Boy Meets Depression: Or, Life Sucks And then You Die Live, by Kevin Breel

[Note: This book was provided free of charge by Blogging For Books/Harmony Books in exchange for an honest review.]

Kevin Breel, who in his early twenties has managed to have the opportunity to give a TED talk on adolescent depression, manages to do in 200 short pages an impressive task in demystifying depression but also in pointing out a lot of where it comes from, in a way that gives dignity through life by being candid and open about its, and his, imperfections. Certainly, in retrospect, Kevin had a lot of the factors that tend to lead to depression: he was a colicky baby, a sensitive and somewhat lachrymose boy, a melancholy teenager whose best friend was killed in a car accident, whose father was an alcoholic, whose parents first emotionally separated early in life and then divorced when he was a teenager, and whose experiences with peers, and especially girls [1], can only be described as horrific. From these promising materials depression comes far too easily, and the author writes with piercing honesty what it is like to live within that dark cloud for years.

In terms of its contents, the book is a straightforward narrative, although there are some nice touches that improve this book, even if it cannot have been fun for the author to write it. The book first sets up the context of the author’s life and the ways that it slowly got out of control, little by little. For one, this book has the pages of its titular chapter: Boy Meets Depression marked in black to describe the point at which the author felt at his lowest and nearly committed suicide. These pages start about 60% into the book and cover about thirty of its slightly more than 200 pages, followed by an aftermath marked by counseling, a change of perspective, and the development of gratitude and appreciation. In this way, the book not only talks about the grubbiness of a self-absorbed teen who wants to die, but how someone goes from there to wanting to live. Each of the chapters in this book include notes to self that consist of short but thoughtful comments on the chapters contents giving takeaways for the reader as well.

Given that the author tends to respect those who are bluntspoken the most, it is little surprise that this book is painfully bluntspoken. In some ways, this comes off as a bit crude, in his casual profanity and continual references to sex, masturbation, and male anatomy and physiology. At other times, though, this book demonstrates the author’s bluntness in ways that are good, in that it helps to remove the veil of pretense and hypocrisy from the author’s experiences, both when it comes to reflection on his naivete and also on the lack of perspective the author had. Perhaps most telling, the author comes to some sort of wisdom, both in the fact that his struggle against depression is likely to be a lifelong one, and also that a proper understanding and perspective of reality, including the reality that he has plenty of loyal and good people in his life who want the best for him, is the best way to keep the demons at bay, so to speak, although ultimately that will depend on the author coming to terms with his character and identity as a child of God, with all the nobility and responsibility that entails. There is much more to be written in the story of the author’s life, and it is a story that all too many people can relate to.

[1] See, for example, this devastating comment about a flirtatious girl named Vanessa:

“At any given time, Vanessa had about fourteen guys trying to be her boyfriend. At most, she would typically think two of them were potential candidates but keep the other twelve around as added motivation for the main two to work harder. She was really running a business more than she was a social life. And her business was to get the most committed, caring guy she could and then proceed to mentally devastate that poor individual.

The paradoxical part about all of this was she really wasn’t a bad person. She isn’t a bad person today, either. She’s a good enough person. She just happens to be a good person who does a bad job noticing how she makes others feel. Part of that you could call selfishness, but the other part of it you would have to call ignorance. She doesn’t know she’s doing it–not because she doesn’t care, but simply because she doesn’t take the time to think about it. For her to know she is being mean or hurtful would come with the assumption that she’s looking to see how you feel. She isn’t. She’s simply thinking about how she feels (p.92).”