This post is public on purpose.
I often feel like depression is the only thing I talk about lately. Maybe because, lately, it's one of the only things weighing on my mind. It's always there. I can dull it with medication and therapy, but it's something I have had to come to terms with. I have depression.
Different people have it manifest in different ways. For me, it comes with an unhealthy dose of paranoid feelings and anxiety about every little thing. I can't sleep. My brain won't stop. When I finally drift off, a tiny noise jolts me awake. I think people are talking about me. I think people are saying bad things about me. I push people away first so they can't do it to me. I alienate. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
The thing about depression is that it is exhausting. For the sufferers and the people surrounding them. I feel like Eeyore. I try and make a conscious effort not to talk about myself so I don't accidentally slip up and mention something "bad", something people wouldn't want to be friends with me for. I try and smile and act normal. After all, no one wants to be friends with Depresso-Gal.
Some people can't handle being around me. Some people don't know how to act, what to say. Some people tell me to get over it, just be happy, others are worse off, you should feel bad, what have you got to be unhappy about.
Well, fuck me. I'm cured! Praise the deities. Because what I really need is an extra-large dose of guilt, along with everything else I'm ... WAIT, I'm already feeling guilt. And then feeling guilty for feeling guilty. Circle.
This post is public because, even though more people are talking about it, there's still a stigma around it. We're still told to get over it. People still don't understand. People still don't empathise. I want to be honest, without the usual defense of self-deprecation. I am not ok right now. But I want to be.
Different people have it manifest in different ways. For me, it comes with an unhealthy dose of paranoid feelings and anxiety about every little thing. I can't sleep. My brain won't stop. When I finally drift off, a tiny noise jolts me awake. I think people are talking about me. I think people are saying bad things about me. I push people away first so they can't do it to me. I alienate. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
The thing about depression is that it is exhausting. For the sufferers and the people surrounding them. I feel like Eeyore. I try and make a conscious effort not to talk about myself so I don't accidentally slip up and mention something "bad", something people wouldn't want to be friends with me for. I try and smile and act normal. After all, no one wants to be friends with Depresso-Gal.
Some people can't handle being around me. Some people don't know how to act, what to say. Some people tell me to get over it, just be happy, others are worse off, you should feel bad, what have you got to be unhappy about.
Well, fuck me. I'm cured! Praise the deities. Because what I really need is an extra-large dose of guilt, along with everything else I'm ... WAIT, I'm already feeling guilt. And then feeling guilty for feeling guilty. Circle.
This post is public because, even though more people are talking about it, there's still a stigma around it. We're still told to get over it. People still don't understand. People still don't empathise. I want to be honest, without the usual defense of self-deprecation. I am not ok right now. But I want to be.