Anyway. I was severely depressed. I was never suicidal. I thought about it once in a while, but not seriously. I don't know why. In as much as people deserve to be suicidal, I was there for about 4 years.
Regardless, like anybody in that particular position, I fought to find something that would help me get up in the morning. Something that would help me get through one more day. I wished then, and sometimes wish now, that is was fiscally reasonable for me to crawl into bed and never get out of it. I'm not particularly depressed anymore, but everybody has a down day. (Plus I really hate my job, but that's something completely different.)
The reason I found to get out of bed every morning was, in the end, the Beatles. Don't ask me how it happened. But suddenly I had every album, every book I could find, every movie and video available at the time (before pirating and rereleases, et al), every conspiracy theory that was available. I particularly enjoyed the songs and movies that were the most nonsensical. I honestly tried to decipher them all, even if, like I Am the Walrus, they flat said that it didn't mean anything. Sometimes I still wonder if Paul McCartney is really alive.
Now I'm to a point where I really love them. They're still my favorite. Tattoos and wallpapers and key rings and jewelry--it's all part of my day to day that I don't even think about anymore. Sometimes, though, I listen in a particular frame of mind, and I grow really nostalgic for when they were my entire reason for continuing. I don't miss needing them to help me through another day, but I do miss having that passion for them. I still have the books, all the albums, the movies, etc, but it's not all consuming like it once was.
I realize that this is an indication that I'm healthier but without something to fixate on, I feel unfocused. I try to rekindle my need for the Beatles but, while they're always with me and always my go-to, I'll never need them as much as I did in my early 20s. And that makes me a little sad.
