I’m not “secretive” about my depression, but when I tell people I suffer from that and anxiety, I pray I don’t get “that look”. You know the one. It’s the tilt of the head and the eyebrows pinched together accompanied by the look that you are a broken person. Yes, I’m a fucking broken person. So fucking what? I have cracks and chips and sometimes like right now, those cracks are coming undone. But you know what? I’m no different than you or the person next to you. Sometimes my cracks and my chips make me interesting and a lot more understanding of other people who are afraid of their cracks and chips. Sometimes I wish my cracks and chips were more permanently settled and glued together better.
My depression isn’t defined in black and white. There are many shades of gray in there, so many different shades that I can rival Home Depot’s paint section. My grays are the harder colors to deal with. When things are black and White, I can point and say that this or this is triggering my depression right now. But the grays, they are harder to explain to my family and loved ones. That’s when I fear the looks or thoughts they are having about my depression. I don’t ever want to see them look at me and seeing me as broken. That is why sometimes I wish I could just be normal. Depression can make me feel lonely and that I don’t matter.
Sometimes when I am in the place I am right now, feeling lonely and that I don’t matter to the people who matter to me, I have to struggle to remember who I am. Who I used to be. I have to remember or struggle to remember that I am not shades of gray all wrapped up in sadness. There is a person inside me that has a sense of humor (though sometimes a bit twisted – in a good way). A person who knows things that are so random, it’s amazing. A person who loves music and movies and books and really loves to laugh and smile. But today, I pray that people don’t look at me because I fear that what they see is this sad person who should be avoided and left alone, no ignored is a better word than alone. I fear that if people see me right now, where my head space is, that instead of wanting to talk to me or smile at me, they would choose to ignore me which sets off this spiral of believing I don’t matter.
Depression is such a twisted illness to deal with. You don’t get a fever or a rash to say that you are dealing with it. What you get is this special room in Hell that has your name on it and you have to deal with it on your own. It’s this private war in which you battle against yourself. Thoughts become bullets and words become wounds. It is a thief, it has stolen everything from me. Everything I had and leaves me with doubts. It makes me forget that in my black and white moments, that the world is colorful and I have to see that.
You know, you know you will be okay, but the problem that depression leaves you with is that I feel awful. I know people love me, but at times like now, it doesn’t feel like they do. I want to do something to make me feel better, but I just don’t know how to do it. I want to be well, I want to say that I have put so much behind me, but times like now, I feel like I am stuck in quicksand.