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Writer's pictureKrk Nordenstrom

Coming out about depression

I can only speak for myself. I can only speak to my experience.

Anthony Bourdain passing has made for a tough week. More than Chris Cornell even, someone I've had the great pleasure of spending a small amount of time with and one of my favorite musicians over the last 30 years.

Bourdain was tough. Very tough because the phrase "But he had everything! What could he possibly be depressed about?" popped up a lot. I didn't always agree with him, but his passion for travel and food as a way to break down barriers and decrease the fear of The Other was always an inspiration.

It's really triggered me in a big way. One of the traps for me is this feeling of not even being worthy of my own depression, that it's something I inflict on others for selfish reasons because what could I possibly have to be depressed about? So I tamp it down, hide it, push harder to help others and the result is always the same... I beat myself up for not pursuing my own happiness and goals because what could I possibly be depressed about? I have a pretty damned good life. Someone who is always there who embraces and shares my particular brand of weird. A beautiful home. A dog who is very much "my dog". Three delightfully weird cats. A career. A loving extended family. The best friends a guy could ask for. A successful event I've been running for 14 years!

And yet... I just want to take a nap. Make the day shorter until I can sleep. When I'm working, I can only think about how I should be doing more to help others achieve their goals because working on my own is selfish. That the work I'm doing just simply won't measure up to the insane standards I imagine others are imposing on me, that I impose on myself... why bother? That there's someone else who could use the job more than me. That there's someone else who can obviously do the job better than me. Who am I fooling? A nap and a movie will obviously lessen this intense, never-ceasing frustration.


I have friends that fled the Iranian revolution, fled political persecution, survived wars, lived in refugee camps, went to prison for their political beliefs... and I grew up in a loving, if stoic, family in the suburbs of San Jose, CA where I had every opportunity, and excelled at school and swimming. Yet I still feel as if I don't deserve any of it... that I'm fooling everyone somehow.

That inner critic is a motherfucker. It never shuts up. It never lets up. And in moments of calm or true happiness, it shouts, "You're not worthy!" I want to shout at it. Tell it to shut the fuck up, but I can't summon will to expend that emotional energy... because it could be better used to help someone else in some fashion because someone else is more worthy or more in need of being happy than me.


So I push through, napping and craving sleep more than I should, skating by on the bare minimum of effort I can muster for myself... constantly exhausted.


This is not a cry for help. I learned long ago some very valuable tools to help keep me centered, to help keep me safe. It's frustrating that I let this go on for almost 30 years before seeking help to break this vicious cycle, but I have. Fuck you inner critic!


It's a busy week ahead. I can't afford the naps. I have a lot of work to do! I'm going to take inspiration from my amazing family and friends and strive to be mighty.


Anthony Bourdain, tonight I drink a beer at my favorite watering hole with a friend in your honor. #dontwaitcreate #fuckdepression #ineedanap

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