Will Doerr: My Friend, Depression

I didn’t wake up one day and realize I was depressed, or that something was wrong. I didn’t even know I needed help until it was almost too late. Living with something like depression and all the weight that comes with it was a slow, gradual, and painful decline I wrote off as part of figuring it out — it wasn’t.

In college I spent a lot of my time trying to fit in anywhere that’d take me. Beyond the few close friendships I had made in the early years I let myself become a product of whatever I thought people wanted me to be. I drank a lot, used a lot of substances, and let myself get wrapped up in bad relationships for superficial reasons.

I had always considered myself outgoing and funny, and I took those traits and leaned into them with all I could. If I could make people laugh, they’d like me. If I knew enough people by name, they’d like me. All of these people liking me, without anyone knowing me — sounds terrible now, but was everything I wanted at the time considering I didn’t even know who I was. There became a point where I craved the superficiality of everything. If no one had to know what was going on inside, then I didn’t have to address it for myself.

End of second year was when I first realized there might be something off, but that didn’t stop me from spending almost every night of the following summer drinking. Definitely didn’t stop me from going as hard as ever on the partying all of third year. I knew things inside were getting worse, but I had preferred to bury the beginning stages of depression deeper than admit I was in a mental hole. I would blackout, do something erratic, then blackout again to ignore what I had said or done the night before.

Unfortunately when you’re doing that consistently it becomes “Will being Will” rather than a problem. I was still invited back, so why stop?

The summer going into fourth year was one of the lowest points of my life. I took an internship in central California, with the nearest friends being two hours away. It finally hit me that my party friends were there for the party and not for me. I had known this, and chased it, but finally realized how detrimental it had become. I spent my weekends driving hours to go party, and spent all my weekdays working then smoking weed alone in a 11 x 11 AirBnb with what felt like no one to talk to.

As shitty as this summer was, I needed it to happen. I don’t think I would’ve considered changing had I not spent so much time crying while high and alone.

Following this summer, I got into the first relationship I could get into and let it consume a lot of myself because it felt like a step in a better direction. Turns out it was just a big bandage over a broken bone.

COVID hit in January. Then the relationship ended. Then college ended. And I was now back at home with my parents (who I made conscious efforts to shut out from the bad stuff). I had no direction of where I wanted to go or do.

This was the moment when Always Check on the Homies started. My friends who had stuck around the entire time and my family were the sole reason I didn’t consider ending it. I got really invested in men’s mental health and started seeing a therapist for the first time… told my parents it was for ADHD because I couldn’t admit it was probably depression at the time. I also got a job.

Things were alright for a bit while I was figuring out life after college. I was doing the bare minimum to work through the problems I let stack up on each other while in college and saw an exit plan to get back to living on my own.

Moving down to San Diego has been the best decision I’ve made in my life. But it was also the decision that took me closest to the edge of wanting to end it all.

As soon as I got down to SD, it was a mad dash to make friends and feel like I had a sense of community again. I had spent an entire year living at home and thought I was ready to get back to socializing. I went back to the old habits. If I could make people laugh, they’d like me. If I knew enough people by name, they’d like me. All of these people liking me, without anyone knowing me.

This time I wasn’t chasing the empty relationships, but I was focused on doing the things that created them. Now I wasn’t just depressed. I was depressed, and confused, and felt like any progress I had even tried to make had been a waste of breath.

In October of last year I was certain I’d rather be dead than deal with the baggage I had created for myself. I’d rather be dead than try and figure out why everything felt so incredibly empty. I’d rather have complete silence than listen to all the noise built up inside my head.

I tried to justify it. Robin Williams, Chester Benington, Anthony Bourdain — all people I had looked up to had done it, so why shouldn’t I. I told myself I was a bad person and that I deserved it. I had convinced myself that everyone was worth saving except for me.

On October 16th, I cracked. I thought that if I was going to do it, I might as well give someone a heads up. I told Davis when we had had a few too many drinks, because god forbid I tell him sober. And then the next day I told Jordan, because I hardly knew her at the time so what’s there to lose. And then I thought if I told both of them I’d at least have to tell Zach, so I called him a few days while in a Target parking lot.

More and more people were being added to that list every time I told someone and I began to realize I didn’t want to quit, I just wanted help and to know I wasn’t alone.

I signed up for a new therapist shortly after. Then I told my parents (not everything all at once), and eventually started medication after a few months. Fast forward almost a year and I can confidently say I enjoy being alive.

The healing process that’s occurred over the last year has been anything but easy. There’s been a lot of forgiveness that has had to be given when I didn’t think it was deserved. I’ve had to come to terms with the problems I believe I created and accept them for what they are.

I still wake up a lot of days thinking I’m a bad person, or feeling completely empty. And I’m still figuring out how to balance social activities as time for celebration rather than escape. But the largest differentiator now is I know there’s better in the present.

I want to live a pretty long life, and I couldn’t have confidently said that this time last year. Sure not everything is perfect, but I’ve got a whole new perspective. And when that perspective fails, I’ve got a whole team behind me now who can pull me up.

If you’ve read all the way to this point, thank you. I hope through all of this you can take away the idea that asking for help is always going to be the better way out. If you can be that person for someone, extend a helping hand. Progress is far from linear. We’re all going through some shit, but at least we’re going through it together.