Do you have “feelings of despondency and dejection?” Do you, like Sisyphus, feel as though you’re eternally pushing a rock up a hill during the day, only to have it roll back down at night?  Do you, like Tantalus, stand knee deep in water with  beautiful fruit filled branches of a tree over head, and yet,  you cannot eat or drink because whenever you want to drink the water or eat the fruit, the water and fruit back away from you, and are just out of reach? Do you think references to classical Greek mythology are meaningless in our “modern times?”

If so, you are depressed, either cursed by the gods or cursed by life itself.  Articles on the internet  will tell you that there are from ten to thirty identifiable symptoms of depression. You can’t sleep; you sleep too much.  You can’t eat; you eat too much. You get fat; you get skinny. You can’t focus; you focus too much. You have too much love; you have unrequited love. You have thoughts about suicide, you worry about the death of others  etc… etc… etc….

The number of identifiable symptoms of depression is mind-boggling.  I’m batting over .500 on the one through ten scale and closer t0 .750 on the one through thirty scale. These are Baseball Hall of Fame numbers. However, I think in reality; the identification of depression is pretty simple. One morning, or middle of the night, or middle of the day, or before you junk food binge, starve yourself, work out excessively, fail to work out at all, feel lonely, feel crowded, go to work with an overly positive attitude, realize work sucks, feel unrequited love from a person of choice, feel excessive love from a person not of choice, want to kill yourself,  believe your life situation of being totally fucked is a test from God or that God hates you.  If this describes you then man or woman up:  gay, straight or transgender, stand in front of the God of the mirrors, look into him or her and ask yourself, “Am I out of my fuckin mind?”

If your answer is that you are “out of your fuckin mind,” welcome to life and depression.  If your answer is “it’s all cool, I got it; it’s under control;” welcome to life and depression. Both states are delusional, of course.   However, at least, delusion  keeps people moving in some direction, usually meaningless, but not frozen in one spot (another sign of depression) living like an ice sculpture at a wedding working on a meltdown during hor d’oeurves.

Obviously, I am either depressed or not depressed.   For example, some days I have junk food binges: twinkies, pop tarts, cookies, and other days, I eat healthy foods: sauteed vegetables, turkey, chicken. Some days I feel lonely like I have no friends.  Other days  I feel crowded, boxed in: like I have too many friends.  Somedays I feel loved;  other days I feel unloved and even wonder how anyone could love me.  Here’s the problem I see with the above.  Do the reconciliation of opposites in the identifiable symptoms of Depression cancel each other out?  If they do cancel each other out,  is a person less depressed than he or she thought or is a person depressed the same amount with less symptoms with which to deal.

I awoke from an excessively long period of sleep (over twelve hours not alcohol or illegal drug induced). The sleep was restless-both signs of depression.  I watched excessive television – a sign of depression.  I hated life- a sign of depression. I saw life as meaningless -a sign of depression. I focused on death including my own -two signs of depression.

The entire depression related to death concept fascinates me.  Death fascinates me.  I’ve read a lot of books on war in different eras, and have concluded that man is a killer.   Killing others kind of has a tag you’re it meaning.  Alleged terrorists kill us, and we kill them back. I’m not saying we shouldn’t kill them back; in my mind, we should.  I want our side to kill them better and faster than they kill us.  People often ask when will it all stop; the answer is, it won’t.  Fascinating in its simplicity, right.

When this concept is transferred to suicide, it strikes me that a man has become his own enemy.  Maybe he just wakes up every morning and asks himself about life, “Is this all there is?” I’ve often asked myself that question, “Is this all there is?” You know if you’ve read some of my earlier posts that I’ve been on the “edge of life and death” before.  I’m not there now, but it gives me a perspective about the choice.

We often tell our children untruths like “you can be whatever you want in life.” Life is full of “game changers.”  Well, what if one of those “game changers”  is depression driven suicide?  What if someone asks him or herself, “Is this all there is?”and, the answer is “Yes.”  He or she then decides he doesn’t want life anymore and jumps twenty- four floors to death.  I see the exercise of self -determination.

I often hear people say suicide is the most selfish act a person can do.  To me the most selfish act a person can do is force a person to live who wants to die whatever the cause of the desire to die.

For comparison, let’s imagine a nursing home where once proud, dignified people load their diapers full of shit a couple of times a day and stink horribly. They are depressed because they are aware enough to know this is not a way they choose to live. They don’t want an aide cleaning their shit, wiping their asses and changing their diapers.  They recognize “this is all there is” and they all want out.

They pull together to create a suicide bomber’s squad.  They send a dirty diapered representative to speak to the top brass of the military.  It’s discussed; it’s decided it’s a go.  Each man or woman can choose to join the Diaper Squad.  Air Force personnel roll plastic tarps to cover the floor of the transport to spray the transport plane to clean more it easily when the strike is complete.  All of the men and women who have chosen this fate are checked to ensure they’re loaded properly after they board the plane.  A suicide bomber’s vest is strapped to each and a trigger is set so when the man or woman hits the ground they explode. They’re diapers are smelled to ensure they’re disgusting and full. The plane takes off.

At the appropriate height and over the appropriate target, the people are shoved out the transport doors no parachutes, screaming, ” God Bless America.” To be accepted into this mission each  suicide bomber had to take a political correctness course, thus no “Death to Isis” permitted. The transport crew watching from above sees bombs exploding below. The ISIS troops watched the bombs if they didn’t have shit in their eyes.

Crazy,  depressed, suicidal heroes, right?






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