Writing mostly helps me to manage my mental health. That’s the answer.

For me, depression tends to work in waves and stretches. I don’t know if that’s the case for others, as I don’t have many people I talk with about this stuff. Anyway, I’ll go a few months with no issues emotionally or mentally. Something happens here or there that puts my mind in a bad place for a few minutes. Maybe a night. But I’m ultimately good.

Then something happens that brings out a reaction I don’t expect. A few minutes become a few hours. A night of sleep doesn’t make the feelings go away. My brain is in a tailspin that transitions into a nosedive. Both words may have similar meanings, but I don’t feel like doing a Google search.

A few good months made me believe that my depression is “cured,” and I’ve finally conquered something I have struggled with since I was 15 years old. It takes one bad moment to upend all of that optimism, optimism that may be naive, but I don’t know enough about depression to know if that’s the case.

The latest “one bad moment” was a text message from the headmaster at the school I teach for. It wasn’t what he said but how he worded it that sent my mind spiraling. And I won’t waste time detailing what happened because a) the details aren’t relevant, and b) I’m not interested in writing a story of good and bad guys. I did something he didn’t care for; he reacted the way he usually does (meaning, the way that causes most teachers to close themselves off to him), and here I am writing a blog.

It started with frustration: frustration over the text, the headmaster, the university I work for, the decision to become a teacher, the decision to leave the US to teach abroad, everything. That’s how quickly the electricity flows from one dark thought to another. And yes, I’m visualizing one of those CGI movie scenes where a virus or something flows from one cell to another, and we get Spider-Man as a result.

Anyway, frustration led to anger and doing stupid shit like replacing my profile picture on social media with a black screen cause that’ll show them for pissing me off. /s Then, to circumvent the anger, I tried to laugh it off and find humor in the situation. Inevitably, laughing turns into crying because all the negative feelings I suppress overwhelm me in seconds. Before I know it, I’m trying to play NCAA Football 12 to help my mind escape, only to weep uncontrollably while selecting a defensive play.

And that’s when I realized there is no conquering of depression or a cure. It’s always there. It’s just—sometimes it’s dormant. Sometimes, life is good, and everything feels good. And sometimes, a day is terrible, and life feels bad as a result. When others can move on from the bad day, my brain can’t quite do it.

I’ve been to therapy three times. I used the present perfect for you other teachers to indicate there’s always a chance three can become four. The first time I went to therapy, I incorrectly assumed that talking with a qualified stranger for a couple of months would fix everything. The second time I went to therapy, I learned that the key to depression is learning how to manage it.

I learned to accept that bad moments happen. When they do, I should have the tools to get through it. Writing is one of those tools for me. It helps me get everything out of my head and creates space in my mind for something else, preferably something positive, to fill the void. It’s a better alternative than letting the negativity and dread check all other thoughts at the door.

Writing mostly helps me to manage my mental health. That’s the answer, and hopefully, will be moving forward.