This one's gonna be all over the place, so buckle up.
One of the things that absolutely sucks about depression is how misunderstood it is. And living in a culture that stigmatizes mental illness doesn't help -- anyone. Not those living with mental illness, not those living with them. And let me be crystal clear before we continue: I am not fishing here. For anything. I'm not seeking validation, I'm not begging for compliments, I'm not looking for advice. Especially not advice. And heaven help you if you suggest I learn to, "Choose happiness." Good for freakin' you if you can live that way. I'm not you.
For the record, because I know there are those who will see this and just will not accept that their methods are fallible, I choose the positive frequently, when my brain will allow me to do so. I give my friends the benefit of the doubt, always. I assume that I will be treated with the same level of respect with which I treat others. I find humor in almost everything, including some things that are damned inappropriate. And I have never once, no matter how bad things have become in my own life, looked around and wanted to trade my problems for someone else's. But suggesting to a depressed person that they look on the bright side long enough and that will cure them is insulting on a level that I haven't found words to describe, yet. Depression isn't a choice.
Another thing it isn't, is sadness. It's so much more than that. Sadness would be great, because at least it's something. And there is a great deal of sadness that comes along with depression, certainly. But so much of the time, depression is just...flatness. Nothing. It's looking at a gorgeous day and knowing it's a gorgeous day, and just not caring one iota, and knowing that isn't normal, and that you're broken. Depression is living with the knowledge that you're broken, all the time.
Depression is exhausting. I wake up tired and frequently angry that I woke up at all. My body hurts before I've done anything. You may have noticed that it's been almost three months since my last blog entry. I've thought about it, several times. I get ideas. I keep a list of topics for possible exploration. I have walked into our home office, looked at my computer, and walked right back out. I'm also aware that typing doesn't count as cardio. But the fact is, even thinking about trying to organize my thoughts is just too much, most days. I come up with a subject, my first thought begins to form, and my depressive brain goes to work, convincing me that no ones cares and it's pathetic to make myself vulnerable, and what if it offends someone? Depressive brains are dirty liars.
Depression is constantly feeling as if you have to apologize for being the way you are. This is something that I struggle with daily. Having to tell people that I am not well enough to do - Insert Social Activity Here - and then immediately apologize for not being well enough. Does that make any sense at all? Would I feel the need to apologize if I had the flu? Of course not. And the flu passes. Depression may pass, over time, but for some people it is just a fact of life. It may wane, but it never truly goes away. I find myself apologizing when my husband asks me if I am feeling better. How nuts is that? Really consider that for a moment. I have several people in my life who deal with similar issues and I have made it clear to them that they owe me no apologies. And I mean it. I just can't seem to extend the same grace to myself.
A once-close friend who tends to isolate explained to me years ago that although she was doing well at the time, I should prepare myself for a time when she would just sort of...disappear, and that I should be aware it had nothing to do with me and not to be offended. I couldn't imagine it, at the time, partly because she was so healthy and we were so close. And I certainly couldn't imagine being offended by something she had little to no control over. I would like to say it never happened. But it did. Sure enough, about two years later, she started to retreat. My calls weren't returned every time. We would make plans and she would break them. I would see her from a ways off, while out doing errands, and I could tell by her gait and the rest of her body language, that she was trying to be invisible and just get in and get out. I will admit I was hurt, at first, and ran through The Checklist in my mind. You know, that list you keep socked away for insecurity emergencies. Did I? Should I have? What if? Was I? It's a helpful little exercise that always accomplishes precisely nothing. Not to say that reflection can't be useful, and not to sound like I'm whipping out a bad break-up line, but this time, at least, it wasn't me, it was her. She tried to tell me. She apologized in advance and described how it would go down. I just didn't believe her, I guess.
Now I do.
Depression's death toll extends far beyond its physical one, which is heartbreaking enough. It can also be the death of friendships, as in situations like the one I described above. At a time when a struggling and isolated person really needs their friends the most, they are at their least able to be around other people. It's exhausting to try to be "on" and be everything others expect you to be, so you don't come across as the wet blanket and ruin everyone's good time. You put on a good show and behave yourself and tell your little jokes and play the role everyone expects, no harm no foul. Until you can't do it anymore and you melt down completely, and everyone says, "We had no idea." And why would they? You can't fault people for not knowing you're sick if you don't tell them what's going on. On the other hand, if you talk about it too much, you're labeled an Eyeore and people stop listening. Some people stop listening because they're jerks. Let's just say it. But some people don't know what to do, so they just shut down and leave you alone. It isn't meant to be hurtful, but it hurts.
Depressed people tend to live on the fringes. It's a side effect of retreating that, again, isn't intentional, but can be really painful. You can't fault folks for giving up after a while. If you send the message often enough that you are avoiding social interaction, eventually people are going to say, "Ok, message received," and stop including you in things. And not just events, but information. Realizing that you're not really part of a group of people you may care about deeply, even love, is heartbreaking. And it's usually something small that results in those revelations. There's a plan afoot, it's being discussed in front of you, but you're not included. A group of people you belong to (you thought) is making reference to something they obviously all know about and you're completely lost. These behaviors aren't meant to be exclusive, they aren't meant to be anything, they aren't intentional. It's just what starts to happen when you've needed so much space for so long, and people are trying to give that to you.
I will admit that my own personal experience over the last few months has prompted me to share this. And I warn you right now, this will not be the last time I will share things of this nature. I don't think my experiences are worse or harder than anyone else's problems. I don't assert that I am the only one living with this. In fact, it is precisely because I know I'm not alone that I am trying to take the mask off. I am sharing this because our country treats mental illness with kid gloves, or just ignores it. Enough already. People are dying or living less than healthy lives because they aren't being understood, or believed. We have to stop acting as if depression is a choice, and treating people who have it as if they're just not trying hard enough. We also have to recognize that what works for one person may not work for another. Meds may be an answer for one person, a disaster for another. Therapy may be a life saver for one person, and an absolute, torturous bore for yet another. But depression is real. Self-care is not selfish. And if you're reading this and you're struggling, know this:
DEPRESSION IS REAL.
YOU ARE NOT IMAGINING IT.
I BELIEVE YOU.
To clarify, I am not considering self-harm. But many are, so I'm sharing this:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK
www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
