Grey

The other day I reluctantly rented Side Effects. I say "reluctantly" because I've suffered terrible side effects from various medications and I was truly terrified that the film would put bad ideas in  my head. I think a lot of the "side effects" I've experienced may actually all be psychological in nature. Without spoiling too much about the movie, I wanted to share a quote from it that sort of blew my mind:

Imagine everything you ever wanted shows up one day and calls itself your life. And then, just when you start to believe in it... gone. And suddenly, it gets very hard to imagine a future. That's depression, right?

In August 2004, I thought my life was complete. Moments of infinity happened every day. I was completely comfortable about myself and had a future lain out in front of me. I had fully recognized how wonderful my childhood had been. I was living in the perfect state. I was entering my senior year of high school, ranked number 21 out of almost 700. I had the perfect relationship. The perfect group of friends. Everything in the world was starting to make sense. It felt beautiful.

Then on September 15, 2004, we sold the house.

Now, for a moment, imagine feeling like everything in your life was going to be perfect. Imagine having a plan for what the future held - what you'd wear for senior prom, what college you would go to, who you would marry, and when you would start a family - and having it all combust in front of you one sweaty afternoon in the bedroom you had for 15 years.

Encompassed in walls layered in purple paint from 1989 and surrounded by memories of high school, I was informed by my mother that everything was about to change. I remember telling Samantha on AIM. All she said was "fuck."

I can also remember letting the sadness seep in for a brief amount of time. I can remember sobbing until I felt like I would throw up. Then, I remember sucking it all back in and holding onto it. Never to let it go again.

October 20th, 2004 (10:17 pm)
current mood: optimistic
current song: the strokes

I don't understand why this has to be so sad.

I only cried once this evening, and it was while I was in Sean's arms.

Everything will be okay. I can't stress that enough. Everything will be okay. I promise.

Tomorrow I am going out with my lovelies.

I feel really good.

I lived in denial until we left. October 22. On the car ride to Georgia, I had no thoughts. I couldn't feel anything and I couldn't emote in general. I cried once in a while, but I feel like it was more about longing for the past. Because honestly? I didn't see where the future was headed.

I didn't know anything about Georgia. What would prom be like now? Surely I wouldn't have a date. Why would I even want to go? Where would I go to college? I couldn't just abandon my plans... could I? What's UGA? What's Georgia Tech? Would Sean really be there for me? I had dated my share of "winners" who wanted to have their cake and eat it too. Was he the same way? And why would I want anyone but him? No one could be better than perfect. I didn't want a country family.

Suddenly all my decisions were colored the black that was my prospects in Georgia (family? stability? affordability? scholarship?) and the white that was my past in California (friends? lovers? familiarity?), leaving me just to feel the grey of uncertainty.

And I couldn't imagine a future at all any more. I lost touch with my sensibilities, with my writing talents, and with my social capacities. My life had more and more moments of feeling infinitesimal.

The only solution seemed psychiatry. And a diagnosis that hangs around my neck every day like a relic. And endless amounts of pills that just keep me at zero.

Which makes me wonder. Was this a diagnosable disease? Or is the cure to not being able to imagine a future (nearly ten years ago!) to be to embrace the one I have since built?

Is this depression? or something mimicking it?