There’s nothing wrong with being depressed. It’s something that has been a part of my life for years, and sometimes it’s worse than others.
I know many, many, many people who suffer with depression and live with it everyday.
With that being said, being depressed does not make me weak, it makes me human.
There are times of year, like this time, where, for sake of being dramatic, the darkness rears its ugly head and presents itself as an ugly, scary, dark demon-sounding voice in my head. It tells me nasty, mean things. It makes me believe them.
The scary demon sits on my chest and weighs it down until it’s hard to breathe. It keeps it’s hands tightly around my throat so there’s always a lump and it’s hard to swallow. But you go about your everyday life because you can’t shut your life down because this evil demon wants to be a pest for the time being.
Depression is not always tears and staying in bed for days. It’s usually laughing and learning to live with the temporary numbness.
There’s a stigma around depression…it’s not always negative, but it’s not usually supportive. When people find this out about you, you can actually see the pity fill their eyes. They don’t know what to say or how to act, so it’s awkward.
Maybe they tell you their time dealing with it, or maybe they say you’re just sad and you’ll get over it soon. No matter what anyone really says, no one can really, fully, grasp what you’re feeling.
My depression doesn’t define me, or who I am.
Just because I feel this way now, it doesn’t mean I need you to try to cheer me up. It just means to let me feel it and let it pass. Because it will pass.
I’m not weak, I’m just depressed.