I have been depressed lately. It is not something I am trying to hide. In fact, I feel more inclined to talk about it because it helps me try to understand and rationalize it.
Let me start by saying depression does not make me weak. Not by a longshot.
For fifteen years I have been online sharing a lot about me and my life. You know way more about me than I know about you. You know if you want to upset me you can insult my art or my kids. You know that. But you also know what will make me smile. I think people get this weird perception that when someone puts themselves in a vulnerable situation, it makes them weak. And none of this has anything to do with my depression.
Depression is a disease. Plain and simple. And needs to always be treated as such.
For me, depression makes me feel unloved when I am clearly loved. It makes me feel worthless when I am not. It makes me feel like the world sucks when it doesn’t. The smallest issue becomes a giant concern. And when I get this way, I cannot do much to stop it. I have to sit there and keep trying to convince myself that depression is a big fucking liar. And although I have the best case to present on the good things in my life, the jury keeps siding with depression.
If you do not have depression, you will never understand. That is not an insult to you or your intelligence. In fact, it is a good thing. You will look at me and think “what do they have to be depressed about? You have this and this. Seriously, look at how good you have it.”
And that is the point. Depression not only lies, but it is so fucking convincing. It would sell me ice cubes if I was an eskimo. I believe everything it tells me.
You do not have these battles in your head, I do. And If you do not battle depression, I am glad you do not.
It bothers me when someone tries to give me advice. I wish it did not bother me because the intentions are good. Truthfully, all I want to do is vent and have someone to talk to. I want someone to understand you do not need to take the abuse I will lash out but please accept my apology after. But you are not a punching bag. Neither am I.
Do not give me stupid exercises. I do not want to breathe. You really think breathing is going to stop these thoughts in my head?
“Well, I feel like shit. Hold on. Let me breathe. Okay, I am better now.”
And when I feel depressed, it is not you. It is never you. You do not make my day worse. And while I want you around, I kind of don’t. I want to be alone.
You are not making me feel depressed. You complimenting me does not help. Hell, you calling me fat or ugly or even degrading me doesn’t make me feel depressed. I mean, it does not help. But that is not the reason why I hate myself at that moment.
And I hate that. I truly do. Yes I go to a doctor. Yes I talk to specialists. I know I have depression. I know exactly what I have. And you are not a doctor so I do not expect you to tell me what to do. But you know what will help? Just let me talk. let me talk without judgement. Let me come to you. And if I say something out of line, call me out right away. Do not ever let me get away with taking it out on you. Because I sure as hell will not let you tell me what I need to do to fix me. I do not care about the workout or the mushroom or the gummies or the thing you saw on this show that helped someone. I do not care. Sorry.
Yeah, I sound like an asshole. You are truly trying to help. You have incredibly good intentions. I know you do. And because I am acting like this, you want to stay away. Because it is natural to think you are the reason for all of this. So my life would be better without you. Well, it isn’t.
You know how many friends I have lost because I lashed out while depressed? I was great friends with someone one Twitter for years. Then we got in an argument one day. Well, more I got mad about a situation. Was I wrong? Absolutely. Was I wrong at the time. Nope.
I apologized, he did not care. In fact, I apologized for months. Have not spoken to him for two years. Do I care? I did. But I cannot change the past. Why I do not do candy corn jokes anymore.
Are you still with me? Because I still feel like shit. I still feel worthless. You can keep telling me not to. You can tell me how much a tweet or a post or something I did for you helped you in the past. I swear in the back of my mind I am so thankful it did. But it won’t help me at the moment. Hey, wait. I did not tell you to stop telling me those good things. Just ignore me.
God I hate depression. I truly do.
But you read this whole post. You let me talk. And you are still here.
So you helped me more than I can tell you. Thank you.
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I'm always listening :)
I read the whole post. I will still be here tomorrow to listen.🐾