My depression didn’t magically appear. Its been there for my whole life. I would feel worthless.
I would remember as a kid feeling like I couldnt do anything right. If I got a B in school, others got an A. If I hit a baseball, others hit a home run. Basically I would feel like the world would be fine without me. That no one would miss me. But then I was told I was selfish. I was moody. There are others that have it much worse. Just shut up and deal with it.
And I did. The depression did not go away. I used food to numb my body. A lot of it. I am morbidly obese. Its hard for people to understand. I don’t eat an extra doughnut or a piece of cake. I eat enough food where my body feels numb. And the pain goes away. And then the pain comes back in a form of guilt. And the cycle doesn’t stop.
I hate the phrase “People have it worse.” No shit. I could lose an arm and someone lost two. I could lose my car and someone lost their house. I get it, no matter what the situation is, someone has it worse. But why should that diminish my pain.
And sure, when you are depressed, some people look at you like your petty. I see beautiful people who are depressed. And what do others tell them…”What do you have to be depressed about?
You’re beautiful
You’re rich
You have it all
No. Depression takes that away. It gives you absolutely nothing.
And everyone has a cure for it. You should try these blah blah blah that you can get at blah blah blah. And you want to tell them to just fuck all the way off. But you can’t. Because “they are trying to help.”
Trying to help has put me in horrible places so many times.
In 2018, I lost my job. Let me be a little more specific. I lost a company. A very big company with a drug addicted partner that told me he would make sure I would never live a good life again. I put my whole life into this. I didn’t see my gamily and I worked hard. And it was gone. And it wasn’t like I could just get another. It was more than that. And I wanted to die.
I wanted to die because I felt worthless. I felt hopeless. I felt alone and honestly I felt like the world didn’t need me.
And that is when I realized I had depression and not “bad moods.”
So I went to my primary. I was not ready to admit my mental illness. He gave me basic pills. They helped. Things got better than worse.
Then I went to a mental illness doctor. And I had to come to terms that I had depression.
Depression tells you that you are ugly, fat, worthless, poor, stupid, and garbage. And its convincing as hell. No one can tell you different. Have you ever had someone tell you if you need anything let them know. And when you do, they don’t help? That’s when depression laughs at you the most. And depression has a friend named anxiety who loves to tell you what to worry about. They look at your bank account, your emails, your family and give you an analysis all night that basically you suck.
And I struggle with this every day.
I decided to sell art in 2020 during the pandemic. Its hard as fuck. I promote daily and I get tons of shit. Don’t get me wrong, I have people who get it, thank god. They love what I create. And creating art helps me. It helps me more than I can explain. Writing helps also. God, I forgot how good this feels.
So yes, every day I feel pain. There are times no matter what where depression and anxiety tells me everything I do not want to hear. And the pain is not going away.
But I will tell you this. I sure as fuck am thankful no matter how bad it gets, even on my worst fucking day, that the world needs me.
And I need the world.