Michael Angel, Nobody Likes You When You're 17... or Whatever Blink-182 Said

Nobody Likes You When You’re 17...or Whatever Blink-182 Said

MICHAEL ANGEL

Maybe I'm writing this at midnight because I'm procrastinating on homework, or maybe I just want to talk about it. One pillar I was raised on was selflessness. I feel like it's something we all should really learn and teach, but when taken to the extreme, it gets a bit out of hand. Believe me, I know.

I'm not knocking anyone who tells you to treat yourself, or the people that are emotionally unavailable because they put others first before themselves (even when that other person is in the wrong). Trust me, I've been both of those people. The people that tell their friends to go to sleep before 1 a.m. and take time to rest, but are crying on the inside, I see you. The people that tell their lonely friend that they deserve love and will find the greatest partner in the world, but put themselves down and bury themselves in insecurity, I see you too. The easy thing about self-love is telling other people to embrace it; the hard part is embracing it yourself. Before I make this a cliché, let me tell you guys a story.

My junior year of high school was extremely hard. I was neck-deep in homework every day, I was only getting about 4-5 hours of sleep per night (while getting up at around 6:30 a.m.), and felt emotionally and mentally drained. So many things were going on in my head all the time. Loneliness, the struggle between procrastination and the fear of failure, and an overwhelming feeling that I wasn't worth anything crept up on me every day I came home from school. The weather felt bitter every day; it made me bitter. January to May was uncomfortably cold, and that year Palmdale didn't start getting warm until after the school year ended for some reason. Not to mention, I slept on a futon for the majority of my high school life, and at around this time, my body was rejecting it. Lack of sleep and an uncomfortable place to sleep are a dangerous combination. Every day I woke up not wanting to wake up, and it was tough. I realized I was going through a depressive episode, so I tried to combat it.

I would try playing video games, which surprisingly, didn't help at all (even though I love video games). Netflix binges, YouTube, playing music, all were no help. I remember for about two months straight I would get home from school, put my backpack down, and lie on the couch underneath the same blanket. I would just scroll through the three pillars of social media: Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat over and over again to try to distract myself. When I was done with one, I would go back to the other two, and I would do it over and over again. One late night around midnight, I lied down, put in my earbuds, and listened to music. I tried comforting music, sad music, loud music, everything. No change.

I was a sucker for writing poetry at the time too. And yes, it was sappy and sad and pretty much what you would expect from a sad teenage aspiring writer (I still have that notebook and have thought about burning it, but decided against it. Who knows what's in there now? Maybe I could use it in the future). Anyway, bottom line, I was borderline depressed, and nothing helped. It had gotten to the point where I stopped trying to fight it and just let it be. If I was gonna be sad, at least I'll do it on my own terms. It's hard going through a depressive episode, but it's even harder when you realize you can't fix yourself.

As I woke up every day, tired, relenting being stuck in the same old cycle every day, I came to terms with my emotions. I realized that yeah, I was sad—possibly depressed. I've never been diagnosed with depression, so I use that term sparingly, but I believe based on who is reading this, you probably understand what I mean. Regardless, it kinda hurt to realize nothing I was doing was working, and that I was hurting myself mentally by trying to avoid how I was feeling instead of accepting it. I was just trying to shove through it. It was like trying to fill a hole with dirt, but the more dirt you put in, the hole just keeps getting deeper. The end of it feels much farther than when you first started, and there's no bottom to it. And yes, the truth is, there really is no end to it, just constant beginnings.

Each beginning of a depressive episode can feel different from past ones, or they can feel strikingly similar. People never truly know; they just know they're there. It's similar to smelling something that you can't quite put your finger on, but you know you have smelled it before. But, coming to terms with that pain and constant tug your emotions have on you gives you an advantage in overcoming it. Emotions aren't necessarily our enemy; I know media everywhere (books, shows, movies) tend to try to shove that down our throats. The coolest characters are always the stone-cold killers; the ones that have been through so much that in the end they feel nothing (shoutout to Itachi). But emotions aren't the enemy, they're your friends. Yeah, some of them are jerks, others are nice, but they all come around the times you don't really expect them.

Over the years, I just stopped trying to avoid the beginnings of depressive episodes. It's about deciding to overcome them, and by embracing the fact that you are depressed, or sad, or in grief, you're creating a gate to unlock. The only work left is to find the key. Sometimes that key is hard to find, other times it's easier. But waiting around the gate won't open it; you'll just be sitting next to it knowing how to open it, but not opening it yourself. That's what I did during my junior year of high school. It's not fun.

After the constant mornings of not wanting to do anything at all—even exist—I accepted that I was experiencing depression. It may have been minor, or worse than I thought; I still don't know. Nevertheless, it was there, and I didn't like 77

it being there. I realized I couldn't fix it myself, so I put my non-poet pants on and was blunt with myself and those around me. They told me what I needed to hear: that I was loved and appreciated, and that the things I was going through were temporary, that once I figured out how to fix them, I can put in the work to overcome them. I too started telling myself what I needed to hear. I can't exactly say what those things were because every piece of advice is different for every person, and I don't think what I told myself is helpful because of how specific it is. To cope, I started to write more. I would write paragraphs on how I felt, and what I was feeling about a certain aspect of what was driving me nuts. Afterwards, I would try to formulate those feelings into songs. That way, I kept my mind busy while dealing with how I was feeling at the same time, so I would come to terms with my emotions and move on from them. Now, this probably won't work for everyone, and it might not even work every time I go through it, but it helps me try.

One thing I can say is that going through these times repeatedly throughout the years has taught me that while depression may not end, the person that experiences it doesn't either. I'm still Michael Robles, I still love music and writing, and making others feel loved. Humans, by default, are emotional beings. Why reject that? I learned to live in a balance between accepting my emotions and not letting them get the best of me. This balance allows me to share things like this with people (even though it is rare when I do). It allows me to say "much love" to you all (and I know I've said that to at least a few people reading this). The junior year me from high school is still in me, but I have come to terms with who that person was back then, and know the good and bad traits of him. If you asked me if I would remove that time from my memory if I had the chance, I would say no. Yeah, he was way too emotional at times, but he also had some pretty damned good times. Beating Fallout: New Vegas for the first time? I would never take that away from him. Performing music for the first time ever? I wouldn't trade it for the world.

It's moments like those we tend to forget about when going through depression. They get clouded in the constant thoughts of telling ourselves we're worthless and that we don't deserve happiness. In reality, I know you do; I know I do. Selflove is one of the most important types of love, and no one should be robbed of it, especially by themselves. I still struggle with self-love and recognizing my worth. These past few months were pretty tough in that field for me, but I almost always circle back to knowing that I deserve more credit than what I or some people give myself. The same goes for all of you as well (don't get sappy on me, remember, we're trying to avoid that).