Depression and the Journey

There’s no release until I’m a billionaire. There’s no freedom until I’ve saved the human race.

It’s hard to admit that I’m selfish in my depression. As much as I like to think that I care about others, I know that there is a selfish side to my philanthropic dreams. It’s a need to feel worthy, to feel independent, to feel loved. I need billions of dollars to assure my freedom. Don’t ask me why, probably a few million would suffice for a healthy life. It’s that deep, visceral need for personal welfare that creates a want for more money then I could possibly ever spend. Perhaps another side to the coin is that I want the dopamine rush of spending a big lump of cash on something nice. That sweet release of owning something that wasn’t yours before. Can I put it more simply? I want stuff I don’t need. And this messes with my head. Aren’t I a good person? Don’t I want others to have more, feel more, experience life? I think I’m a good person, so where does this greed come from?

I came from an upbringing where material possessions were the least of concerns. In a religious faith that taught me that your gold lies heaven, I never had much want for cars and clothes and beautiful homes. I’ll live simple, I used to tell myself, I’ll provide for my family and that will be enough. The faith wallowed away, I saw things from different perspectives, and now I no longer follow my past beliefs. It’s here that I see a crack in the paint, a place where I can peel away the layers and see what’s really underneath. My ideologies, my morals, my points of reference all used to relate to my faith in god. With that faith shattered, I’m left asking myself constantly who I am, what matters, and what the hell is going on?! It was easy to have an ego when I was a believer, it was all I knew and all I was taught.

I’m not against good morals now, I’m not against being a good person, it’s just that I have to justify those things on an intellectual level now. Fear of god was enough before to be a good person and treat others with respect. It’s a lot different of a process learning about myself and what I want out of life knowing that I am free and responsible for myself. I decide what is right and wrong for myself now, it’s a new thing for me at 26 years old. The last of the residual effects of religion wore away a year ago, when I really had to start thinking about mine and yours and what the worth of anything and anybody really is. For a small amount of time I listened to the dirty billionaires who trash the planet. It was a new thing for me hearing ideas that I used to hate before, and giving them a chance and really listening to their side to the story. And I’ll be completely honest, I saw the elite as having some righteousness to their being. I bought into their ideas for a time, started thinking about how much I wanted what they had.

The need and greed for an expensive lifestyle festered and grew. I became obsessed. I kept reading about their lifestyles, the fabulously rich, and I was hooked. I read books about success, I watched videos about money, everything about my lifestyle involved thinking about how to become dirty, stinking rich. Oh and by the way, too bad so sad for the poor, they just aren’t on the same level and that’s the way life works. I kept working on myself, thinking of how I could become rich. All of this work brought me to the turning point, and the confusion, that I exist in right now. I realized I wasn’t one of the elite.

I’m a nobody. I have bipolar. I have tremendous setbacks and things to overcome that makes even becoming one of the working class a hard achievement. I can’t make billions when I can’t even get a minimum wage job. When this dawned on me I started a new thinking pattern, a lesson in the works if you will, a road I’m on currently. I had to think about the ways I thought about the poor and my attitude of too bad so sad. Because if I was never going to be rich, what did that mean about me? To bad so sad? Life’s a bitch and then you die? That didn’t settle to well in my stomach. I spent all this time thinking about how only certain people mattered, only to realize I was one of the bunch that doesn’t matter. And this is hitting me hard, it doesn’t feel right. Maybe other kids learned this lesson at a younger age in more simple terms, but it’s a lesson I’m learning now after a “factory reset”. Being 26 and having to base my morals on my own reasoning and not religion. I’m learning a lesson that should have been taught in terms other then a fear of the almighty. Complaints about arrested development aside, it’s a weird place to be. I don’t know exactly what I think, and mostly I’m just trusting my heart.

Depression and bipolar are crippling, I struggle with everyday things that should not be a problem. How can I justify being filthy rich when I know what it’s like to be poor and struggling? How can I justify having so much more without helping anybody? Here’s where I’m stuck though. Like the saying “you need money to make money”, I understand that the more successful you are the more you have to share. Creating a business means creating jobs, sharing capital means others can thrive, and money can always be put towards medical and psychological research. I’m not so delusional that I would think that money isn’t necessary in our current western system.

So I wander on lost, thinking about reasons to do this or that. To strive for financial wealth, to just do my best to get by, to become a homeless man on the corner. I don’t know exactly what to do with myself. Which brings about stagnation, a huge cog in the wheel of depression. The only way I navigate through it is thinking with my heart. Do I really want to be rich? Sort of. Do I want to be rich in a way that hurts others? no. Do I want to be at least independent enough not to rely on others? Definitely yes. Do I care about others and think of there worth? Deep, deep, deep down, I think that I do, there’s just a lot of bullshit to cut through to get down to the bottom of it.

Another question I ask myself is do I want to helps others because of my own feelings of worthlessness? Is it really that I care, or is it that I want people to care about me? Do I just want and need love and acceptance. To be honest, I probably do need those things. That need probably does influence my behavior. Is that all it is then? A chemical reaction in my brain that sais I need to feel something, and so I put on a show of philanthropy to meet my own needs? Maybe, I don’t know. Is it okay for others to be happy while I am not? Again I don’t really know, it can change from day to day. Today I feel like only certain people deserve to be happy, and those people being by my own picking. That doesn’t sound right though. Is it just my hurt and pain caused by others that spurs on a hatred that makes me feel people don’t deserve happiness? Is it something sinister and selfish and simple like past traumas affecting how I feel about people? Perhaps. I don’t know. All I know is I’m peeling back layers and finding out more and more. Maybe my problem is that I expect and endpoint, and answer, a final “me”, and maybe that final person is never found. Life is a mystery as they say, maybe I need to learn how to accept that so that I can have some peace and quiet in my head for once.

I don’t know where I was going with this post, or that there is a point to it. Perhaps that complements the idea that there is no final destination, there is only the journey. A struggle of mine with no outcome or response. Simply spending the time sharing my thoughts, hoping that just for a little while I can escape the thoughts in my mind by putting them into words.


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