Depressioncraft
How to survive within yourself
Disclaimer: These are my survival tools. They do not replace therapy or professional help. If you feel overwhelmed, please contact a crisis hotline (e.g., 988 in the US, 116 123 in EU) or a doctor.
Foreword
This is not a blog aimed at telling a story of heroic struggle or glorifying the author. Though I hope to turn it into a full-fledged book one day. I am writing this because – to quote the rapper Quebonafide – “I smashed my worldview into atoms.” This blog is partly a way for me to find my true self, and at the same time, to legitimize your survival in the jungle called your own mind. I don’t have a degree in psychology or psychiatry – I simply survived, and my life makes a little more sense day by day.
Log 1.0
My first memory of depression is the moment I received poor results on my school exams, which were supposed to get me onto the highway of prestigious education. A void in my throat, a void in my stomach, a cold cutting through my entire body, as if someone had stunned me.
Even back in middle school, I felt a huge dissonance between where I lived and where I went for vacations. In the former, I was attacked first physically, and when that didn’t work – thanks to my parents enrolling me in martial artes few years back – they started attacking me mentally. Unfortunately, I had no defense for that. In the latter, I was treated as an equal by friends from the neighborhood – first kisses, first beers, sitting on the pitch all day playing until late evening.
I’m writing this to make you understand that despite physical conditions – even if you’re built like a tank – you can still struggle with demons that would take down an ox. No one ever taught me how to deal with hate, insults, or mockery, especially from the opposite sex, whom you couldn’t just punch in the face.
So I went for what seemed like the only reasonable solution at the time – I became a hater and a scumbag myself, though with some moral code and a self-imposed muzzle so as not to cross the line completely. Did I help myself in any way? Absolutely not. The only thing I gained was contempt for myself. I knew I was better than that, and I was aware of what I was doing.
I found an outlet in video games and cycling. I got a copy of Call of Duty 2 back then, and after finishing the campaign, I tried my luck playing on my super-fast 1mb/s internet. I wasn’t the best, despite grinding for hours a day – being “mid” wasn’t enough for me… I wanted to be undisputedly the best.
So I started cheating. First on my own server with commands allowing me to see through walls using Cheat Engine, then eventually paying decent money for aimbots and other wallhacks.
The second blow of piercing cold came when I caught a ban on the main league platform back then – ClanBase. At that moment, it was total exposure. Me, exposed as a fraud. ME!! In my own head, I wanted to be the best. I don’t know what hurt more: the public exposure to the world, or the exposure to myself—facing the lie I had been feeding on.
Why am I digging this up? Why am I telling you this? Because having lost control over events, I decided I would never lose that control again.
…to be continued.
How would I handle it today?
I would know that comments, trash talk, being “mid,” or even my closest ones do not define me as a human being. Their narrative is just a projection of their own demons.
However, I’m not writing this to repeat established clichés. You, me, others felt—or are feeling right now—that these exact opinions, the mockery, the laughter, the evaluation… they define you. They attack you. They bite under your skin, and you know you can’t scratch it out or cry it out. You can only get tired and fall asleep.
Where do you feel it?
Why do their words matter to you?
What colour are your walls?
How many windows are in your room right now?
How many things can you reach right now?
You are not your thoughts.
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