People say they understand. That they get it.
And some people do.
But some just don’t.
Depression isn’t just being sad. Depression isn’t just laying in bed in tears. Depression isn’t just hating yourself. Depression isn’t just loss of motivation.
Depression is so much more. Depression is a monster that lives inside your head.
And it never really leaves.
Yes, depression has to do with all the things mentioned above, but you can’t just leave it at that. Depression is different for everyone.
This is what it is like for me.
I think the, for me, it’s hard to talk about depression because…I have had a good life.
I had both my parents, friends, a great home, and even though our money situation wasn’t the best, my parents fought to keep us happy. So you can imagine the heartbreak my mother felt when she discovered the truth. I had depression. Even worse, when it started with her.
Well it’s not really her fault, but the things she spoke to me is what started my thought process that invited the monster known as depression in.
When I was 12, I moved from where I had grown up. Where I had all my friends. Up until then, I didn’t really need to make friends. They were just there. That’s not how life is.
I learned the hard way.
Year 1. Friends. They move on. No friends.
Year 2. Same story, you think you have a friend until they move on to better things and you’re back at square one.
Year 3. A new friend. It felt like before, in my old home. We called each other best friends. It was amazing.
Year 4. Like every friend, she moved on. But it wasn’t like before. It ended in what felt like total betrayal. No more talking, just completely ignored. “It’s all your fault.” That’s what they told me. “You were too mean to her.” “You were too crazy”
“She had every right to remove you from her life.”
When I brought this to my mom, young me expected a movie response, “You’ll find better friends. It wasn’t all your fault.” I was met with a much different answer. “Well, you can be mean sometimes.” “Well you were a little crazy, maybe you should try and calm down”
It was all my fault.
Depression sets in.
Everything is my fault.
I looked back at all the friendships that ended. My fault. Why else would I lose so many friends? I had come to a solution.
When I told my mom how I felt, she brushed it aside. I confided in my best friend, she said I was being dramatic. “You’re not depressed. You’re too happy to be depressed.”
So, I thought I was being ridiculous. I looked happy, because I should be. My life was good. I’m not depressed.
That’s what I told myself.
Years passed. It wasn’t getting better.
I thought I was being stupid. I thought I was messed up. I kept a smile.
When I was 17, I had suicidal thoughts. I pushed it aside, I thought it was stupid.
When I was 18, I almost committed suicide. It sounds crazy, but I remember it clearly. In a fit I threw my head under a dog bed of all things. I held it down so tightly that there was no room for air. It wasn’t until my heart started beating and that I couldn’t breathe that I let it go. I kept it to myself. I was just emotional.
Shortly after I started self-harming. It started as something as simple as biting, so that there were no scars. But it progressed further, and now I see scars everyday. I thought that I was being stupid. I thought that everyone would think I was doing it for attention. I kept quiet.
It wasn’t till I convinced my mom to let me go to a therapist that I was first told that I wasn’t crazy. She didn’t brush me aside. She didn’t tell me I was too happy to be depressed.
So what is depression?
It is sadness, but much more extreme. It is lying in bed with tears streaming down your face, but there are scars that go along with the pain. It is hating yourself, but it’s because you believe that everything about you is a mistake. It is loss of motivation, but it’s only because you believe you’re already a failure.
That’s what it is for me.
I can be and look happy. I can be proud of myself. And I can feel loved.
But there is always a monster ready to pull me back into complete loss.
But what’s the point of all this.
I’m still here.
I’ve cried, I’ve cut, I’ve wanted to die. But everyday I stay. Everyday I fight.
You can too