The origins of this blog can actually be traced back to another blog I used to write. It was my first attempt at blogging, and in retrospect it wasn’t very focused, even though it contained some pretty decent content. I think more than anything I just hated to give up the title: Half-Empty: Confessions of a Pessimist (Who’s Trying To Do Better). Not to brag, but I thought that was pretty catchy.
That blog was where I first publicly mentioned anything about being diagnosed with depression, and most of the later posts there touched on that topic in some form or another. At one point, I wrote a post concerning Christian deejay and podcaster Brant Hansen. Some of the facts in the post have changed a little, but now that I am also a deejay on a morning show on a Contemporary Christian radio station, I thought I would repost it here today. I hope it still has some relevance.
My wife suggested the other day that I get a sleep study done, and I can’t say that’s an entirely unreasonable idea. I am not exaggerating when I say I could fall asleep at virtually any time of day, possibly even on command. And I’m not talking a light sleep, either. I’m talking drool-on-the-pillow snoozing. When I’m out, I’m out.
I know a bunch of studies have been done on the link between depression and sleep. The National Sleep Foundation’s website devotes quite a bit of space to the topic. Most of the studies I’ve seen seem to suggest the more sleep you get, the less likely you are to experience severe depression, so it would stand to reason I should probably sleep more than I do. When I comb through the Bible, though, there seems to be a certain male bravado when it comes to the topic of sleep. “Love not sleep, lest you come to poverty…” Of course, I realize I am probably grossly misinterpreting these verses, but as someone who has always struggled with never feeling as if they’ve put forth enough effort, punishing my body with a lack of sleep seems somehow noble to me.
Anyway, I say all this because right now I’m tired. I should have been in bed at least an hour ago, but I felt like I needed to post something here before hitting the hay. Over the course of the past two days, I’ve been listening to an extraordinary episode of Paul Gilmartin’s podcast The Mental Illness Happy Hour, featuring comedian/podcaster/writer Mike Betancourt. If you can withstand the litany of f-bombs the approximately one-hour discussion produces, you’ll hear one of the most harrowing life stories ever experienced, as well as how someone can survive the absolute worst this world can throw at them.
I feel incredibly guilty about just throwing a link up here, since that’s basically stealing someone else’s work just to generate some traffic, but Betancourt’s story really affected me so I wanted to give it some exposure. Again, to clarify, the topic matter is very adult, and the language is atrocious, so don’t expect an easy listen. If you find the broadcast offensive, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Actually, even if you do say it, I won’t hear you … because I’ll be asleep.