Recently, I read a blog about a girl who was in love and had depression and it definitely got to me. As much as I wrote or thought, I could never articulate how I felt as perfectly as she did when I had depression. And although we are different people going through different circumstances, in some ways, we were experiencing the same despair.
This is what she wrote..
“No one will love you until you learn to love yourself” is an easy enough phrase to believe is true. But it’s terrifying, especially when you have depression. What if you never learn? I have dealt with depression for as long as I can remember. I’ve been on and off medications, been to therapy, but it’s still alive and well, comfortable in its home in my bones. I can feel it every day, a tiny inkling that causes breathtaking emotional pain at the most inconvenient of times. My depression doesn’t care that I am in love.
She then started speaking about how she would randomly break down out of no where, quite often, and her partner didn’t know what to do or what he had down wrong. I try to forget as much as I can the things that I’ve experienced. I do remember being on medication, going to therapy, the few times I’ve attempted to end my life and the disappointment when I woke up and realize I was still alive. I don’t think you can really share those kind of moments with other people. And it would be hard to understand unless you go through the same thing. I mean, who else could understand just how it feels to want to die so badly. Who else could tell you that they felt exactly what you felt the night you decided to end it, the days leading up to it, and that they too shared the same despair and pain. Who else could tell you they too have woken up in hospitals, disappointed and drowsy. They too have had to sit in front of a psych and acted normal to avoid being suffocated in mental hospitals. The air feels differently when you have depression. It felt like there was always a fog over my your life. When you look at things, you couldn’t see clearly. When you breathe, the air seemed so heavy. And no, I’m not exaggerating. This is real. It happens. A lot of people go through it. And I guess it wasn’t until I was out of it, that I could see clearly what had happened, and could put into perspective the things that had taken place. Obviously, while I was depress, I couldn’t really tell that I wasn’t seeing things properly, that things were foggy and the air felt heavy. I didn’t have anything to compare it to, and I didn’t know any better until I got better. But to be honest, depression scares me. I was depressed for 6.5 years. And now that I’m out, I don’t feel like I’ve conquered it. I find it hard to help people with depression. I tend to steer away because I’m worried it might consume and overwhelm me.
I get really worried about it. About having to go through it again. About having to tell my future partner about it. It was such a big part of my life, how could I not speak to my future partner about it? I don’t like it how people get together but hide or leave out certain things about themselves that they’re ashamed off. I think it’s important to share these things if you want to spend the rest of your life with this person. Maybe I don’t have to tell that person about it at the beginning. Maybe I can tell it later on. Maybe I can tell it bit by bit. Who knows? Maybe I’ll never get the chance to speak about it. Maybe it will never come up as a topic. Maybe the moment I speak about it, that person would look at me differently. I mean, if you look at how far I’ve come, who’s to say there isn’t more ahead? And who’s to say I wouldn’t improve in the future. Who’s to say that one day, I’ll just be a positive and happy person. I’d be emotionally managed. I’d have my shit together. And you could look at me, talk to me, and would never know. And if I ever were to speak about it, I would make it seem like it was nothing. It wasn’t even a big deal.