What would I tell myself...

One of the many things that somehow has remained crystal clear in my web of synapses (which must have a few holes here and there considering I've done enough coke & meth over the years to kill a small elephant) is the memory of my first depression. I was about 7 or 8 and the undeniable insignificance of my life bitch slapped me in the face a good one. I don't remember my exact train of thought, but I do remember thinking of how small and inconsequential I was in the big picture of things. I went up to my room and started to cry. Mom came in and started to comfort me, and she asked me what was wrong. Her first thought was that I was disappointed with the new Nintendo game I had just bought, which wasn't the case (the game was the old RPG Dragon Warrior, which was pretty damn good for it's time). I remember feeling at a loss for words to explain myself to her, since nothing was really wrong, I just felt wrong all the sudden and had no prior experience in feeling this way before. Finally, I just blurted out "my life has no meaning", because that was the best thing I could think of to answer her question of why I was crying. She laughed at my precocity, which actually was a great reply because it broke the tension and made me feel a little better. I forget what she told me, but I do remember that soon after that, our dog Teddy came into my room and he seemed to be able to tell that I wasn't okay. He looked at me with this concerned dog-look, hopped up on the bed, and licked me in the face. I felt a whole lot better after that. I mean, if Teddy could comprehend enough meaning to sense that something was wrong and give a cheer-up lick-in-the-face, then maybe life did have meaning after all. So I got up, wiped the tears off my face, and went downstairs to play some more Nintendo.

Somtimes I wonder what I would tell my younger self if I was transported back in time for the purpose of offering some comforting advice and words of encouragement to the bewilered young soul I was. I'm glad that this will never happen, but I suppose that I would tell myself something such as what follows:

Well, young self, don't take this the wrong way but you're absolutely right, your life has no meaning, as far as the big picture of the universe is concerned. You could drop off the face of the earth and it would make no great difference to the world. But if your life and the people in it mean something to you, well, that's all that counts, and that's all you have. And as for this sneaking suspicion you have that no one out there has the kind of answers you're looking for in life and that after all this time that human beings have been around, there is no one person to this day who knows what it all means any more than the next person, well, you're right again. In fact, take that thought and run with it, young lad. Don't let anyone else ever try to tell you what your life means because the only one who can decide that is you. And don't despair or waste your time being depressed, there's just as many reasons to feel good as there are to feel bad, it's all a matter of what you wish to focus on. Well, younger me, I've probably already said more to you than really necessary. As I said before, you're the only one who can decide what your life means, so I'll head back to my DeLorean now.

If I really could head back in time, I might also want to mention to my younger version that he's a drug addict waiting to happen, but that's a different story (besides, I wouldn't want to disrupt the space-time continuum too much). Anyhow, I'm very content these days and I hope that I'll never again have to feel the empty feeling that I was so accustomed to between the ages of 17-21 (we're talking major depression here). Life looks great today, and meaningless as ever.

****P.S- For those of you who are dog lovers and wondering about the details of our dog Teddy, he was a long haired miniature Dachsund and a great little companion. He died last year at the ripe old age of 19.