Have you wondered how it feels to be someone who suffers from mild depression but the symptoms aren’t that deadly so nobody gives a shit?
Hold on, this isn’t any comparison or whatsoever. Every type of depression is equal and should be treated with utmost care and respect. This is NOT a competition.
I have good days and bad. Mostly good days, but the bad ones are bad enough to overshadow the good ones by a long shot. I live a pretty, good privileged life and I should be thankful for it (which I am) but that’s not the point. I don’t cry my eyes out or have trouble breathing at random, but I still “feel” like shit most of the time. A minor inconvenience fucks up my entire thought process and creates indescribable disruption. I fall into pieces which only I can assemble back. I hear everyone say, “I’m here for you if you want to talk.” ; so where do I begin? How do I explain a lifetime of battling with anxiety and “mild” depression? How do I possibly put aside the fear of getting judged while narrating my sob story to a society which constantly disappoints and puts down every human being? Be it shaming a 3 year old for what her mother made her wear or a global female icon for getting shot and making something out of her misery. And mind you, it’s not just my gender that throws me further into the deep, dark pit of depression. It’s much bigger than that.
I love how these supportive messages begin to pop up at the death of one famous entity. As soon as that fades away, so does the empathy for the dead person. It breaks my heart that people like me who are struggling every day, sometimes just to wake up and gather the energy to live a single day without overthinking, or without having to indulge in small talk, will have to keep on handling themselves because no matter what, nobody else can understand your pain like you do, nodbody gives a shit about you like you do. It’s borderline cynical but if you put some wise thoughts to it only you can save yourself, be your own best friend. The people around you, are all good just for casual encounters.
“The ego loves drama. The ego creates drama and focuses on the drama, so it doesn’t have to feel it’s own pain”, said some profound woman on the internet.
Recently, a “friend” blew things waaay out of proportion by being downright nasty about it on social media and it took me by surprise because it was a clear case of misplaced anger and miscommunication (and because we’re not teenagers anymore.) I was upset, yes. But then I realized she was just projecting her emotional imbalance through me. That in the process of healing, she’d forgotten to live and let live. That it was her choice to stoop so low. That there are many people like her who are just bitter and can’t see beyond their own shortcomings.
While I might forgive and forget easily, I know we will never be friends again. But that’s the great thing about growing up. You have a say in who stays in your life. You can have people fuck off without it being the worst thing ever. You accept that people, both good and bad, will find ways to get out of your life when they have to. And while it might hurt now, tomorrow you’ll be grateful that they did. Pinky promise! 🙂
Because nobody tells you that losing the person you love most in the universe feels like dying. They tell you it hurts and they tell you it’s lonely but they don’t tell you that it feels like something crawled its way into your chest and tore your heart out, that inside your head you’re standing before a gaping blackness screaming ‘give them back to me’ until you choke and beg every god in the sky to drown you in your own breath. They don’t tell you that when you open your doors and look up at the stars, you can’t see them anymore, that sometimes you’ll miss them until your body aches, miss them until your heart breaks. They don’t tell you that you’ll see them in everything, everywhere, and that their pretty jacket you once snuggled on, on the chair will make you want to run until your head spins and your blood stops because if you keep moving then maybe God, maybe, you won’t see their face as clearly as the day you first met them because the image won’t have time to settle. Because you can’t hide forever. You cannot hide forever. They don’t tell you it makes you want to die. Quietly. Just … just quietly. Slip into the night with no noise or audience. They don’t tell you it kills you. And they don’t tell you there will always be a wall, an unbreachable, unending wall, that looms at the edge of all your horizons and will wake you up in a cold sweat night after night after night. They don’t tell you a lot of things, really. And you know, I’m not sure they if ought to. But you do realize that you never change, you never do. It’s just the way you look at things change. Your perspective, your attitude towards people, towards life, changes.
In my life, I’ve been lied to, cheated on, disrespected and every possible thing one could imagine. I’ve learned that you can keep going, long after you think you can’t.
You should appreciate what still remains and look forward to what’s coming next.
Well, surprisingly good days are coming. I think it’s time to be happy again.
People say nothing’s impossible but say whaaaaat? One should totally know the mantra “I can and I will”
I know this post took a major swing from emo to preaching, well, I told you CHANGE IS GOOD, CHANGE IS INEVITABLE!