The Point of Know Return

It's 8:41 PM on Friday, December 3rd, 2010, and I'm still depressed.

It's almost funny in a sitcom sort of way, really. Just imagine me as the mentally unstable, gloomy old neighbor of the show's family. I come to their door again in this episode (and for the fifth time this season) and ask for that same measuring cup back I've been bothering them about returning since the show aired. Our protagonist pauses, lays down a smooth one-liner, and closes the door in my face as the canned laughter sees me out. Oh, that old Mr. Perkins, the audience thinks, what a miserable old fart. The sad thing is that I've created for myself this old fart persona, and I am a good forty-plus years from being old fart eligible.

And what would a strong character be without his good old personal struggles, right? What makes who I've become even more of a character is the fact that I've been hung up in a web spun with the most taught dramatic irony I have ever had the pleasure of being suspended in. Sure, it's true that nobody on this earth knows what the future holds (no, not even Miss Cleo), but I've never worried about my life as much as I have now, for the sheer reason that I'm sure somebody out there knows what's going to come of my current pressing situation. And I'm dying to know.

A good friend of mine (the band Rush) once told me that the point of the journey is not to arrive. Could a corollary to that be that the point of the arrival is the journey itself? In other words, do I want things to be resolved right, right now? The impatient side of me, which is unfortunately just about all of me, would say that yes, there's nothing more that I could want right now but for these circumstances to fix themselves. And even to an extent, that impatient side even recognizes that an adverse end to these circumstances would beat the hell out of hanging suspended over the edge of this chasm. However, there still exists a part of me that can't help but realize what all I've been learning through this experience, and that I still have more to learn before I'm ready to move on. But like an unceasing tide washes away whatever stands in its way regardless of how noble it is, so does my selfish, impatient side do to the part in me wanting to grow.

So what should I do, then? The key to taking on an enemy of considerable force is to have not only a good offense, but a superior defense. This infinitesimal part of me, this little patch of my brain that realizes there's still much for me to learn, needs to grow in order to provide a solid defense. It is unfortunate that depression is an enemy that can never be conquered for good like in the movies. But while I'm still missing what's kept me from having to fight this battle for so long, I have to construct my own defenses out of all I've got right now--myself.

It's 9:07 on Friday, December 3, 2010, and I'm a little less depressed.