Waging Peace On The Self

I've made a rash of poor business decisions lately - in the process creating a hole in the ground into which I fell. The "hole" is my mood, my ability to act being suffocated by trashing my heart and sinking into depression. Many people suffer from bouts of depression, myself being one. I am often amazed - and perversely encouraged - by reading about how many accomplished and significant contributors to humanity suffered from depression. People as widely known as Abraham Lincoln and Oscar Wilde. Not that I am in their class, but still I think: they accomplished so much, so surely I can too? There was nothing wrong with them, therefore there is nothing wrong with me. When I read about their difficulties with depression incredulously I ask: but didn't they know how wonderful they were? Didn't they see HOW MUCH they contributed to humanity? How could they not know that? And that thought swings back to me: how could I not know that? In gusts of my depression, obviously I don't. Let me get one thing clear here: doubt and depression are two clearly different states of mind. Doubt is a wondering and curious state of mind, whereas depression is an already-knowing, final-conclusive state of mind. They are vastly different. Doubt is an anecdote to arrogance: it is the tool that seeks the truth of a situation, and questions the constructions which represent it. Depression can be doubted. On the other hand, depression itself contains a bleak and inflexible construction, one that cancels doubt and in place of that concludes with overwhelming finality that… I. Am. Fucked. I don't think I have ever blogged that word before, but it's ugliness and inappropriateness in this context speaks to me about the pernicious nature of depression. At it's heart, depression is a war against me. It is self-hate. It is violent, unforgiving and brutal. It has no place in a compassionate, loving heart. Yet there it is, this black ink slowly staining the fabric of my life: what to do? Taking a leaf out of it's own playbook, I have zero tolerance for depression. I am at war with it. I will not tolerate one second of this insanity in my life. Paradoxically, this is a war that is all about waging peace. When depression starts fastening it's tentacles to suck the joy out of my life, I am ready for it. I will not tolerate it's presence, not for one second. Drop everything and deal with it. Do NOT push on, act out (TV, drinking, sex) or pretend you can cope. Meet it, see it, doubt it's truth as a version of who you are. I am stuck by the war like nature of my language - for the way to meet depression is by love-making to the Self. To celebrate you, appreciate you, understand you. No human being has any more wisdom than another - it's only thinking that makes it seem less so. Our potentiality, YOUR potentiality, is infinite. It is what you are left with, not what you need to find. There's nothing wrong with you and you don't need to be fixed - develop that as a core belief and you can evolve a new means to challenge depression. Do. Not. Believe. In. It. When depression comes to me I do what I am doing now - I question how true are these thoughts I am having about my Self? OK - I made some bad decisions, yes. I am bad? No. Are you? No. This is the truth. It is not as depression would have it. At it's core depression is a form of self-hate, an adventitious disease of the Self. Love is it's anecdote - but love is not a thing you do, love is a thing you have. It is your true nature, the heart of who you are. Seek it out, and it will do it's healing work. The only way to seek it out is to give doubt due parlance. Let doubt question what you are believing about you, and quite quickly you can find your way back to loving you again. In the presence of self-love, depression is instantly vanquished.