health I’ve learned that there’s a creative side of myself I didn’t always think I possessed. And it’s one of which I can be proud.

4. Because you’re depressed it doesn’t mean you can’t accomplish things
Depression doesn’t mean you can’t do great things with your life. Sure, you may have to adjust at times. But even people with some of the most severe depression—as long as they’re treating it—can lead successful lives they can be proud of. I’ve seen people in the throes of sadness create wonderful art or write beautiful stories or even be excellent parents to their children. Depression doesn’t have to relegate you to a world of nothingness. It can be hard but depression doesn’t equal not accomplishing goals.

Being depressed sucks all around, but there is one aspect of it that I despise more than any other: irritability. With all other aspects of depression I am the only one who feels bad. Yes, it can affect others when they see me feeling sad or withdrawn, but it’s not a feeling of being under attack. It’s a passive feeling.
 
Yet my irritability affects not only me but also the individuals around me because I often lash out at them over minor things. I grow frustrated when things don’t go my way or aren’t how I planned them to be. For example, on a recent Sunday I wanted to do my laundry and then go to the public library and work on some writing. But my partner and a family member asked me to come to brunch with them. We discussed this idea earlier in the week but I hadn’t heard anything so I assumed the plan wasn’t happening. Based on that assumption I came up with another idea of what I was to do with my day. I knew I had agreed earlier to do the brunch but the change in plans left me irritable.
 
As I rode the bus to meet my partner and her family member, I grew annoyed and frustrated. Beneath that, though, was a level of concern: would I have the opportunity to do my laundry? I wanted to work on my writing because I set a deadline for myself for edits on a book I’m working on. But these were both self-imposed deadlines. There was nothing wrong if I did these things in the time schedule I had given myself. The world would not end, no one would find themselves disappointed.
 
I tried to walk myself through this line of thought to calm myself down. I wanted to get to the point where I wouldn’t find myself annoyed at my girlfriend or her family member. This time I was able to do so, although it did leave me depressed. While I exchanged one emotion for another, I was able to get my laundry done and I still have time to finish the writing. My irritability didn’t help anything—it didn’t allow me to be more productive or make anyone happy.

Irritability is still something I struggle with, more than anything else with my depression. It’s a side effect rarely discussed in mental health circles. But it’s something I want to focus on more as I move along in my mental health journey. I wish to do so both for myself and the family, co-workers, and friends who are on the end of my occasional foul mood. 

I've rarely had a job I enjoy. Sad to say, but my favorite job was the one I had when I was 17 and 18. I worked in a record store by myself, got to do whatever I wanted (usually my homework), and listen to whatever music I cared to. This was in the golden age of CDs in the mid-'90s and business wasn't bad. My friends came by and spoke with me and I met some cool people, too. Yet the things I liked about that job then wouldn't be what I want today.
 
I find that my mental health often suffers at a job. For most of my life, I've had a difficult time with work. I've found it makes me depressed to have a job I don't enjoy. It weighs upon me to do mindless work. I'm most productive and successful when I'm on my own. I also work best when I do something that gives me meaning. It's taken me a long time (much longer than I would have preferred) to realize what I desire to do is to help others dealing with mental health issues. I want to do this through writing and speaking on my issues with mental health.
 
It's important that we do things that make us happy in our lives. I know it's not always possible that our work is in our dream field. Life has complications: health issues, family concerns, or geographical impediments. (If you want to be an actor but are stuck living in Alaska, it's hard to achieve that dream of the silver screen).
 
Yet, if I've learned much of anything from suicide attempts and mental illness, it's that life is short. Far too short. So I've been willing to set aside what may have been a "traditional" life to achieve my goals as they come to me. Attempting to find happiness and meaning is such an important desire. So much so that I was happy to forego a typical career, stability, and a regular relationship in the hopes I could find them.
 
It's hard for me to rest if it means that I am not close to my career goals. It means that every minute I'm at a job that doesn't bring me satisfaction is another moment I'm away from something that provides me with some meaning.
 
It's not always easy to find the energy to take up the struggle to meet my goals. Some days I would rather watch Netflix and sleep. But I keep pushing on because I yearn for something where I come away from my work day feeling happy and upbeat about what I've done. Which, in my case, means making a difference in the lives of others.

My hope is that if you are not doing work you enjoy, you will find ways to get to a place where you can. Sacrifices, moves, and time spent trying out a myriad of possibilities are worth it when you find the thing that makes your heart beat a little faster. They're worth it when you find happiness knowing that you're doing work that brings you meaning.

​My actions are my only true belongings.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
 
In the past two entries I’ve explored things we can’t change: the way life works (illness, age, death) and other people and things. So where does that leave us? The last remembrance tells us that all we can control are our own actions.

Our response to life is the only thing we own. It’s the only thing we take with us everywhere we go at all times. Furthermore, our actions speak for us. How we act is what we fall back upon. It says who we are and what’s important to us.
 
What this remembrance means to me is that I have control over my actions. I can make that decision on how to respond to the things that happen to me. I wish I had control over more things, especially when life doesn’t seem fair.
 
There are often arrayed against us a plethora of cultural and personal barriers: racism, sexism, homophobia, mental illness, physical disability, etc. And they’re not fair. Yet, our response to them is all we can control. Part of that means we can choose to act by fighting against the systems and people that hold us back.
 
Our attitude can go a long way to determining how we view life and in turn our mental health. I acknowledge that even though we control our actions, it’s not always easy to be positive and optimistic. Life can suck and it’s up to us to get to the point with our mental health where it’s possible to see this remembrance as do-able.

It hasn’t always been simple for me to acknowledge that I have any control over my life. Often I have to fight against feeling helpless and hopeless. This happens especially when there are decisions to be made by others and I’m left waiting on their actions. But if I can confront and work on my mental illness, I find the remembrance that I only have control over my behavior to be a reasonable one to address.

Attempting to take on my own mental health and deal with it is an action in itself. It’s an action that says I’m trying and shows what I’m made of. This is a consequence that I’m willing to accept. 

​All that is dear to me and everyone I love are the nature to change.
There is no way to keep from being separated from them.
 
The remembrances of the Buddha shift with the fourth statement. They’re not facts of human existence (aging, illness, death), but rather an acknowledgement of the outward changes in our environment. With this statement we move away from the self and to speak of others.
 
I’m pretty good with accepting getting older, sicker, and dying. But it’s change with others and my situation that has often caused me the most trouble. Sudden, dramatic changes can throw me for a loop. The end of a relationship can especially do this. When my girlfriend dumped me in 2011 it hit me hard, especially considering we had only been going out for five months. So much so that I tried to kill myself. Looking back now I find it amazing this was my reaction, but I’ve learned that losing close connections to others is a triggering experience for me.
 
Nowadays I remind myself that when change occurs, it’s a matter of how the world works. I don’t always like it, but what can I do to stop it? Others’ actions caused change in my life that has disappointed and scared me. Just the same, I’m sure I’ve caused change in their lives that has made them uncomfortable.
 
But if I take a step back and look at the full scope of my life, I see that disruption and change are the nature of my existence. People move, you get laid off from a job, pets die. I’ve learned now that the fact of the matter is that most of your relationships will end, until there’s one that doesn’t. The closeness we have with our family and friends may change as we move and grow in our lives. These are inevitable. Look at not only your life, but the lives of others you know. No doubt major changes have occurred with all them.

It’s a daily struggle to accept that things don’t stay the same. With each new thought of frustration about things out of our control, we have to take up that struggle once again to come to some tolerance of our situation. Life isn’t always out of our hands, though. We do have a way to handle these frustrating experiences when they occur. The final remembrance of the Buddha has helped me a great deal and I’ll explore that in the next post.

I am of the nature to grow old.
There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health.
There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die.
There is no way to escape death.

The first three remembrances of the Buddha come off as pretty big bummers. You get old, you get sick, and you die. I brought up the remembrances to some family members and they stared at me in disbelief. There was a long pause and then one of them said, "Wow. That is really depressing." I understood why they might think that, but since I discovered them years ago, I have come to find them freeing.

A certain level of acceptance is necessary to find peace with these first three remembrances. But let's face it: we can all agree we're going to age, become ill, and die, right? That's the nature of this life and there's no way around that. Once I learned that that was the way of things, I knew there was no reason to fight it. And I saw how much unhappiness arose not only in me, but others, when we can't be the young healthy people we desire.
 
I've come to peace that this is how my life is going to go. Does it mean that I like getting older, ill, or the thought that my loved ones (and I myself) will someday die? Not really. But what can I do about it? I can have empathy for those experiencing times of illness or who are going through the death of a loved one. And I can listen and love them when they're frustrated that the strength of their youth has gone from them.

Once there's an acknowledgment of the way life works (aging, illness, death) we can turn to accepting them. That acceptance is a daily struggle. It requires constant patience (which is one of my weak traits). But what does fighting against these constants in life get us? It can often cause us sadness, despair, and frustration, which doesn't help things.

I will be the first to acknowledge this isn't easy to accept. And that it comes off as a major downer. But I can also tell you that learning to accept that life operates this way has brought me a great deal of patience and humility.
 
It's also helped me avoid situations that might otherwise exasperate my depression and anxiety. There are times I’ve fallen ill with the flu or an injury from being physically active. Those situations leave me wondering if I’m at the beginning of some greater, more serious illness. It also leads me to sadness at not being able to do everything I want to do. Yet, when I reflect on the remembrances, I acknowledge that such events are a given in life. There’s nothing I can do but accept it and adjust my behavior accordingly.
 
So, I've addressed some of the bigger forces at work in our world—things that have been upon us since the dawn of humankind. But what about the nature of other humans? How do we deal with them and how freaking annoying they can be? That's material for the next blog post.

​I’m not a Buddhist and have no intention of becoming one, but do appreciate many of the teachings and have found them useful. The one I return to daily is something called the Five Remembrances of the Buddha. There are many translations of it, but the one I like is by Thích Nhất Hạnh, a Buddhist monk:

I am of the nature to grow old.
There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health.
There is no way to escape ill health.
 
I am of the nature to die.
There is no way to escape death.
 
All that is dear to me and everyone I love are the nature to change.
There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

I shared these with some people recently and they found them to be very depressing. I can see how one might draw that conclusion. Looked at from a certain perspective it appears to be saying that life is a big bummer and then you die. Nothing is going to stay the same. Everyone and everything is going to change. Sounds shitty, doesn’t it?

Yet, I find that the Five Remembrances have cut down on my anxiety. I need facts in my life—foundational ideas that cannot change. I need to be able to know there’s something I can rely on. I’ve thought about these five things and realized that they are true and unchangeable. They will always be there. And thus, they’re something I can believe in.
 
The Five Remembrances also encourage me to live in the moment and get out of my head. And they’re important (and confusing) enough to be worthy of exploration in future posts. 

​On occasion I fear a relapse into depression. Other times I find myself in the depths of despair. The best thing I can do to help me then is to remind myself that whatever I’m feeling, it’s happened before and I survived.
 
I’ve worked horrible jobs that I hated and where management was atrocious, so I know that should work get bad I can get through that. I often struggle with impatience. But I've found it’s helpful to remember that there were occasions where time took. I wanted out of my situation badly enough that I made the necessary plans to escape and did so. Thus, I am pretty sure I can do it again.
 
Even with new situations, such as going to a mental hospital, there’s a first time with that. I had never been through that. But I reminded myself there had been times before where I felt as despondent as I did then. I also knew to rely on those around me, such as my therapist and psychiatrist, for support. With their help I was able to survive that situation and now I know it’s possible to get through a hospitalization.
 
I also find some comfort in seeing how others have made it through difficult times and know that I, too, am capable of making it. I may not always feel I am able to do great things. Yet my success in other areas shows me that I have the knowledge and understanding to do something as well as those around me. I try and take hope in that.
 
Still, the more years I have behind me, the more experiences I have. I also see that with some planning and help from those around me, whatever is happening, I can get through it. 

​Feeling depressed and lonely is a difficult place to be. Loneliness, especially, is a solitary trial, something that alienates us from others. We see those around us who appear happy and think, “What is wrong with me that I can’t be like them?”


It can bring some relief, though, to remember that I’m not alone in these struggles. And it’s not only friends or co-workers who deal with these feelings of loneliness or great sadness. Successful individuals, too, are trying to get by with these emotions. While I’m not happy others are suffering, knowing that there is a wide range of people dealing with what I’m undergoing can make me feel not quite as bad. I can say to myself, “If they’re dealing with this and achieving some of their goals, perhaps that’s possible for me, too. There’s no logical reason why that shouldn’t happen.”
 
But this also works the other way. When friends and family are working through issues of melancholy or feeling disconnected, we can support one another. Even if we’re both not feeling well, there can be attempts to hold one another accountable to do the things we need to do to work toward getting better. In the same way, having gone through difficult times and emerging on the other side means we can help those who need it.

For years (in fact, most of my teens and twenties) I never thought I’d emerge from the dark cave of depression in which I found myself. And yet, after a lot of therapy, medications, writing, and so many other attempts at mental wellness, I’ve found some calm (for the most part). And now I want to use that to help others and remind them that it is possible to get through unwanted times of emotional pressure. Whatever you’re going through, and no matter how bad it feels, other people have been there. We want to do our best to remind you you’re not alone and we’re here to help. 

Once someone gets to a point of sharing about their mental health, others can assume, “Well, they’ve got it all together. They’re on top of things.” That couldn’t be further from the truth. In my case, I am stabilized enough to share my experiences with others, but I'm not to a place where I no longer suffer from mental illness.

I am diagnosed with bipolar II and the symptoms associated with that are fairly well under control. I’ve also made a great deal of progress on my anxiety and self-confidence. They’re miles above where they once stood and allow me to function well, without allowing doubts about my self-worth.

But here are the things with which I still struggle:

1. Depression
I get depressed. This is usually related to feeling stuck and bored with what is going on around me. I’m often impatient about the changes I want in my life. When they don’t happen it leaves me disappointed. A lot of my depression is about that disconnect between where I am and what I want my life to be like. This primarily means I want to be in a situation where I can speak and write about mental health. I’m working on changing that.

2. Existential depression
This article pretty well describes that situation. But to summarize, I have, for much of my life, felt like I don’t know what it is I’m here for. This can often lead to feelings of worthlessness and pointlessness with my existence. This is slowly changing as I find that speaking out about mental health has helped me find purpose. But I still have my doubts.

3. Suicidal ideation
I’ve written about suicidal ideation for an article at Medium. This can be a real tough one to handle. When I am stuck I revert back to feeling as though suicide is a proper way out. But I’ve seen time and again it’s not.

So, what about you? If you’ve made improvements in your life, what are you still working on?

To be lonely doesn’t always mean you’ll feel depressed and vice versa. There have been times where I felt lonely, but only experienced a general sadness. Sad at my condition, sad at what I thought was my inability to make friends, and sad that I wasn’t a better person—one who could make friends. Yet, those feelings didn’t necessarily lead to depression.
 
There were other times where I was lonely and depressed. But in those situations, the depression was there first. I often didn’t want to be social with others for whatever self-defeating reasons I had. It may be I didn’t think I was good enough for others to want to spend time with me. Or it may have been I was anxious that I would say something that would make me look dumb around others.
 
Being depressed sapped me of the energy to get outside of my loneliness and make connections. This caused me to become even more lonely, and it acted as a feedback loop, a never-ending cycle from which I couldn’t escape.
 
If loneliness persists for enough time, it can lead to depression for many individuals. So, if one is feeling lonely, it’s important to reach out to others and build those connections before depression comes about. It’s also another reason for us to reach out to our neighbors, friends, and family, who may be lonely. In doing so we can stem the depression that may come about due to extended periods of loneliness.

So how does one get out of loneliness if they’re depressed? I’ll cover that in my next post.