You see, I've been very depressed. In fact, this was one of the
worst depressive episodes I've ever experienced. It's very hard for me to write about in spite of the fact that I've written about my depression before. Or perhaps I've just alluded to it? Either way, I want to share my story now. Or at least allude to it a little less alludalish. (I like making up words.) I think it's important to talk openly about depression and other mental illnesses. We've come a long way in our perception and acceptance of it, but a lot of people, including some who suffer from mental illness, still treat it as a dirty little secret. Yup, there's still a few stubborn little clingy bits of stigma left. Like, you know the glue residue left when you peel labels off of jars, and then you try to scrape it off with your fingernails but that just spreads it around and gets on your fingers, and then dirt and hair get all stuck to the jar and it looks really gross? Yeah, it's kinda like that.
This isn't meant to be a lecture. I have my own struggles with perception, acceptance and dirty little secrets. I have a mental illness. I'm not lazy. I'm not weak-willed. And it's not my fault. These are all concepts that the logical part of my brain knows to be true. But, at the same time the depressed part of my brain struggles with feelings of shame and guilt. As if being fucking depressed weren't bad enough.
It really upsets me when people say things like "you just have to push yourself". If I had a broken leg would you tell me to "just walk it off"? Of course not. Telling someone with depression to push themselves, snap out of it, or get over it is basically telling them that they are at fault, that they are
choosing to be depressed. And believe me, it's not a choice. I
don't want to sit in my apartment, hating myself and crying. I
don't want to avoid human contact. I
don't like being completely uninterested in making things, writing things or even cleaning things. I
don't like being completely unable to do the things that need to get done. And I
really don't like all the wasted time and missed opportunities.
I'm doing better now obviously, or I wouldn't be back here. It kind of feels like I was trapped underwater for the past month and have finally managed to make it to the surface for air. Mind you, I'm still
in the water, but at least I can breathe. I'll let you know when I've reached the
Horror Movies and Skittles Stage.
(That last sentence won't make any sense until you go and read
the comic about depression from Hyperbole and a Half, which you should totally do
right now. Then you need to read all of the other comics. Just make sure you're not drinking anything 'cause you'll be laughing so hard that it'll just shoot out of your nose and all over your computer screen. Your welcome.)
