I try to keep my writing light and upbeat for the most part, but I also want my writing to be honest and real. I can’t very well do that if I’m constantly sugar coating with “I’m fines” and “I’m stronger than this storm” and rainbows and butterflies and yada, yadas and blah blahs.
I’m going to address a topic that I don’t like to talk about for all the classic reasons, but it’s important and whether it’s just helping me get it out or even if it helps someone else by reading it, I can be satisfied with that either way.
Depression is real. It’s ugly and awful and excruciatingly painful and I hate it. It affects so many people, for so many reasons, and it can even hit a person without any reason at all.
Mine stems from change. A change that I never asked for or wanted but is nevertheless part of my daily life. A huge overwhelming part of my life that I am learning and failing miserably most days in coping with.
Please don’t misunderstand this. I am in no way stating I don’t want to live anymore. That is not the case at all. If anything I have fought harder to live this life in the last couple of years than I have my entire known existence. But that’s just it, some days I don’t want to exist. Not die, but just not exist. Disappear for a time. Just until the thoughts are gone and until my head is clear and I don’t have to face anyone or anything or answer any more questions or have lack of privacy. I want to hide until I can breathe again and not feel so angry or afraid or bitter about my circumstances.
I go from not wanting to face anything else to growing so angry I want to scream and cry at the top of my lungs until I get all the bitter poison out and I can feel like myself again.
There are times I go days without brushing my hair until it’s a matted mess of knots and tangles because I just don’t care or get out of bed just to go to the bathroom and come back to sleep another eight hours. That’s all I can manage. Between my chronic pain and the pain of heartache during all of this, I feel like a broken mess.
I have a deep faith in God, but I still battle depression. I pray without ceasing, but I still battle depression. I cast all my burdens at his feet and I still battle depression. I practice gratefulness and praise and positivity…I still battle depression.
And that’s okay.
I know that he understands my depression and my anger and my resentment. He also knows I’m working on it.
I am imperfect. I am scarred. I am terrified.
And I’m mad as hell about it.
I’ve started feeling a lot less guilty admitting all of these things to myself and others once I accepted it and put it all out there.
After all, what on earth do I have to be depressed about? I am so blessed!
And this couldn’t be more true. I am blessed, blessed beyond measure, grateful to wake up and live another day . But it’s still there and it’s still real. I get told “don’t be so negative”, “you’re still alive”, “youre back home you’re better now right”? “You’re not in the hospital, so you’re not that sick anymore are you”? Hahahahaha…..it’s not their fault really. At one time that was me. I was that person. You never really “get it” until it happens to you. Well I most definitely “get it” now. You learn to laugh it off and move on and ignore the blissful ignorance of the unscathed and healthy.
Im learning though, there are days when my anger is needed to push me further than I want to go. Because some days walking is too painful and I want to give up and go back to bed. The anger fuels me through the hurt and gets me through the daily tasks that I have to get done.
My depression is needed to grieve the loss of who I once was and all that I have endured. I’ve earned the right to be sad and cry my guts out on those days. No matter how ugly it gets, I just have to.
I need my resentment to show me where I want to be in the future and why I absolutely can’t stop trying.
I need my fear to keep me alive.
I am in no way playing the part of a victim. I’ve never been one of those. I will never be held hostage by my circumstances. I will always prove my own humanity to myself by facing down the darkest inner parts of my story.
I have always been a fighter, that will never change.
But, just know that I’m still human and there will be dark days that I just can’t answer questions anymore, and I can’t give the “I’m fines” anymore, or any of the other polite responses that are considered good manners or what is expected. There will be days that sneaky depression will be there, rearing its ugly head and I might give a quick tempered, impatient, answer. Please understand that’s a day I’m fighting my hardest. Say a prayer for me, forgive me, and we can readdress it on another day. Chances are I’ll feel terrible and apologize soon after anyway.
I have people that reach out to me and that I can reach out to on these days. But to those of you that feel as though you’re all alone. You’re not. You never have to be polite and say “I’m fine” if you’re not.
Check on your friends and loved ones. They won’t always reach out to you. Expect the possibility of them biting your head off when you do, or some days you may not get a response at all. I’m guilty of both.
Check on them anyway.
It will never go unnoticed or unappreciated.
“You don’t have to stay strong. You are allowed to break. But you’re never ever allowed to stop fighting”