Darkness

by an anonymous undergraduate student

Darkness. It dawns on people for different reasons, in different ways, with different severity. In its most pure form, its most dangerous form, its unexplainable.  There is no anniversary, no day that it began or experience it stems from. One Monday you look up and on a bright, sunny, 75 degree day, it feels like the middle of winter. It is that moment you realize that for “a while”, no set period of time, just “a while,” it has been dark. Filet mignon doesn’t taste good, parties are useless distractions, your covers in your room are your only shield from the world because people irritate you.  Homework is impossible to complete, mostly because it is useless, dumb, of no value. But then again, nothing has value.  Those little life missions, those moments that everyone lives for — the Friday pre-game, the Saturday football game, Special Dinner, spring break, summer break, sex — are all pointless.  And no one knows. No one gets it. Life goes on around you, everyone has it figured out… moment by moment… day by day… week by week… month by month… year by year.… You? NOPE, you don’t have a clue. You question everything around you, but more importantly, you wonder how no one else is. How do all these people.. ALL THESE FUCKING PEOPLE… not get it? Suddenly, your irritation of people has become anger…

Depression at Stanford is funny. There are panels, discussions, dorm communities to ensure this happy, perfect place remains just that — happy and perfect. Person A comes out in her freshman hall meeting and says they have a history of depression, they have been depressed (everyone goes all silent and concerned), and aren’t scared to tell you and feel comfortable saying it! WOW, HOW AWESOME! Panels are held where students talk about the duck syndrome, and first-hand experience with bi-polar, depression, or mania and how they used the resources available, or were lucky enough to have a community of support, and they overcame and made it! YOU ARE NOT ALONE! PARTICULARLY NOT HERE AT STANFORD!

This anger towards people manifests itself in many different ways. You walk into the dining hall and run into Joe. He is an acquaintance. You make as quick work of the conversation as possible without setting off any troubling alarms. After grabbing an apple and some milk, not being particularly hungry because your appetite has been scarce, you run into your best friend at Stanford. This conversation is a little longer but when he asks you to sit with him, you say you got to run. He wants to study with you later, you tell him no, more briskly. And finally, when he asks if you are going to the party tomorrow night, you look at him pissed off and say no! Finally, you look around and see people laughing… why are they smiling? Why are they laughing? It doesn’t make sense. People don’t make sense. You leave the dining hall to eat in your room and watch Netflix. Somehow everything is even darker — certainly didn’t think that was possible…

Depression at Stanford is funny. People try to relate. “It’s like that time” or “I understand” or “Well if theres anything I can do.” That is the first sign that a person doesn’t have a fucking clue what its like to be depressed. That darkness isn’t like any time you felt, isn’t understood by any experience you had, and no, there is absolutely nothing you can do. For each person, myself included, that darkness is unique, it comes from a set of experiences that YOU have not had. Without that set of experiences and that set of reactions, you are so far gone from my darkness that to pretend you can relate is an affront to my intelligence. Stanford students are go-getters, problem solvers. Well, depression has no solution, so there will never be anything you can do about it. And to acknowledge that is important and is the closest thing to a solution you will ever find.

That anger eventually subsides into a resignation. Do people realize there is something wrong? Well that depends on two things: how talented you are and how perceptive your friends are. Personally, after the anger stage, I went about my business with just a little more flatness to each of my conversations. I avoided people as much as I could but not to the point where people thought I disappeared. I didn’t call out for help. I deceitfully got by everyone… my RA’s, my family, my friends, my girlfriend. And it festered… a feeling of uselessness, emptiness, lifelessness. It all added up to an extended blanket of darkness. Nothing felt good, nothing tasted good, and nothing smelled good. I tried many things, but I could never identify why this darkness existed, why I was covered by a blanket of nothingness. No one noticed because my darkness was real. I felt I had no value in life and that life had no value… period. But why disrupt other people’s world just because I couldn’t see what they saw? So one night, I walked to the top of a building where I would likely not be found for weeks with the pills that I really wanted to taste, to feel… I wanted to die with feeling…

Depression at Stanford is funny. Everyone says the same thing and it makes no sense. If you are lucky enough to know, to be aware, that someone you care about is thinking of suicide, please DO NOT recount why they are valuable. How they got into Stanford, it gets better, remember the old times? How they are privileged to be here, they’ll meet that girl that will make their dreams come true, or to give it time, what do you have to lose? If they are serious about suicide, that stuff doesn’t matter. They have lost touch with the value in themselves, they have come to the very honest, and true realization… that one individual truly DOES NOT provide value in the world except to oneself. If you want to talk someone off the ledge who is really serious about jumping, be fucking selfish. Tell them exactly how your life would change without them. NOTHING ELSE works.

I sat down on the roof of the SIEPR building and looked out into the sky. I could hear drunk people below singing and laughing. I honestly just did not understand. What is there to be happy for? Life is pointless and no one person can bring value to the world. Yet at Stanford, everyone is so directed and driven… but for what? There is nothing but selfishness. A desire to feel important and to do something of value… when neither is truly possible. My phone rang, while I was staring at the bottle. I decided, against my better judgment to answer it… “Hey! I just booked your flight for winter break! We are excited to see you…” My mom’s voice. She’ll never know it, but she saved me.

There are no solutions to depression. But you can always be a more perceptive friend, a better person, and make time for those you care about. Because when darkness hits your friend or family member, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be lucky enough to realize it… and know what to say.