Bipolar Me

“Depression isn’t real. You feel sad, you move on. You will always be depressed if your life is depressing. Change it.”

Now, before you jump all over me, let me say that I never said that. It’s a tweet from Andrew Tate, who’s back in the news lately, because he’s had some problems owing to bad behavior. And when I say bad behavior, I mean it’s led to criminal and civil charges in the U.S, Romania, Florida, and the U.K. Many of these were related to rape, human trafficking, online harassment, organized crime aimed at sexually exploiting women, tax evasion, sex with a minor, money laundering, and trying to influence witnesses. His presence in the Twitterverse (X-verse?) has promoted pimping and violence against women, as well as general misogyny. He’s an attention whore, a conspiracy theorist, and a walking, talking example of toxic masculinity.

But I’m here today to discuss his expressed opinions on depression.

The quote caused quite a stir and was immediately challenged.

Obviously, there are a few things wrong with Tate’s opinions. First is the notion that depression isn’t real. It’s merely being sad. To quote Hemingway, “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

The millions of us with major depressive disorder and bipolar depression would love it if our disorder was merely sadness. If we could just move on. If we could only change our lives by willing it. Kick depression out of our heads, as we should be able to, according to Tate, a former kickboxer.

Then Tate threw more fuel on the fire. He tweeted “MY DEPRESSION INBOX. Is hilarious. Full of crybabys. . . .”

Admittedly, many depressed people cry. But that doesn’t make us crybabies. Babies stop crying when their needs are met. People in the throes of depression don’t know if their need for, if not happiness, at least not-despair, will ever be met.

When I first became clinically depressed I was a child and knew nothing about the condition. But I knew I was profoundly troubled. I assumed that if I waited long enough, I would come through the other side, and the depression would lift by itself at some point—or it wouldn’t. Being undiagnosed and unmedicated, all I could do was wait for that to happen.

Now older and wiser (and diagnosed and medicated), I know some things I can do to shorten that time until the depression lifts. I can take my medications. I can practice self-care. I can call my therapist. I can turn to my husband. Now I know—really know and understand—that my depression isn’t forever, even if my disorder is. But that doesn’t mean depression isn’t real. It doesn’t mean that I can snap my fingers and change it.

I do know that, if I have to, I can push through depression instead of waiting for it to ease up on its own. Taking my meds is one way I do that. Meeting my self-imposed blogging deadlines is another. Paying the mortgage and power bill, too. In some way those are life-affirming activities or at least statements that I am still connected to the world—however tenuously—and that I want and need to come out of depression and get on with my real life.

It’s ridiculous to say “move on” or “change it,” as Tate did. Depression comes and goes when it wills. All we can do is endure it and keep pushing back until it gives us the tiniest toehold. Then take that tiny purchase and push some more. It’s the hardest thing in the world when depression has sapped you, but believe me, you can push back. It won’t allow you to change your depression as if it no longer exists. We can no more change the fact that we have depression than we can our height. We do what we can to persist despite that.

So screw you, Andrew Tate.

And screw you, depression.