hopelesslyquixotic-blog

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

We’ve Acknowledged It, Now It’s Time For Change.

It’s no secret that in the past 10, even 3 years, mental illness awareness has skyrocketed in society. People know more about what causes depression, what causes anxiety, how people with depression/anxiety think/feel and how they view situations. Everyone is understanding and listening.

But no one is actively seeking out to be the difference they can be for those people.

Awareness is the first step and society is just that about mental illness; aware. But it can’t stop there. We can’t just say “it exists and I accept it” then go on with how we’ve always been our whole lives.

We need to step up and make a change.

We know that people with depression see one small negative thing, like their backpack breaking out of their control, as a devastation. A build-up of all these small things is what drive people to contemplate their life, to self-harm, and finally, take their own life. But no one wants to do anything to help these people.

I am that person. I am a person who thinks the world will end if everything is not perfect. If one thing goes wrong, I see everything else start to go wrong too. I try to do it all on my own, I try to rely on myself since I know no one else will even try to help me carry the weight I feel on my shoulders. But the truth is, I can’t carry it. I am not strong enough. I am not strong enough to deal with every single thing going wrong in my life because most of the time, all of those things are out of my control.

I hate interacting with people. I hate trying to be nice. I hate doing things for other people because throughout my whole life, no one has ever done those things for me. I just learned to avoid people altogether. It’s easier that way. I won’t get hurt, I won’t expect them to be nice to me in return, I won’t hope to whatever thing is controlling this universe that they will return the favor.

I used to think, “this is the way it is.” Just to worry about all my problems and all the shit life throws at me, alone. I never knew any better, until I started meeting people who returned the favors.

Let me get one thing straight, there were always people trying to reciprocate whatever I gave out to them, I just didn’t see it lining up with what I had done for them. I put everything on myself and tried being the best possible human being I could be, then, once I saw no one did the same, I isolated myself. I didn’t have a problem with it, still to this day I like being alone sometimes. We all need our alone time. But, back then, when the weight I had was slowly making me fall to the ground, I needed someone.

I needed someone to recognize that I was carrying this monster. I needed someone to recognize that I can’t do everything by myself. I needed someone to take some of the weight off my shoulders so I wouldn’t continue to hold myself accountable for every tiny thing that went wrong in my life. Once I found a few of those people, the rest fell into place.

Here’s the thing about depression, you feel alone. You feel like you can’t rely on ANYONE for your happiness because everything is YOUR fault.

You were late to work because someone blocked your car in without you knowing? Your fault. You should’ve realized it before.

Your friend cussed you out because you didn’t want to go out with them that night? Your fault. She’s your friend, just suck it up, even if she doesn’t hang out with you at the bar and just focuses on guys and alcohol.

These constant thoughts circled my brain; they weaved in and out of my ears all while I was trying to fight back saying, “but it doesn’t make me happy”.

That’s the life I lived for nine years, a monster in my brain screaming at me telling me it was all my fault, even when I knew it wasn’t.

Until I met people who understood the mask I was hiding behind.

They understood that I do things for other people so I don’t have to wallow in self-hatred if I don’t. They started to help me with the weight on my shoulders rather than add to it. They actually cared about my well-being because they were either people who recognized my agony from experience, or they just genuinely appreciated my presence, my energy, and most important, my friendship.

It wasn’t until people did this that I realized I was being ridiculous, that the monster screaming at me needed to finally cease once and for all. No lurking in the shadows of my subconscious waiting for a moment to strike at me like a venomous snake. No. Not anymore. Not when I had people around me who truly loved me, cared for me, and valued the person I was.

All of the realizations about my depression I’ve been coming to recently is because of these people. Because one person, whom I didn’t know, reached out and lent a helping hand.

Men, women, society, and humans as a species, need to start being those people for everyone.

No special treatment because we like someone more than others. No judgements because we assume things about people’s appearance.

No. More.

We NEED to start being the people everyone needs. Not only what society needs, but what we, you, me, your own self, need.

I use to not bat an eye at people who I saw struggling. I used to say, “they’ll learn when they experience it”.  I’m sure 99% of society says that and keeps on living their life since it has no effect on them. I’m sure of that just like I’m also sure that no one tries to relate to the said struggling person they pass by on the streets.

Let me put it in a more relatable scenario:

You’re walking out of your house and you see a single person moving into the vacant apartment/house/whatever next door. You see they’re alone, struggling with boxes, with furniture, with their whole entire life.

What would you do?

Would you just ignore them and say they’re alone for a reason? Or that they don’t need help, it looks like they have it on their own?

Or would you stop and take time to ask if they needed help with the bed frame they’re struggling to fit through the doorway? Help support the heavy box they’re close to dropping?

I used to be the person who would ignore them. I would just think, “It doesn’t affect me, why should I care?” and keep walking.

But because one person decided to catch the box of glassware before it hit the ground and shattered everything, I decided to be that person for everyone.

People don’t try and relate to anyone. That box that that person was struggling to carry probably had things in it that were important to them. A crystal vase their grandmother passed on to them before she died, a model car that reminds them of their childhood, or maybe it’s just nice glassware that they don’t have the money to replace. And people just walk away to let the person keep struggling until the box falls and all those memories and nice things turn into a billion tiny pieces scattered across the ground.

If you haven’t noticed yet, the heavy box represents someone’s mental health, someone’s baggage, someone’s monster screaming in their ear.

If you’ve been keeping up with my posts, you remember my first one. The very dark and disturbing description of what depression feels like. And you also remember me saying that you need to be that breath of fresh air for someone. This is exactly what I mean.

It takes one person to make someone’s horrible life, not so horrible. It takes one small, nice, gesture to make someone who hates themselves, and everyone else, to think “maybe we aren’t so bad after all”.

Negativity is a much stronger thing than positivity. It eats at human’s brains until they walk around with a strictly negative outlook on life; a negative sense of self, a negative self-image either on others or themselves.

Positivity is weak in the world today. It’s very rare that you hear someone talk about how happy something made them and that’s because we, as a human race, have pummeled everyone’s happy thoughts into the ground and said that they were selfish if they continuously talked about it, or that they only cared about themselves. But, that’s not true. Some people talk about good things because they want to show everyone who doesn’t have it as well that it CAN get better. That it WILL get better for them if they change the way they look on life.

I’m not saying go around and brag about all the good things in your life, too much makes people think you aren’t aware that life can get bad. Here’s a fact though; we all know life can get REALLY bad. We are all victims of falling into the deep dark pit they call adulting or “getting your shit together”.

What I’m saying is, it’s easier on everyone if you take the time to care and relate.

I’m currently moving into a new apartment and the girl across the hall from me has a pitbull who has it set. The pitbull, Riley, just wants to love every person that walks by, so she starts barking at them, wanting them to come see just how great she is. I live in a small complex, you can hear Riley barking from outside of the building. Does it get annoying? Yes. Does it make me mad sometimes when I’m trying to focus? Yes. But, I took the time to talk to the owner, I took the time to get to know why Riley barks at me as I walk past her on her break outside and I realized it’s not because she wants to kill me, or rip my throat out, it’s because she wants to lick my face and get pets and play. She wants to be loved.

You know what I found out when I started talking to the owner and petting Riley? She was JUST adopted from a rescue center. The owner is still trying to train her and keep her under control, and I saw this even just passing by as Riley barked at me. She calmed her, she told her it was okay, she apologized to me for her barking, and continued working with her new dog.

I don’t get scared of Riley or mad at the owner anymore when I see the dog barking at me, I see a loving girl trying to give a dog as much love as the dog is giving her. I see a girl trying to work with this dog because she knows it’s been through, what I’m assuming is in the dog’s perspective, pure hell.

I used to be Riley. I used to give so much love to everyone. I used to find a pretty flower I searched all day looking for, see someone who was upset, and give the flower to them to try and make their day a bit better. I wouldn’t care if I spent all day looking for it, I saw the other person needed something that made me so happy and cheerful more than I needed it.

I was still that person last December. I was still that person when I wrote my first blog post. I am still that person now.

Because I have encountered people who take time out of their day to try and get to know me, to try and help me, to try and understand why I do the things I do, or why I feel the way I feel, I have blossomed from a shy, introverted little girl who hated everyone, into an extroverted, caring, helpful, strong woman who sees beauty in everything.

I have realized I am not a good person just to make others happy; I am a good person because being a good person makes me happy. I see how much of an affect I have on others when I do the smallest things, like try and get to know a new neighbor struggling with a new dog by herself.

This is what society needs to realize. This is what will start a revolution for those who struggle with mental illness; not only mental illness, but those who struggle in general.

Like I said, we’ve done an awesome job realizing that mental illness is real. It is not made up, it can be treated, it can be seen with scientific tools and seen in the chemicals in our brains.

But it’s up to us if we want to continue down the path of progress. If we want to keep progressing to a better future, a better place for everyone to live together, we need to start making changes individually.

Because, from what I’ve experienced, it only takes one person to start a chain reaction.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Happiness is a journey, not a destination

Hello beautiful people!

So usually I get right into the deep stuff, but today, I’m stepping back and looking at the big picture. That’s right, the BIG picture. No more worrying about the little things; no more being terrified of the future. For once, I am looking at right now and not anything else.

I was at home the last week, my first time home since the realization of happiness in my life (another story soon to come…it’s in the editing stages so patience!) and I have to say it was a very big eye opener for me. Not only me but, I hope, for my family as well.

For the first time in a long time, I am happy. I am truly and indescribably happy. The only time I remember being this happy was when I was a little girl, swinging on the swings by herself. I soared through the air and felt it whip through my hair. I felt free.

And you know what the best part about swinging on a swing when you’re a little kid is? Being able to feel that free, but knowing you didn’t have any help doing so; No relying on anyone to come outside with you, no waiting for them to slowly walk to the swing where you want so much to feel the wind blow at your face…but can’t because you don’t know how to make yourself fly without a push.

In the grand scheme of things, I am saying I am finally looking at MY happiness. Not anyone else’s…mine.

Now, here’s the thing about happiness you need to realize. Yes, it is the best feeling in the world. Yes, it is important that you are the reason you are happy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t rely on other people and that’s what I was doing. But, I was relying on too many people for my own happiness. I put my faith in too many people who let me down. I trusted people who even the dumbest person in the world knew I couldn’t trust. I cared too deeply about the harsh, but small, things they said to me.

Example: I pissed off my roommate because I left a plate in the sink. I was in a rush. I had work and school to worry about and I knew I would put it away later. I knew she knew this too. I figured “we’re friends, she knows I’ll clean it up.”…or so I thought. Low and behold the angry text I got because, god forbid, I’m running late to work and don’t want to cause myself to be more late over a semi-dirty plate.

Here’s what I should have done, and what me, now, would do: Text her back and explain to her that I was running late and that I was sorry I didn’t put the dish in the dishwasher. Tell her I planned on doing it after work, and actually do it.

Here’s what I actually did: OMG she hates me OMG she’s over-reacting OMG this isn’t my fault OMG of course it is everything’s your fault OMG now she thinks I’m a terrible friend OMG OMG OMG. And after work forget about the dish because of all the excessive overthinking, and negative thoughts that went through my head along with it.

*grabs microphone* AAANNNDDD HERE’S YOUR HOST…ANXIETY WITH THEIR CO-HOST DEPRESSSSIOONNN!!!!

That was a joke, but in all seriousness. That is how I use to think. I use to think irrationally. I use to think just because someone is upset about a small thing, they hate me. That delusion I had of hate turned into such deep self-hatred that I lost myself. “Well of course she hates you, everyone hates you, you hate you.”

You. Hate. You.

I hated myself. I actually truly believed that because so many people told me my whole life that I was wrong, that I was a horrible person. I believed I was the most wretched person that had ever crossed this universe. Everyone I put my faith in; friends, family, co-workers, the homeless guy down the street, they led me to believe I hated myself. Now, it took me a really long time to figure out that was actually the reason I hated myself. So, instead of telling myself I hated myself over and over again, I began to ask, “But why?” Usually, my depression would start a grocery list of reasons why I hated myself. Not this time dark fog, not this time. This time was different.

After asking myself why, it was only then I realized that I cared too much for others. I also realized that that isn’t a bad thing. At. All. I had always put myself out there for people. For guys, friends, family, etc. and I always expected them to put themselves out there for me, too. I cared so much about these people that put me down constantly, who nit-picked every single stupid thing that was wrong with me, that I ended up loathing myself so horribly, and accepted that this was as good as it got, these people were the best I was ever going to get my whole life.

I eventually lost sight of understanding why they said these things.

Family, I realize now you were just trying to make me happy. You cared for me too, but I pushed you away. You were always trying to show me how to live life better through your eyes, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love and support that you have shown me. But that’s just it. I know after all those stupid fights I would get in with my family, they would always have my back when I needed them to.

The people I “cared” about wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if they saw me sobbing alone in my room. They would think, “There she goes, crying because so-and-so got mad at her for leaving a dish in the sink.” They would think it’s so stupid, so miniscule that it’s just me being overly sensitive, overly emotional...being crazy.

When they say don’t think too much, you’ll drive yourself crazy...they mean it. I kept going back to this dark cloud that was controlling my life and thinking that this all means I am a horrible person, the dark cloud whispered that to me constantly. So, yes. I was crying over a dish in the sink, but not really.

That’s the thing about anxiety and depression. They’re like magma to a dormant volcano who has fought so hard to stay in this equilibrium it has worked so hard to set for itself. They poke and prod at you, they hit you where it really burns, anxiety making you worry too far ahead in the future, depression telling you to jump to these unrealistic conclusions about yourself no matter how hard you try to fight back. They eventually hit a breaking point and you are no longer dormant, you explode into bits and pieces.

Playwrite: The Story of my Life

ACT III Scene II (and every scene in between)

Anxiety: YOU NEED TO FIND GOOD FRIENDS

Me: But she is a friend….

Depression: NO SHE HATES YOU, YOU LEFT A DISH IN THE SINK

Me: But…I’m cleaning it up later

Anxiety and depression look at each other and laugh to the point of crying because they have a plan set up where you will worry/hate yourself so much, that you won’t have energy to do it when you get back from work.

Me: Okay, you’re right. So, I should just do it now.

Anxiety: BUT YOU’RE LATE FOR WORK YOU NEED TO GO NOW!!!

You grab your keys and run out the door, as you’re running….

Depression: SO YOU’RE JUST GONNA LEAVE IT YOU HORRIBLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING?!

Me: No-I just said-

Anxiety: YOU ARE SUPPOSE TO BE AT WORK IN 10 MINS AND TRAFFIC IS HEAVY YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE

Depression: LOOK AT THAT NOW YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE FOR WORK AND EVERYONE THERE WILL HATE YOU

You, your soul, your morals, your self-esteem and, more importantly, your sanity, fall to the ground in defeat because of all the screaming inside your head. Tears burst from within.

Scene.

And that, is how anxiety and depression get what they want. They don’t care who they tear down and screw up on the way. So now that you have an idea of what went on inside my head, here’s how I came to be as happy as I am in the first sentence of this post.I stopped caring. I stopped listening. I realized that these small minuscule things are just that, small and minuscule.

After I started asking myself why I hated myself, I realized that there was absolutely no way in hell I should be hating myself. I am SUCH a selfless person when it comes to the people I care about and I cared about everyone. I started to realize the good things I did in the world. I realized I put just that much more hard work in, not to compete with others, but to make myself feel good and in the broader view, feel happy. It brought me pure joy to see the things I do make an impact on others’ lives. It made me feel happy that playing pretend ballerina with a young girl while getting my hair done gave happiness to her. She didn’t want to be told “You can’t be a ballerina”, she wanted to just BE a ballerina. And so we were.

Once you realize how happy you make other people, you begin to stop caring about what they think. You stop listening to all the rude and hurtful things they tell you. You stop hating yourself because someone you “care” so much about, hates this one small thing about you. You take a step back, you take a breath, and in return, life slows down. You begin to appreciate the simpler things in life.

Instead of being a mindless zombie on my phone while I was with others, I put it in my purse to enjoy the time I spent with them. I listened to what they were saying, and I mean TRULY listened instead of just kind of listening because another meme popped up on twitter that caught my attention.

I saw life for what it truly was. I saw people for who they truly were. I saw the bright light inside everyone trying to break free, I also saw the demons sitting on their shoulders as they casually walked past me on the street, whispering horrible things in their brain, making their bright light shine a little less. Everyone has that light. Everyone has good inside them. We are all born good people. But we pick up these demons as we bump into people in our lives. Every interaction we have with another living thing, we take on the bad as the bad is given.

That one customer who got pissed at me because I didn’t hear them say they wanted an extra shot and in the end, cursed me out for it, my roommate who got annoyed at me for leaving a small platter in a shiny clean sink, all these small, negative experiences piled up on me. It piled up until my mind broke, and I let them break me. I let these things turn my bright light, thrashing at my ribcage trying to break free, into a small child afraid of coming forward and standing up for her happiness. I let people take away my self-confidence, I let them bury me in the sand and forget about me as I waited for them to remember I was there as high tide slowly crept up on me.

It wasn’t until I realized I was on my own, that I was truly alone in this world, that I started doing things for myself. I had very little people show me the love that I gave to them and them return that love. Not only love but trust, confidence, kindness; everything. Every emotion I felt, I felt for everyone. I thought everyone viewed life this way. I thought everyone saw that the way to be happy and trust is to give your whole self to people. Once I saw that no one wanted to give their whole self to me…that’s when my metamorphosis began.

I relied on myself. I stopped relying on other people. I stopped having expectations; expectations only brought me closer to the dark monster. I realized that I was truly a good person; giving without expecting anyone giving back, and that is when my happiness flourished. I started doing what makes me happy. I didn’t care too much about what others thought about me, or how I inconvenienced their day; I focused on me.

Old me: Someone needs to clean their room. It will make them happy. Therefore, I will help them even though I have to go to the grocery store.

New me: Someone needs to clean their room. I ask if they want my help. If they say yes, then I help. I help and observe and am cautious. If they aren’t thankful for my kindness and use me over and over again for the precise reason to help clean their room…they are not worth my time.

You see, readers. This is the key to happiness. Realizing that you cannot make everyone in the world happy. I know what you’re thinking, “Okay but obviously, you can’t.” No, readers, you can’t. I thought I could make others happy just by being nice, but that’s not how the world works. At least with some people.

This is where you need to tread lightly. You cannot be giving up your happiness for just anyone. They need to earn it. If I helped someone clean their room, I took notice if they subtly repaid the favor. Examples; buying me thoughtful gifts (not just knick-knacks they buy for everyone), helping me clean my room, spending time with me without their face glued to their phone, and other very small things that fueled the light inside me. If they tried to make me happy, then they were worth my time.

But, if they continually put me down, ignored my pleas for help, ignored my grieving, ignored my self-hatred, then they weren’t worth a millisecond of my thoughts and of my time. Here’s the take-away kids: do not put effort into a relationship that isn’t worth putting effort into.

If you already understand this, then great, I am VERY jealous of you and you must be a great person. But know it takes experience and time to understand, so I know many people do not feel the way I do about this.

You may think your best friend who goes with you when you want ice cream is a good friend because they go with you whenever you want to be with them, but you need to take a step back and realize that your “best friend” may do that for everyone they meet. I saw that in about 88% of people in my life and you know what I did?

I cut them out.

I went through a social media cleanse; I removed and blocked any person whose post who made me uncomfortable, angry, upset, that made that monster who lay soundly asleep in my head perk up and start screaming at me that I was a horrible person. After I did that, I applied that to my life. I reciprocated whatever people gave to me. In hindsight, I think that’s what I did before this monster angrily woke up in my head, I just didn’t have control.

If you’re reading this and we lost contact throughout the years, I’m sorry. I really am. If it made you upset, if it made a resting monster in your head awaken, I am very truly and deeply sorry. I may not know what I did or why you don’t talk to me anymore but I am here waiting for those people to come back into my life. I was too selfish to realize the special and important people I had in my life. I thought they were just like everyone else. I thought they would use my selflessness for their own gain and that made me push them away, only irritating the monster more.

If you are reading this and still think, “No, you aren’t a good person, you just suck.” Good for you. You’ve realized what I’ve realized about the people I didn’t need in my life.  But just know, I do not give one flying fuck (Sorry for the language mom and dad).

Look, no one is here to please anyone. No one is here to make YOU happy. Only you can walk the path to your own happiness, you control the way others make you feel. Once that seed is planted in your mindset, your whole perspective changes.

So, go ahead, call me a bitch, call me high-maintenance, call me crazy, and tell me I am a horrible person. I. Dare. You. There is no way in hell I will put my happiness in anyone else but myself, so good luck trying to bring me down just to make yourself look like the better person.

We’re all put here to live. No one comes out alive, believe it or not. It doesn’t matter what you believe your purpose is, it doesn’t matter why you believe you were put here but, none of us get out of this life alive. We are forced to deal with each other on a regular basis and the only reason we struggle is because people are not focused on themselves. People will only be happy if they do what makes themselves happy. It’s a really cruddy concept to accept.

Remember when I said we are all born with a light? We are all born good people? You cannot let other people’s light get consumed by this darkness the way I did. You cannot let people tell you, you hate yourself. You cannot let people dull your light. But you can control if you dull theirs. I realized this and I realized this like a wrecking ball to the face and I have lived my life by those beliefs ever since.

I have tried again and again to find a different way; to be good no matter what, without finding a healthy way to be who I want to be. I have found that this is the only way. We all have our demons, but it’s up to us to not let those demons affect us or let our demons affect another person.

Humans are a weird population. We thrive on connection, we thrive on each other’s happiness. I thrived too much on that last one and lost sight of myself. I have found a happy balance and therefore a happy and healthy life without waking the monster snoozing with no cares inside my head and guess what.

You should too.

Only then can we ALL get to the point where everyone’s lights inside them are glistening and radiating with joy. Only then can find true peace in the world.

Do not give up. Giving up dims everyone’s lights. Do not give up on them, and do not give up on yourself. You are the only one who can bring happiness to yourself. Once you have that figured out, only then can you begin to spread that happiness to everyone around you just as I am doing now. Who knows, you may spark a friendship you never knew you were missing, you may find your significant other, you may just find that being alone is what makes you happy. All of that is perfectly okay, as long as your happiness comes first.

As long as you keep pumping your legs to lift yourself higher on the swing set, the world will follow.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Healing.

My depression has thrown me into a vortex of chaos ever since that fearful day of diagnosis. Every day I've told myself "you will get better. You will get better. Everything will be better one day" maybe so many times I even stopped believing it. I started to think I could never get better. I accepted that it wouldn't, I accepted that this is as good as it gets, and I gave up on trying to get better. I lost faith in myself and in all of the people around me. It wasn't until about 4 months ago i started trying again; I started to believe that this isn't as good as it gets, this shouldn't be at least. I'm sure you've all heard the saying "you won't get better until you want to get better". I'm also sure you've all just kinda been like "uh huh yeah I know" and shrugged it off. But here's the thing. That saying is the most truest thing you will ever hear. My whole life, or at least since I've dealt with my depression, I feel like I've wanted to get better, and I've believed I've wanted to get better but deep down I haven't believed I could get better. Like I said, I lost faith in myself, and in everyone around me. Depression is a weird thing. It not only beats you down into a pulp, it beats your belief in yourself, your hope, your dreams, everything, into a pulp. I didn't realize this until a short while ago. I never realized how fake I was going through life, how rehearsed and wrong my whole perspective was. I faked getting better. I thought "well I should be getting better, so if I act it maybe I will" but I knew deep deep down I was never truly making progress. Not until I stepped back and said "okay self, you need to stop letting society tell you what you should be doing and start doing things for you, and only you." I realized that just because society says I should be getting better doesn't mean I actually am. I needed that sense of self to finally see through the darkness clogging my head so I could start the road to recovery. Until I was true to myself, I could never be true to anyone. This includes my therapist. Being a therapist is a HUGE job. You go off of what your patient tells you, and if your patient only tells you what you want to hear, you and your patient are stuck in a never ending cycle. I thought if I told my therapist and everyone else what they wanted to hear they would think I was getting better and eventually lead me to believe I was. I regret every thought that went through my mind saying that. I've wasted ten years pretending to be better just to realize I was never getting better in the first place. But right now, at this exact moment and how it's been for a few weeks, I know I'm not pretending anymore. For the first time in my life I see myself being cured of this burden that's been on my shoulders for more than 10 years. I see myself being truly happy, being my true self, and being the best I can be. For those of you who suffer like I do, know that there really is a bright light at the end of this dark and rocky tunnel; there's hope, there's true laughter, true happiness, and true smiles. It's not just something people say to try to make us feel better, I'm literally experiencing this freedom and telling you it gets better. It gets so much better. You just need to be true to yourself and everyone around you, once you've achieved that, your whole life will fall right into place. Happiness will not be an unforgotten dream anymore, it will be reality. The positivity that has rushed into my life these past months is such a great feeling. It's like the end of a horrible thunderstorm; the sun shines, the birds sing, and the world is at peace again. Life is a weird thing, everyone. Each individual one is someone's own world and very own perspective. Once you realize that, you gain a sense of self and understanding. You're able to understand the world around you and why people may do the things that they do. You get into their head, see the world through their eyes and that understanding carries with you. All of the tension and hate you have for people is released and your own happiness is the only thing that matters. Like I said, I always thought people who said recovery is possible were only saying that to try and make me feel better. I now understand they say it because they've lived it, they've seen it's possible and they've triumphed through the dark life they've led. Slowly but surely all of this has come into my perspective. It's made me realize that everyone is going through their own dark life, everyone is dealing with their own problems and there's always a reason someone does something. My depression made me always aware of people's judgement and it made me act the way people around me wanted me to act. But here I am, sucking up the black smoke that blurred my judgement and never letting it out into the world again. Healing. Recovery. Cure. It's all possible, you just can't lose sight of them and yourself.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Weakness

Today is not a good day.

Today I feel like giving up.

Today it feels like the depression may finally win.

The black fog surrounding my head feels like it is going to eat me, chew me up, spit me out, and throw me into shark infested waters to continue to suffer slowly and painfully.

Today is one of those days where even I scare myself.

Remember those low days I talk about? Well welcome to the lowest point I think anyone can be in in this endless cycle.

You must be thinking, “Well something must have happened to make this a horrible day, right?”

No. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary has occurred today except for the fact my self-pity and depression are eating me alive.

I recently got a tattoo that is a very cliche quote from Shakespeare - “And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

I’m not sure what it represents for me. I thought it was because people underestimate how strong I can be based on my size, but now I’m wondering if it’s because I’m not strong, but because I wish to be.

Yup. There it is. I’m not strong. My mask however, is very very strong. Every once and a while I have these horrible days filled with self-hate and contemplation of my future - to me it’s normal.

See, every day is like a prisoner digging at their cell wall with a plastic spoon planning an elaborate escape. Each day the wall deteriorates, gets broken down until finally the inmate breaks through.

Hello readers, meet my inmate. Its name is depression.

I put up a thick wall between me and my depression and each day it kicks at it little by little, chipping away my confidence, my self-worth, my sanity, and my overall well-being. It so badly wants to escape its cell I locked it in and eventually it does.

This is why depression is so dangerous. The small kicks at the wall are tiny minuscule things that no normal person would even bat an eyelash about. But me, I wince at the pain. I close my eyes and breathe, put on a happy face because I know small things like people denying me shouldn’t bother me. And when I shrug them off, they don’t, but it still leaves a chip in my wall.

Over time that chip turns into a dent, that dent turns into a crack, that crack widens and lengthens until finally, everything falls apart. The only thing left is the ruble that was once my happiness.

And I start over.

All the work I had made in those days towards fighting this monster is forced into reverse. It’s like it lunges my body back in time and laughs so menacingly at me I crumble harder than my wall.

Today, my wall broke. Shattered. Blown to a billion pieces. And here I am laying in the ruble waiting for the darkness to consume me.

I have been fighting this for ten years. TEN. YEARS. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. For ten. god. damn. years.

I am so tired of fighting. I am tired of thinking I’m finally going to win only to get knocked out again and again and again. On these days, it’s hard to find a reason to keep going.

I sound really dramatic, I know I do. It also sounds stupid, but this is what depression is. A constant battle 24/7, 52 weeks, 365 days a year and I feel defeated.

What more can I do?

I’ve gone to therapy, I’m on medication, I even have someone who builds me up instead of breaks me down, finally, and I can’t even enjoy time with them - I just push them away.

“Don’t give up” I know you’re saying in your head. Luckily for you I’m not the person to give up. It’s the easy way out, god would it be so easy, but I care about the people around me and know how it would hurt them and just thinking about that makes me so devastatingly unhappy that it’s not an option for me. Ever.

I’m just here to let everyone know, it gets insanely difficult to fight.To keep going, to stay positive, to not let my own thoughts burn me like acid.

And I know I am NOT the only one who feels this way.

That’s my biggest problem, I know I am not alone, but it feels like it. It feels like no one will ever understand and that no one can help, we all have our own different perspectives in the end, so how can someone other than me see my life through my own eyes? It’s impossible.

I also know, on the outside you can’t see my suffering. You can’t see the emotional pain I feel on the inside. That’s what depression looks like, it looks like nothing. It looks like a well-functioning 5 foot redhead who smiles at people and laughs at her own jokes. It looks like someone who loves what their studying but in reality, is failing at it because it’s not what she really wants. She doesn’t know what she wants. It looks like someone who has their life together, but is actually filled with cracks, and chips, and scars.

I started this blog to let people know how people with depression feel, I also started it for me. A way to show the people I care about, and who care about me, what I am going through, and a way to call for help if I need help.

I am a very stubborn person. I don’t like to ask for help, and I definitely don’t like getting it. I’ve always been on my own with my problems, that’s what I’m use to.

But I can’t do this alone anymore. It’s too much.

So here I am, asking for help (not asking to talk about everything I’m going through and everything that’s on my mind - I don’t need that). I need positivity, encouragement, tiny things that will make me know I’m going to be okay one day. I need to believe I’m going to be okay one day...everyone does.

I don’t know how many people read these posts, or if anyone does at all. But if you do, I need a sign. I need to know I’m not alone here. I need to know I have support. I need strength to keep fighting this thing and to not give in. 

I know I’m loved, I know I have so much to live for, even if I don’t know what my future holds at the moment, but on days like these, I alone cannot convince myself.

Be my breath of fresh air.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Depressive Love.

Love.

It can make you do stupid things, think stupid thoughts, and maybe make you happy.

Relationships are a huge part of the social world, hell, it seems like it’s what it revolves around. He likes her, she likes another guy, the other guy likes another girl who likes the first guy mentioned in this sentence. It’s messy, it’s hard, it’s frustrating. Even if you’re in a healthy, happy relationship, there are those times where it gets really hard.

Especially when you love deeply, and fully in every relationship you have.

I don’t know how other people with depression deal with relationships but I know for me, once I’m into someone I will sacrifice almost anything for them. I feel like people with depression give love more than they get because they know what it’s like to be upset, they know everyone needs someone there even if they don’t ask. Maybe I’m right maybe I’m wrong, I can’t say. But I do know one thing; We’re the ones always getting hurt.

It takes a lot to trust someone with your heart, especially when the dark fog is engulfing it. When someone agrees to a relationship, they agree to take on your dark cloud, your anxiety, your small annoyances – everything. And for most people they are always in over their heads and don’t realize it until it’s too late.

Depression is insanely hard to deal with so having another person have to deal with it is ten times harder. It makes you angry at small things, it makes you cry over them not wanting to come over, it makes you get so attached to that person because you know, no matter what, they have your back.

At first, it’s fine. They start to get the feel for how your moods are, they understand when you don’t feel like getting out of bed and are always there to comfort you when you ask. You keep the bad days mostly to yourself though, can’t have the new guy thinking you’re crazy, right?

Well, you can only hide it for so long. When those dark days creep up on you, it’ll affect everyone close to you. You lash out if your roommate leaves one single dish in the sink when the dishwashers empty, or you get down because someone didn’t want to get food with you, of course you think, “well, why would they? I’m not fun to be around, I suck, etc. etc.”

If you do those things to your friends, imagine what happens with your significant other.

They’ll try to help you, give you advice on what to do but they don’t understand you feel like you’re trapped in a deep, dark well with no way out and the water is rising and rising and rising. Nothing they say makes you feel better, advice doesn’t help, it makes you angrier because you don’t want a lecture about stuff you’re doing wrong, you already know what you’re doing wrong.

Then fights happen. “I don’t know what else you want me to do” “I’m sick of having to be there for you every time you’re upset”. The fog gets to them. They realize it’s too much to handle and they don’t know how to deal with it or deal with you. In return, you’re left to fight this by yourself because yet again, no one understands.

I know being in a relationship with me is probably the most frustrating thing for anyone. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’ve driven all these guys I liked or loved away. I love too deeply. You might think, “What’s the problem with that?” Well, you become selfless. The other person matters more to you than yourself, you make sacrifices that the other wouldn’t even imagine doing. You go above and beyond with everything because to you, they’re perfect. I mean, they put up with your fog and you want to thank them every chance you get because you know how hard it is, you know what it does to people, and they willingly take that on. Why wouldn’t you try to do everything you can for them?

But the other person doesn’t have this perspective. They don’t realize what they’re doing for you, they don’t love as deeply as you do. They make less sacrifices, they don’t know they need to be there every time you say you’re upset and need comforting. You come out with the short end of the stick every. Damn. Time.

No one realizes what being in a relationship with someone with depression is like. We’re high-maintenance people, seriously, we have such high expectations for people because we feel like we need them 24/7. When people can’t handle your high maintenance personality anymore, it ends horribly. Always broken hearted, always in tears, always hoping that one day they understand you loved them with every fiber of your being and that’s just how you are.

I’ve always dreamed of the perfect relationship, even when I was little. I never thought it would be this difficult. It sucks. It really sucks. Who knows if I’ll ever find someone who will never stop putting up with my stubbornness, my high-maintenance, my sassiness, and most of all, my depression. Who knows if it’s possible for anyone not to crack under the pressure I put on them.

All I know is I won’t stop looking for someone who can handle me. I deserve that. I deserve the best. To me, I think that is the best thing I’ve learned from my different relationships. Whoever or wherever you are, thank you in advance and I’m sure you can’t wait for the hurricane of a storm I call Ally. I know I’m looking forward to it.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

"Goodbye stranger, it's been nice, I hope you find your paradise"

I feel good today. I really do, so I decided to make a different kind of post. All of my past ones have been about trying to understand the low point of depression and how to help those feeling those low points, but today's different. Today, I wanna focus on the high points. There's days/moments where you have a force field up against that dark fog, and nothing it says or does can penetrate that shield. Today is one of those days for me. It's a really great feeling. You feel like you're on cloud 9, and nothing can get you down. There's so much euphoria I honestly get teared up I'm so happy. These little moments of clarity and well-being is such a small victory in my world and I try to soak it up as much as possible since this is such a rare thing. Yes, it's called depression. Yes, it sucks. It sucks SO much when it's consuming you. So when it's not, it feels like a whole new world. An awesome world, actually. Your judgement doesn't feel clouded by a dark fog, you don't feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, you just feel relief and that is such a breath of fresh air for people with depression. I don't really have any advice or concepts of understanding for anyone who doesn't experience this feeling, I just wanted to let everyone know, there are good days. But it's also very scary. At any moment I know I can get sucked back into that vortex and it'll feel ten times worse. It's a very bittersweet thing to feel and something everyone around me, and other people, to be conscious of. It could happen like a flick of a switch where we go back to that low point. But in the mean time, I'll bounce with every step I take, I'll smile at the classic rock blasting in my ears that reminds me of dancing around with my dad as a kid, I'll smile at cheesy commercials where someone gets happiness out of a bowl of salsa because I never know how long this lasts. So if you're reading this today, don't laugh when I'm randomly smiling, smile at the pep in my step, my true laughter, and my horrible singing. Today, my smile is not fake. It's true, and it's happy. Depression can't take control of me and my thoughts 24/7, so have fun while you can you dark monster. I'll be here deflecting every jab you take at me. Until we meet again.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Just because it’s not physical, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist

The number one problem with mental illness is that people can’t see it from the outside. They can’t see the scars, the cuts, scrapes, and bruises that you feel inside and to them, that means you can handle it and it’s not urgent.

But guess what? That is FAR from the case. If a diabetic was having an episode of off kilter blood sugar, would you even stop to think if they needed help? I don’t think so. If someone fainted in public would you just stand there like “Eh, they’ll be okay, they’ll wake up and feel better.” Not. At. All. So why should a mental illness be any different?

It’s obviously not as evident when someone with mental illness is having an episode. We don’t break out in hives or spew blood everywhere making everyone come rushing to our aid. We use our words, our emotions, our pleas, and most get shrugged off just because it doesn’t seem serious. No one has automatic aid response to words, they have emotional responses which gives them time to ponder about what’s being said and what they should do. There isn’t that knee-jerk reflex to run and catch the person who fainted, or to grab a towel and put pressure on a bleeding wound. You know how that makes us feel? Like it’s not important, like our problems don’t matter, like our illness doesn’t have urgency.

And dear God, is that the wrong thought everyone has.

Mental illness is just as important as a physical illness, if not more urgent. Since it’s so subtle and blind it can literally kill someone over time without knowledge. How many times have you heard about a suicide on the news or from friends and heard, “We never saw it coming, they seemed fine.” Probably a lot, and they probably didn’t see it coming and the person probably did seem fine. They were probably told, “You’re just having a bad day, it’ll be better tomorrow.” or “Cheer up, it’s just one small thing in your life.” Imagine that being said to a cancer patient, seems silly and horrible, right? That’s because it is.

We get told those things when reaching out for help over and over and over and over and eventually we just stop asking for help altogether. That is the deadliest thing that can happen to someone with mental illness. I am so serious about this. This is what leads to self-harm, suicide, isolation, loss of friends; doesn’t seem so insignificant now, does it?

We realize no one will help and we get trapped in our own heads with those horribly negative thoughts and that takes a toll on us. It makes it hard to get out of bed, to enjoy anything, to live our lives, and then we get further criticized for not experiencing things and for being so negative and down all the time. It’s a dark cycle to get sucked into and such an easy one to stop ourselves. Results? Suicide. Cutting. Feelings of worthlessness. Anything that takes away the pain.

The next time someone is asking for your comfort, understanding, even just presence, stop and think about what could actually be happening to them. Don’t shrug it off, don’t say you’re too busy to attend to it, you aren’t busy enough when a physical tragedy strikes right in front of you so why are you busy enough when someone’s blind illness is slapping you right in the face?

Do I wish depression had physical ailments? Honestly, I do. It would make getting help so much easier and avoid being trapped in the dark fog gasping for air. That’s not me begging for attention, I’m not wishing I gushed blood every time I felt severe depression or an overwhelming sense of anxiety, I’m just saying, I know a lot more people would be willing to help me out if that happened, and wouldn’t think twice, even once, about it.

It amazes me that people still compare physical illnesses to mental illnesses and say one is more urgent than the other. Guess what they have in common? THEY ARE ILLNESSES!!!!!! They are equally as urgent, they equally need immediate help, THEY. ARE. EQUAL.

I dream to live in a world where society finally realizes this and everyone can get the help they need, when they need it.

Mental illness is real. Stop acting like it’s a fantasy.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

My Story (A Decade)

I’m not really sure when I was diagnosed with depression, the exact date I mean. I know I was diagnosed sometime in January in 2007. So I’m making this my 10 year post.

It’s crazy to think I’ve been dealing with this for 10 years because 7th grade seemed like yesterday. I was tired all the time, I was disinterested, I felt like I was fading away from the Earth altogether. It’s kind of laughable actually now that I look back at it (kinda), I was so angsty. Like, Blink-192, Rise Against, all that hardcore rock music always blasted in my ears so I could escape from reality.

I only remember the day because it was suppose to be when my choir concert was and I remember everyone asking why I missed it the next day. Of course, out of my 13 year old stupidity, I forgot to take the hospital bracelet I had on and a ton of people saw it. I feel like the whole middle school went crazy after that. There were rumors I went to an asylum, rumors I had gashes in my wrists, which was not true at all. But you know how teenagers love to talk about people.

Anyway, what really happened was that I was thinking about suicide. One of my friends was worried about me and went to the school counselor which then I had to be taken out of school and go to the hospital to get psychologically checked out and whatnot. I remember feeling so angry at my friends for going to someone. I just wanted to be left alone because alone felt like the only thing that would make me happy, and I use that in the loosest term because it is called depression for a reason. I know now it was because they cared about me so much. So I was diagnosed with severe depression and that’s where my life spiraled. It didn’t help that everyone in my school thought I was a crazy psycho who was going to go all Jack the Ripper on them. That made middle school the worst years of my life, and honestly, probably the reason I hate my home town and 98% of the people who live there. You know what they say, you find your true friends in the hardest of ways…or something along those lines.

The worst part, and I mean THE WORST part about all of that was that my best friend’s mom restricted her from seeing me because she thought I was going to be a “bad influence” on her. Really? You hear your daughter’s best friend is diagnosed with severe depression and your first reaction is to pull them apart?

So there I was. In my awkward phase and forced to live with this awesome pal we call depression while everyone in my school was afraid of me.

Anyway, I somehow survived middle school with a few friends, I would go to therapy once a week, but I still felt the cloud lurking in the back of my mind.

So the medicine came in.

Depression medication is a bitch, especially when you start it. There’s so much trial and error, side affects and switching to find the perfect dose and kind. But it helped. I felt the dark cloud slipping away and I felt like I was finally getting some clarity after what felt like a lifetime. There were times I knew the fog was trying to not let me forget it was there, and I didn’t. I always felt it but it was easier to push it away. Well, some days it was, some days it wasn’t.

I know throughout these 10 years battling this neurological disease I’ve lost a lot of friends because of it. People get terrified if you tell them you have a psychological disorder, even if they know you aren’t a dangerous person because of it. It’s really hard to see some of the best friends you had look at you differently after you confide in them about depression. It’s a look I never thought I would get, nor that I thought would make me feel like I was crazy/weird/apparently a killer to my middle school, but it did.

Getting far far away from my high school and hometown definitely was a positive thing for me. It was a fresh start, no one thought you would murder them (bonus!), and it was nice to get away from all the harsh judgement. I found my sorority and hundreds of girls I knew I could rely on. These girls changed my life (very cliche I know but still true!). I remember telling about my story about why I stayed in it and why I joined it, the words “For the first time in a long time I am very truly happy because of this” came out of my mouth along with tears out of my eyes.

The day I saw the chart that showed where normal levels were and where my levels were and the word’s “severe depression” were said to me, I never thought I would be happy. There have been bumps in the road, but there are with any sickness, but the bumps have made me live and learn.

To those of you I lost to this thing, I’m sorry. To those of you who ran away because of this thing, thank you. To those of you who are always there and understand me, thank you. Everything has brought me to this laptop typing this post and I wouldn’t change any of it. The point to treating depression is to help you cope with everyday life and that’s exactly what I am doing. Coping. I don’t really know if I’ll ever be ‘cured’ from this burden, but I do know it brings out sides of people I am thankful to have seen.

Don’t be ashamed of your story. We all have one and all have different ones. This one just happens to be mine.

Here’s to 10 years battling with depression, and hopefully not many more to come.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Depression + College

College is a time where you go to start your adult life.

You get to find yourself, find friendships that will last a lifetime, maybe even a boy too (but boys suck anyway so hopefully you don’t spend too much time on that) and start to learn what you love, or hate, to do in life to make a career of it. It’s a great time if you know what you’re doing, or maybe even if you don’t because these days it seems like 95% of my classmates and friends at college don’t, and you get to learn that it’s okay.

That is, if you’re normal.

Remember that fog? College isn’t so great to it. It’s almost like they’re conniving cats plotting together on how to screw you over in the hardest way possible, just for their own amusement.

Trying to find yourself? Good luck, the fog is thicker than the Amazonian basin rain forest that you probably won’t even be able to find your car keys.

Trying to find friendships to last a lifetime? The fog will tell you everyone hates you and in return you push them away.

I won’t even get started on boys. They suck to normal girls so it’s not a good combo with the fog. It usually scares them away anyway (blessing in disguise?).

Finding a career? Well, you might get there but, you’ll think you’ll be doing fantastic then the teacher slams a test in front of you with a big fat F on the top in red ink and everything you thought about your awesome career shatters to pieces.

College is hard in itself, but when you have this monster in your head already telling you you’re worthless, it gets impossible.

You will try your hardest to stay focused, keep up with your social life, and get good grades but every time you get up, there that stupid fog is to consume you and slam you right back to the ground.

You could study all night, like literally all night, and I’m not talking about the kind of studying where you say you “studied for like 10 hours” but really you just copied your notes for 6 hours, not really absorbing any material, take laps around the library for 45 mins, then talk with your friends for 2 hours.

I mean like hardcore, focused, flashcards, memorization, getting all of the sample questions right for 10 hours with coffee breaks maybe every 3 hours (whoever thought it was a good idea to put a Starbucks in a college library should either get an award or a punch to the face) and STILL get a failing grade on your test.

And let me tell ya, one crappy grade on one small test feels like the weight of 1,000 African elephants sitting on your dreams and slowly crushing them. Look, I’m not saying only people with depression feel this way, I know everyone feels a sense of “okay I quit life because I failed an exam” but for people with depression, they don’t keep going. They don’t brush it off in a few days and work harder. It lingers with them, it keeps reminding them “You failed this test, you’re stupid, how are you ever going to graduate, or even pass this class, it’s not even worth it anymore you suck anyway” and the worst part is, they believe it.

It’s like you’re forced to carry 1,000 pounds on your back and each time you get a bad grade 1,000 more pounds are put on until you finally collapse to the ground in exhaustion, curl up in a ball, and say “you win”.

Those bad grades, and I’m not even saying a failing grade, just anything you personally think is unacceptable, pummel your motivation into a fine powder and blow it away until it’s nothing. It’s like no matter what you do nothing will change this thing weighing you down.

Your motivation, self-worth, self-confidence, everything, is picked away like vultures on roadkill.

The best is when people try to say “it’s one test, you can make it up on the next one” but by then it’s too late. The domino effect has already started. You stop caring, you stop going to class, you stop studying “because you’re gonna fail anyway” and then you’re in a hole too deep to climb out of.

Then there’s the worst part; you hate yourself because you gave up. You tell yourself you’re stupid for doing that and you should’ve just kept going when in reality it’s hard to stop drowning when something is forcing your head under water.

It’s even worse when people just think you’re stupid. It’s no secret everyone asks everyone what they got on a test and once you’re around a group of people secretly doing a hair flip and saying “OH MY GOD I GOT A B MY LIFE IS OVER” while you’re sitting there staring at that grade that’s not even a C, you start to compare yourself to everyone. In return, everyone thinks you’re bad at what you’re in college for. After your second C or D, you just say you know you failed after you walk out of the test so you aren’t embarrassed when people compare with each other. This is when the fog hits you like a ton of bricks. “My friends are so much smarter than me, why am I studying the same material in the same way as them and still come out like a chewed up potato?” (I swear I call myself a potato all the time). It’s the biggest confidence crusher that could ever happen to someone.

You question every single thing in your life after that. “Was I even smart enough for college? Am I too dumb for my major? Should I switch to a major in under water basket weaving? No, I would probably find a way to fail that too.” I’m not even joking, these are the thoughts that race through your head and it’s so tragic. It ruins your life.

College is difficult. I underestimated the difficulty of it. Now here I am on my 5th year of undergrad with plans to graduate up in the air because depression keeps stomping on me. I honestly think it made me change my major my junior year because I was just done feeling like I wasn’t good enough for the biggest passion I had in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I love what I’m studying now, but I always think back to if I had stuck it out. Would I be less ashamed of myself? Would I have gotten through the hell everyone calls Organic Chemistry? Who knows. I know I’ll eventually graduate, and go on to do something I love, but the path to get there is a dark road I’m forced to travel with this gloomy companion constantly telling me I’m stupid.

College is difficult but, depression makes it feel inescapable.

[hopelesslyquixotic-blog]

Pilot.

“I’m fine”.

The two words that will get anyone off your back when you’re not, in fact, feeling fine.

The two words that can hopefully get you through another day when people constantly ask how you are.

The stupid lie you tell everyone because it’s easier than saying “Well hey, I’m depressed and here’s why....”

Most people will shrug off those two vague words because it’s a sign to leave you alone so you can continue to wallow in your own self pity silently. It’s easier that way, right?

Wrong.

This is for the people who think it’s okay to walk away when someone blurts out those rehearsed, robotic lines, because that’s just what they are; rehearsed and robotic. Me, and anyone like me, beg you, DO NOT walk away and assume we’re “okay” or “fine”.

9 times out of 10 we are not fine. We are incredibly and indescribably not. fine. We’re continuously telling ourselves we’re a disappointment, a failure, a horrible person because the chemicals in our brains are, in simple terms, all out of wack. I could sit here and type out a complicated explanation for this horrible disease but I’ll spare you the neuroscience headache I get just from looking at my textbooks.

This disease can be described like wind. You can’t see it like a rainstorm, but you can definitely feel it like the ripping winds of a category 5 hurricane tearing through a small city and I don’t say that lightly. Basically, just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there and not insanely real, and god, is it insanely real.

The worst part of it? Being unable to describe any of it to anyone outside of your own thoughts and perspective.

This isn’t just a “depressed because a boy didn’t text you back depressed”

this is a deep, dark, consuming depressed which is very hard for those around to even begin to understand. It’s like a fog has invaded your head and constantly whispers horrible things through your body with no intent to stop. It feeds you with negativity until you ooze it through your pores, unable to wash it off. The fog traps you and consumes you until you’re unable to breathe or call out for help. You don’t dare call out for help or else the last clean oxygen you use to scream will be engulfed in the black fog along with the rest of you and your thoughts.

And let me tell you, it is not easy to escape the grasps of this stupid dark cloud, it almost feels impossible. Hell, it does feel impossible.

Only until someone, anyone, comes to save you.

See, that fog, that’s the “I’m fine” coming out of your mouth repeatedly and every time someone ignores that, the more you gasp for air.

It takes one, ONE, undeceived individual to open up that seclusion cell of fog to break you free for a moment which is better than no moments at all. That one person who sees through your transparent response could be your breath of fresh air to keep on going, to keep fighting this dark monster trapping you.

So, if you’re reading this, be that one person. Be that one person to give someone a little light to their dark. It can be the difference of laying in bed all day, aching from the horrible things being whispered in their ear, and getting up and living their life.

I’m writing this because I think too little people understand what it’s like to suffer from depression and too little people underestimate the effect of sitting down and actually talking to someone, listening to someone, understanding someone, who has that fog lurking around their head.

You can be someone’s fresh breath of air, all it takes is a little concern rather than just assuming they don’t want to talk about it or that they can get through it themselves. Because more than likely, they can’t.