At the beginning of 2009, I was at the lowest spot I've ever been. The year of 2008 had destroyed me from nearly every front imaginable, and 2009 had welcomed me with the
passing of my cat of fifteen years.
Needless to say I was a tad unhappy.
I blamed this feeling on the specific events of the previous year: the ending of a relationship;
my body almost killing me, literally; almost going completely broke; and nothing worthwhile to show for any of it.
But the more I pondered my own mire of sorrow and desperation, I began to recall that these feelings did not start with the obvious events of the year prior.
No. In fact, even during the good moments of my last relationship, I can still remember feeling as if something was not right. Sure the relationship had its share of red flags, but at the time it was still fun and exciting.
In reality I had been on a long downward slope of unhappiness for the last several years.
So what was going on with me?
Why was I still unhappy during moments of supposed happiness?
How far back did my depression go, and what caused it?
More importantly, what actually makes me happy?
LOOKING TO THE PAST
As a young, carefree child, I spent hours drawing landscapes with colored pencils, creating elaborate death traps for skateboarding stick figures, and recording multi-hour ramblings on cassette tapes that was, in my mind, an entertaining variety radio show.
I can recall building things with Legos while laying on the floor telling myself stories, or creating an epic, and usually hyper-violent movie scenario for my action figures to play out, complete with in-depth character connections and full background histories.
I rarely played sports, and the few times I joined the neighbor kids in anything requiring some ounce of athletic skill, I reaped the chastising-based rewards of
my lifelong disinterest in sports.
This only helped to turn me continually inward, relying more and more on my own imagination as the primary means of my entertainment and satisfaction.
Music was also a big part of my life at the time, and I spent many moments of my free time dreaming of becoming a famous rapper (sorry, that's what I liked at the time). I wrote down lyrics, wrote trite melodies and chord patterns (C'mon, I was a kid), and created logos and album covers for myself, which continued for several years, even as my musical tastes drifted into pop, and then rock.
Music was always a place I wanted to be, but there were so many other creative things I did at the time that there was no need to focus on just one.
"So, Niko. That's really neat that you did a bunch of stupid things as a child, but what does that have to do with your depression?"
Thanks for the sarcasm friend.
What I'm trying to illustrate is that during this time of my life, I was constantly inspired, much more positive, and had a fairly optimistic outlook on life and my future.
...And then puberty hit.
MOMMY, WOW! I'M A BIG KID NOW
My transition into adulthood (which is a constant journey, not a destination) has been a rocky and challenging path (as I imagine it is for so many of us).
Now that I was a hormone-throbbing young man, my emotions took me in stranger, and much more dramatic directions at the drop of a hat. And boy did people drop a lot of hats (clumsy fools).
In essence, the influx of new chemicals in my body plus time and experience, had changed me into a new person, far removed from the optimism of my child-like self of days gone by. I was now a brooding, overly-introspective teenager whose emotions governed and clouded his entire perspective on existence.
So, is this the source of my depression? Simple Biology?
Yes and no.
In the sense that I was now capable (as if it was intentional) of feeling super-human mood-swings, yes, it started there. But was it the source of the hollow, lackluster sadness that grew on me like a fungus in recent years? No. But it sure provides a nice canvas to paint on.
Sure I still spent many an evening curled up in the fetal position on my bed, most likely on the phone with a
girl who would never love me, while somber, atmospheric music drifted out my speakers, melding perfectly with the bleak glow of my black light and lava lamp.
(Oh you poor high school kid, your life is so hard. Here, have my pretend sympathy).
But on the upside I also had plenty of creative projects to keep me busy. I was in about every possible music program in high school from marching band, to jazz band, to symphonic band (which I really loved). I also took several art classes, in the end becoming quite interested in 3D computer art (also very fun). To round it all out I took an acting class (eh...), I played in a metal band with some friends, and I continued to hone my own songwriting skills by working on long, self-involved keyboard compositions.
I led quite a busy life at the time, looking back.
Despite being melodramatic and emotional about every stupid little thing, I really had a lot going on in my life to be excited and proud of.
THE DESCENT BEGINS
The juxtaposition of my early post-high school life and the mile-a-minute marathon that was my high school routine was not immediately apparent to me.
At first I had a job working in the music department of the long-defunct Media Play (which was quite fitting). I would go clubbing twice a week ritualistically, and began playing with a little band called Dunwich Horror, a tongue-in-cheek black and death metal cover band, which featured the brothers Thomas and Daniel Drinnen (which later became
Urizen).
I kept myself quite content (as much as I can be) and busy with projects, yet slowly over time, my personal outlets for self expression would begin to drop off the radar, as I became a singularly-focused person.
Around the same time of the above shenanigans, I had begun my early recording experimentation with digital music, taking songs I had been working on since I was 14 and 15 years old, and bringing them into the present with amazingly sort-of-okay results!
Omitting several important steps for you readers, this project eventually became my personal band
Envinity (then called Envy).
As time progressed, I cut off the remaining avenues of creativity leaving just my personal music as my single outlet for my imagination, emotion and experiences.
Over the next several years I was lucky enough to release two albums, Sweet Painful Reality in 2002, and Empyreal Progeny in 2004. I hadn't picked up a pencil, brush or drawing program in years, (although I did started getting into Photoshop and graphics for my albums), and my toys were long since put away. Everything I did was now almost 100% focused on Envy, including the way I structured my life.
Envy (now Envinity), was all I had, and had now come to represent me as a whole.
Without really knowing it, there was no longer a separation between my art, and the person I was.
YOU ARE WHAT YOU DO
Though I'd known this for quite some time, I recently came face to face with the notion that I have trouble defining myself outside of what I do.
If I were asked to describe what makes me ME, I'd begin telling you things that I've done, created, or thought of. None of these being who I am as a human being.
Given that most of my life was spent being creative or imaginative (even if it wasn't always very good), I had built up a connection between who I am, and what I do. There was no difference. I had become the things I create. "Who is Niko?" Well, let me show you this new thing I did.
Going back to the last few depressing years in question, what was I producing at the time? What was I working on?
Well, there's the problem.
For someone who is apparently defined by what I do, I was not being very well defined.
I had the beginnings of my eventual 3rd album (coming soon), which I was very excited about, but it was far, far from completion. To further distance myself from creatively-driven actualization, it seemed at the time that the project would never see the light of day.
"Okay, so this new thing you were working on was a long way off, but weren't you still playing live shows with your band? Isn't that something tangible and creative?"
Well friend, the live version of Envinity had sadly disintegrated into a near-comical facsimile of the grand vision I had started out with, pushing me further down the path to personal depression and frustration.
If indeed Envinity was all I had, and its gains and outputs represented my gains and outputs, I had nothing. The whole thing was turning into something I hated, and therefore so was I. It had nothing new to show for itself, vicariously, neither did I.
I did not put it into focus at the time, but I recall wondering why I could feel so worthless and unhappy when I had other things in my life that should have made up for that. I had no idea why I felt so down.
I had no idea, at this time, that my creativity connects directly to my identity, and also my emotions.
THE DEPRESSION PANACEA
At the start of 2009, finally realizing this seemingly obvious connection between my moments of satisfaction and purpose in life, and my amount of personal creative output, I made a pledge. And no, not one of those flimsy new year's resolutions that no one ever remembers or follows through on.
I vowed to myself, that I would make 2009 the most creatively saturated year I'd ever experienced.
With newly ignited interest and cautious optimism, I quickly jotted down a list of every project I'd ever fantasized about doing, designing, or being a part of at any point in my lifetime. From the most grandiose, to the absolutely stupid and silly.
As I stared at the ever growing list of potential ideas, I began to see how much I had limited myself in the last several years. Here I was with the mindset that I was ONLY a musician, and yet my list told me otherwise. So I guess I'm not just a musician anymore eh? Then what am I? (Besides an occasional ass?).
As we head into the fall of '09, I'm glad to say that my personal life-experiment has showed some wonderful signs of positivity.
I'm on my way to finally finishing the project I started almost five years ago for Envinity (which is good in and of itself), but to add to that, I've also found a new interest in writing about philosophy and psychology from my sarcastic, self-deprecating perspective, which I've been fairly consistent on since April.
Not to mention my
awesome T-shirt store, which is something I've talked about doing for years.
There are also a handful of other side projects which I will begin very soon, and I'm very excited about finally getting to them (as many of them were things I've wanted to do since I was a teenager, or even a small child).
Have I done everything off of my 'to do' list this year?
No.
But you know what?
It's okay.
I'm already doing more for me than I ever have, and I'm now the busiest I've been since my long gone high school days.
It's stressful, it's overwhelming, and I love it.
Honestly, I love it.
Sure, I'm not sunshine and rainbows 24/7, but that's not me regardless. However, I am more satisfied with myself, more energetic, more positive (let me stress the word MORE, meaning a matter of degree only) than at any point in my life that I can recall.
If I am a person who is truly defined by what I do, then I've embraced that understanding and have given myself ample creative outlets, both short term and long term, in order to exist through. And it is only through putting my all into something I create that I truly feel alive.
I don't know if my realizations will work for anyone else, but I can tell you this:
It feels great to be alive again.
Related blogs:
I Resent Your Happiness
Too Early For Suicide?
72 Degrees In The Head, All The Time
2008: The Worst Year In My Life
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