It is said that everyone experiences at least two depressive episodes throughout their lifetime. For some, they experience them on anniversaries of events (like a death), or some other significant experience. For others, the episodes occur more often. However, no matter the rate of occurrence, living in one feels like a nightmare. I learned to hide this from others by wearing a mask. Everyone has masks. Most common of these are the masks of the the Humorist, the Martyr, the Control Freak, the Cool Guy, the Bully, the Self-Basher, the Mask of Abandonment. Like myself, people wear these, or any combination of them, to keep their secrets from others. In my case, the secret was my depression.

Admittedly, writing this has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I don’t consider myself to be a good writer. To own up to all the masks, the lies, and deceptions, for a brief essay feels intimidating. To let loved ones and people you’ve never met read your words is terrifying. But this is a necessary part of the process - exposure. I do not expect everyone to understand my words, but if you do, I hope they help you.

Darkness.

The sun is up and shining through the blinds, but not for me, not today. Today I will only see the darkness. My hunger is absent. My only drive has become to survive the day. I don’t want to laugh, I don’t want to talk. My only interest is to retreat into the bottle. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, placing my elbows on my knees and my forehead in the palms of my hands. For the next five minutes, the only sound in the darkness comes from my breath. I stand slowly, knees cracking, and make my way into the bathroom to shower. I leave the lights off so I don’t have to risk a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’m ashamed of the person I would see. Why am I so weak? Where is my self-esteem? After my shower, I force myself to look in the mirror. There is nothing there. Only an empty shell of the man I once was. Behind my eyes is a mind in the form of an endless black sea of large rolling waves full of dark memories and destructive thoughts.

Surviving.

I look at my uniform hanging up in the corner of the closet. It’s meant for a soldier, but today I’ll have to put it on. I struggle with the task as I slowly dress myself. Once dressed, I look down, knowing there is one more thing to do. I must grab my mask so my true identity is not revealed. I own many of these and am an expert with several; however, today, I choose Humor. I go to the mirror and put the mask on, ensuring it’s fit. I make a few small adjustments; now I can turn on the light. This is one thing I do very well. I will wear it throughout the day, but not without a damning drain of energy and a slow suffering. It’s a small sacrifice I make to remain hidden. I will go to work, I will make others laugh and smile, and I will play this role. I will execute my tasks while avoiding any real conversation. As the day progresses the mask begins to increase in weight, the straps begin to strain. The mask will not survive much longer.

I make it home in time. I remove the soldier’s uniform and discard the worn mask on the nightstand. I move to the living room; the familiar spot on the couch is calling for me. I take a seat and sit there in silence and let my mind wonder, no longer having control. I am powerless. Now the destructive thoughts begin to flood my mind.

Why am I like this?

Why is this happening?

Why can’t I control my mind?

I begin to think of my brother who was killed in Afghanistan. The brother I convinced to join the Army with me.

Why did I survive instead of my brother?

Did I kill him?

Have I been able to save anyone?

I close my eyes and can see the memories from my past. I can smell the burning flesh like I’m still there. I can feel the pain. I need to slow it down. My remedy awaits on the top of the fridge. It is my freedom in a bottle. With every swallow comes a sense of numbness that seems to calm the storm. I know it will not stop the pain or the thoughts, but it will allow me to embrace them. It allows the torment, the pain and anguish, the depression to resonate. It allows me to feel everything that I deserve. Sitting on the couch, I take another long swallow and lean my head back in silence, eyes closed, my mind fades to black.

Forward .

Until recently this was my life. I have struggled with depression, PTSD, and alcohol for 10 years. In January and April of 2020, I had some of the worst depressive episodes I’ve ever had. I began to push my family and my fiancé away. However, they were ready for me to admit to myself that I needed to seek help - they stood by me. It was not the terrible ending I thought it would be, but a new beginning and chapter of my life. I disappeared for about 30 days and told everyone I was in a training exercise. This was a lie. This year I self admitted into a treatment program for military and it was the best decision of my life. I was able to learn that you do not have to let any of these things define you. They are challenges. No one is invulnerable to struggles with mental health. I urge anyone reading this, if you have struggles, seek help and learn about your own process. Go to counseling. I found a counselor that I could talk to and I learned practices that are continuing to change my life. My relationship with my fiancé and my family has become stronger than ever before and my conversations with people I love are deeper and genuine, instead of masked by humor and avoidance. I write this knowing there will still be struggles, there will still be pain. But you will learn how to fight now instead of laying down or giving up.

Find your community. Find your purpose. Find your happiness. Find your freedom.