It’s been 15 years since my brain went into its first government shutdown.
Isolation, internal emotional bleeding, and..ughh…impotence.
I hated depression with a deep passion.
If only I can surgically excise it from my brain, then I’d finally be the person I want to become.
I tried to cauterize it with Prozac. It was a definite meh.
Then I tried to amplify it with psychedelics and it was more of a “whoa”. Like whoa — my brain could do that?
Whoa — my brain actually has the capacity to:
Connect with others
Express love
Dream and Hope
Accept me
Then through Internal Family Systems therapy, I realized that the hater is not I.
Not me.
Not my Self.
The hater of depression was simply an anxious hologram of me. A me that was driven by only a handful of my values.
A string of thoughts in my head. “Careful. Careful man! Sadness is coming. It’ll destroy us. Run. Run. Lift. Meditate. Quick. Smoke! Sugar! Porn! Keep it away. Anything! Ahhhh!”
“For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break”
A Ritual to Read to Each Other By William E. Stafford
And the more that version of me hated depression, the more depression came back knocking on my door more frequently.
He would usually come in at night after everyone is asleep, and especially if I’m all alone in its shadows.
Driven by my anxiety, I would not welcome depression when it came by to snuggle with us. We would not serve it tea or make it feel too welcome, although nothing we did could kick depression out.
And the more it came back, the more my anxious part developed its deep and visceral hate for it.
Until one day I exhausted my poor brain in that eternal battle. It gave in.
A shut down of my governance system.
A withdrawal of my immune system.
A collapse of my mental fortitude.
The death and despair of Omar Shaker.
And when anxiety was finally in his deep slumber, I heard the voice of depression for the first time…
“What the fuck are you doing man?” Depression said.
I was startled, of course! I didn’t think depression could speak. I stood aghast.
He gently continued “Hey I don’t mean to scare you.”
Stumped, I took a few steps back.
“Stop running. Come sit with me.”
I knew he was right. I had tried everything: No matter how many books I read, movies I watched, videos I scrolled, or joints I’ve smoked…he came back.
And I surrendered to the fact that I was alone with him. Just me and this dark chrome fog.
“Man…I’m here to tell you that you’re doing great and that the anxiety of the world is draining you.” He said.
I started talking to him, albeit with defensiveness. “I know that already! Everyone knows that. What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“I want you to die.” Depression said.
“What! You maniac! You want us to kill ourselves?”
Depression laughed. “Who said kill?”
“You just did!” I said
“That is the language of anxiety not me. I don’t want you to kill yourself. I just want you to let go of the life that is no longer serving you. A respawn. A new start. That is what you need.” He said.
“Why would I do that? Look at the life we’ve built. Look at the beautiful things we have! Why would I ever leave all of that? I just want to go back to enjoying life.”
“That’s how anxiety tricked you. Look at him now in his comatose slur. Wasted after long years of him tormenting you. Pushing you to work harder. Sending you on one pursuit of extravagance after the other. Aching you. Twisting you. Dimming you. Riddling you with obsessive thoughts.”
I watched anxiety collapsed on the floor with saliva drooling from his open clueless mouth. Depression had a fair point.
He continued with a smile. “Look don’t get me wrong anxiety has helped you a lot and has been really important to get you here, but if he hadn’t worked himself to death, you wouldn’t be with me here today.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I asked.
”It is a process of re-vision. If you let me, I’d like us to review your past actions, carefully introspect your recent memories, and help you craft a new vision that serves you better.” Depression said.
“That sounds horrible. I just want to go back to enjoying my life” I said.
“Your past life is no longer there. If you keep resisting my process, then you won’t find a new one either. You’ll just stay stuck here. Take this chance while anxiety is not running the show.”
Annoyed, I said: “How long will it take?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Ughh…stop talking in mysteries. What do you need from me?”
“I need you to shut the door and turn off the lights and ask for help from those who love you. That’s the first step”
“but I don’t want anyone to know Im weak….”
“Ok then I’ll need more time to do my work. Just minimize disruptions and stay away from these damn screens so that I can work in peace.“
And so I did. I rested, and depression worked on my nervous system for a few months that first time we met.
It cut cords, rewired neurons, and soldered broken circuits. In a few days I started to breathe again. In a few weeks I could walk outside again. In a few months I was able to think and feel again.
I was healed, but so was my anxiety who rose from its slumber.
“Hey! What the fuck have we been doing?” Anxiety said “Get us out of here! We have work to do! Our future is lost! Oh look at the dark mist of depression above our heads! Why are we so close to it?! We need to go to a psychiatrist! We need to exercise more! Bring me burger, man! Ahhhhh! Get me out of here! Get this sadness away from me! ”
I smiled, picked anxiety up with my pointer and thumb, and tucked him in my front pocket.
I finally opened the door again. The sun shone into my eyes.
One foot in front of the other, I took my first few steps into world again. Not quite dead, nor reborn, but certainly aware of my existence, and the fickle nature of life.
I looked back at the dark majestic hue of depression swirling about my head. He knew what I was saying without needing to utter the words.
Thank you.
I now realize that depression is not the darkness, but the flickering candle that guides me through it.
Depression didn’t want to kill me.
It wanted to kill the version of me that wouldn’t stop running.
Thank you for reminding me of who I am.
Thank you for knocking on my door.
Thank you for listening.
And Thank YOU for reading.
If this story speaks to you — if you’ve been battling your own anxious hologram — you don’t have to do it alone.
👉 Take the free Human Dash Assessment to see where you might be stuck (burnout, isolation, or self-judgment), and discover the habits and inner work that can help you break through.
👉 Or, if you’re ready to rebuild your health and purpose from the ground up, apply for The Human Dash 3-Month Program — a structured path to recover from burnout while still pursuing your dreams.
Your healing starts with learning how to talk to yourself differently — and you don’t have to wait for another shutdown to begin.