The Gift of Depression

Today is one of those days. A day where the world looks and feels black and bleak. I got out of bed at about 1030am, ate breakfast in front of the computer, then parked myself on the couch for the rest of the day. Nothing accomplished and I, for the first time this year, found my mind wandering to the thought of "I wish I were dead." This thought popped into my head a couple of times as I was lying on the sofa staring out into space.

But this depressive day has been beneficial in that it has allowed me, now, at 4pm, to realize that if not for the bad days, the down and painfully dark days, that good days, of which I have had a bunch lately, would mean nothing. I am grateful in a strange way to have this mood disorder because it makes me cherish the days I go to the gym, read a good book, watch an insightful movie, or go to a productive and welcoming twelve step meeting.

Without the bad the good is meaningless. If my sports teams won every game they played I wouldn't have any idea how nice it is to win championships vicariously. If every day the sun was shining and I felt great then "great" would soon become "average", and maybe even "dull."

My diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder and that means that along with a mood disorder (of which mine is depression) I also hear voices. I'm still working on finding something positive to latch on to with the auditory hallucinations, but I'm sure it's there.