The hardest part about writing on the subject of depression is either you’re depressed, which makes it difficult to write, as you are… depressed. Or the depression has passed, and the subject matter is difficult to dive back into because the feelings have… passed.

So I tackle a heavy subject here with a brain sort of halfway in-between the above. Maybe that is the right place to be as I go into this.

I feel—and I could be wrong—that what I would write on the concept of depression would be rather obvious and not at all novel. Depression is a terrible thing, an unknown thing, a devastating thing when dialed up over a seven out of ten. But for me, it is so simple to describe that I don’t feel like I’d be adding much to the overall conversation on mental health by just exploring “depression.”

That’s where OCD comes in! Always there to complicate things and add much more detail to worry about.

With my OCD, I soothe myself with control. When I have control over my environment, it works to help me feel better. And with having Pure-O OCD, I don’t offload this exercise in gaining control into irrational compulsions like washing hands, touching things repeatedly, etc. Others do, and I understand that. Heck, it is probably healthier (probably, not sure.)

Rather, I need to control that which is going off uncontrolled and disturbing me. When I am depressed, I often look to that which I do not have control and focus on that as the cause of my depression.

I don’t quite know if these things are causing my depression, I don’t know enough about my depression to know. Depression is a stranger in my brain, but that stranger has some power. But my OCD causes me to focus on fixing things. I am obsessed with fixing my depression when it finds its way into my head.

I often blame others. Oh boy, “blame” is a very loaded word. I don’t like thinking I blame others, and I hesitate to act on it as “blame.” I am not a jerk. I do not want to be seen as a jerk. Blaming others for my depression is a jerk thought.

But I do look to what others are doing around me that is an affront to how I need things to be, and out of my control (places more complex than solved through a simple “please stop doing this”, or “please do this.”), I’m a polite control freak.

And I am a control freak, and that is a problem.

The truth is depression is a mix of chemicals in the brain. That much we know. Beyond that, I don’t think any of it is understood well. At least no one has made it understandable to me, other than my observations that it… just… sits there for some time and eventually… passes.

This lack of knowledge that I have, and I feel the whole medical universe has is outside of my control. And that is The Problem. I want to control my depression. I understand it is going to happen. I am glad it is not chronic with me. But I need to control it.
And I cannot. So my brain, with my OCD, goes to other things it can control. Or thinks it can control. Oh, and I can’t use irrational compulsions as a mechanism to feel better. So I need to go a level up and try to control actual events, situations, people, and all of real life around me.

I don’t have a healthy way to soothe depression. These are my options. They aren’t good. But they could be worse.