Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Janet Jackson once said, “There’s nothing more depressing than having everything, and still feeling sad.” No truer words to me, right now, have been spoken. To me, I think I have everything. I have a great job that I plan on turning into a career, I have a place to live; get to drive a brand new car every year. Of course I’m single right now, but I’m dealing with that; it’s not as though that is getting to me like it used to. However, I still feel sad. The bad part is, I have no idea why. I do know that I suffer from depression and I have been battling it for 17 years, but it seems as of late, I get into a funk. I get into this mode where all I want to do is cry (if I could, but I’m a firm believer that men don’t cry so I won’t allow myself to) eat ice cream and sleep. I’m good if not great at one thing though. I’m great at pretending some things don’t exist, or if I do acknowledge them, I am great at pretending that they don’t bother me. At least until something like this happens. I guess it forces me not to live in the fantasy world that I’ve created for myself. The mystical, magical place where everything is rainbows and butterflies. If of course something negative does happen in my realm, it is not that big of a deal. It’s just a drizzle in the land instead of a flash flood or heavy thunderstorm. Maybe I’m forcing myself to come back to reality and the only way to do so is to become depressed. Or whatever, I don’t know. I do know that I don’t like feeling like this. I used to go to therapy, but it didn’t help. For one, I didn’t particularly care for my therapist. Two, she bullcrapped her way through our sessions so we never got a chance to get to the root of the problem. Lastly, when I was feeling like this, it was never during our sessions, so she couldn’t see firsthand how I would be.

I believe that I’m a manic depressant. The days that I were to go see her, I would manic and displaying the happy energetic DeMarcus. She never got to see the DeMarcus that crashed and had to push himself to get out of bed. She never saw the one that walked around frowning or feeling inferior, and withdrew himself from people. She didn’t meet the insecure, just want approval and had to be liked person that I am 85% of the time. I’ve often thought about going back to therapy. I thought, “Well maybe a different therapist can actually help.” To be honest, I don’t know if I actually want help. Maybe that’s the reason why I haven’t seen another therapist. Do I like to wallow in self-pity? Do I like the hopelessness? The despair? What the hell kind of life is that? No. I can’t. This is a feeling that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and that’s only because it doesn’t hurt enough. (Right, I am not above wishing negativity or harm on others.) Right now, I have no idea what the hell is going on with me. Like I said, I have a lot to be happy / grateful for, so why do I feel so sad? What is not being fulfilled to the point that I’m almost debilitated? This just has me wondering… Whiskey Tango Foxtroxt or WTF?