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terselylove · 4 years

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Depression...

My experience of dealing with social anxiety is a feeling of overwhelming fear when interacting with individuals I wasn’t comfortable with. I was unable to look people in the eye when speaking to them, and struggled to keep a conversation going. I came off as both extremely quiet and shy, as well as rude, which anyone who knows me well knows I am the opposite of.

During this period of my life my self-confidence was at an all-time low, and I felt disgusted every time I looked in the mirror. I stayed away from people as much as I could, and felt I made an embarrassment of myself whenever I went out in public. I constantly had a voice in my head saying “Why would anyone want to be friends with you? You are ugly and pathetic.”...

I love summer. Lighter evenings, longer days, warmer weather, summer dresses, perhaps even some sun if we’re lucky. Generally speaking, as seems to be common with most people I speak to – when the sun is out, I’m in a better mood. However, as someone who also experiences periods of depression, I’ve found that this isn’t generally the case when it comes to my mental health.I’m fortunate that I’m currently in a much better place at the moment but, when I think back to a few years ago, I found the summer months to be an immense struggle.When the clocks sprung forward, it all felt a little bit daunting. The things I’d usually look forward to about the change in seasons now served as reminders that I really wasn’t ok.The lighter evenings and longer days meant more time counting down the hours until it was dark enough to go to sleep. The warmer weather meant more plans to cancel and, as a result, more excuses to make up. I couldn’t even muster up the enthusiasm to decide what to wear each day – something which would ordinarily bring me a lot of enjoyment – and so the summer dresses stayed at the back of my wardrobe.Perhaps depression is a little easier to understand in the winter. It’s dark, it’s cold, most people are spending evenings at home not really doing much. If I was having a particularly bad day / week / month, it didn't feel so wrong to get home from work, change into my pyjamas and just go to bed.Yet when summer rolled around, it seemed as though everyone was out and about having the ‘best time ever’.

And then there I was, struggling to get out of bed.For someone experiencing depression, it can be difficult to watch those around you enjoying themselves. I'd mute group chats so as not to be met with the constant barrage of plans, I'd excuse myself from after-work drinks, and I'd invent reasons not to attend BBQs and family gatherings.“But it’s such a nice day…” people would say, “you should get out the house, it might cheer you up."Yes it was a nice day but, whilst their words were well-meaning, they simply weren't helpful. I already felt as though I was wasting my summer and I knew I should get out the house, but it just didn't seem possible. A nice walk on a sunny afternoon might do wonders if I'm just having an 'off day', but depression is so much more than that, and a sunny afternoon isn't a cure.Depression doesn't care about the weather, your weekend plans, or the birthday coming up that you'd do anything to be able to enjoy. It doesn't think to itself "summer is here, time for me to disappear for the next few months."

That isn't how it works.I'm in the fortunate position of having friends I could be honest with. Friends who would still keep inviting me to things 'in case I felt up to it' and didn't judge me when I stopped replying to messages for days or weeks on end. They'd suggest shorter periods of socialising that felt a lot less daunting, and remind me that they were still around if and when I felt up to going out.In more recent years, I've managed to enjoy my summers without the weight of depression casting a shadow over them to quite the same extent, and for that I'm incredibly thankful. I think my own experience has also made me more aware of how others might be feeling, and I'd encourage anyone who thinks a friend might be struggling to try to understand and have a little patience.

Some people understand it, some think it’s an attention call. For me, depression is like that pile of laundry that you don’t want to show in your Instagram pictures. I never want to show my pile of laundry to the world, I want my life to seem happy and put together, as if I folded and put away all my laundry right out of the dryer.Ever since high school I have suffered with extreme depression and anxiety. I can defend the issue for hours and hours, however I get embarrassed when I feel sad. I get so embarrassed when I am sad and those around me do not understand and treat me as if I’m crazy.Typically most of my life I’ve always just been called dramatic when I’m upset. It has become one of my biggest triggers, because most of my life I haven't had that fight to defend it. I just, quite simply, let it eat at me.Depression can be the hardest when others just don’t understand you. I get sad for no reason so often that I’ve created safe spaces. In our current home, my safe place is my bathroom floor. Probably about at least three times a month you can find me locked in my bathroom on the floor, crying. The lock on that door is the only form of power I feel I have at that moment.

I see you.

I share this because it’s real, I share this because everyone has that pile of laundry.

I know everyone may not have depression, but everyone has something hard they’ve experienced, everyone has something to share and everyone has something to relate to.

Many times I have found myself on that bathroom floor contemplating life and how to make it past that very moment, will I? I have to say how thankful I am that I haven’t followed through. Life is so hard. Sprinkle on some depression, heck, dump it on - and life is now even more hard.Please don’t ask me how I can be so sad I could contemplate suicide. Because honestly I do not know, nor do most people in that situation. How did we make it to this moment? What did I do to deserve this sorrow?You never know who is hurting. Those who are, we often are the most resistant, waiting for a hand to be held out for us to grab onto as the pressure of our mental being closes in on us.Check up on those who are quiet, those who check up on you; maybe conversation is being sparked due to their need to communicate. Let’s talk about our hard times, it’s healing, not embarrassing.So, here’s my laundry pile. You’re not alone.

Depression is not an emotion - it's an illness

Ah, mental health stigma surrounding depression. The worst that's been said to me in all these years having depression is:"Don't go and have a moment on me!""Don't quit your job. I know your job has been making you feel depressed but you're being stupid. You haven't tried hard enough.""Is that all your depressed about?""Stop being ungrateful and take your Great Aunt's advice!"

Please, stop.

This is not me being lazy, ungrateful or selfish. This is me dealing, sometimes suffering, with depression. This is my demon running its black toxins through my head, poisoning my thoughts and feelings.

Depression is not an emotion, it's an illness. A completely and utterly illogical illness. Just like with colds, for example, some colds can just be a little sniffle, sneeze, etc, while some colds can completely wipe you out and keep you bed-bound for x amount of time. Whether you have a mild cold or one from hell, you still have a valid cold. People with the strongest immune systems can still be affected by them.

From an outsider’s point of view, sure, they would be able to see the positive things going on in your life. However, when depression strikes, for me at least, it feels like a part of my brain has turned off the switch to be able to enjoy things. If it's really bad, I'm unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel with whatever I'm dealing with. I can also feel like a shell of a person sometimes. It's as if my brain has temporarily sucked up my personality and misplaced it somewhere else. I'm there but not there at the same time.

I don't choose to do this, depression is basically trying to tie me down in a chair at the cinema, forcing me to watch its fake "reality" tale about how my life will always be rubbish, dark, etc and how I'm worthless. Sometimes I can fight it off, but other times it can catch me off guard and I believe it for a while. Depression, by the way, is one hell of a liar.

The best way I can describe the switch being turned off is while you can see the beautiful colours of the world, I only see black, grey and white. My favourite meal in front of me is suddenly tasteless mush. My favourite TV show/YouTube channel is changed to, what feels like, a very boring presentation about something I've never been remotely interested in. Going out with loved ones can feel like everyone is spinning around me in fast motion while I'm sitting there in slow.

Depression is one of the worst things I have ever experienced, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Thankfully over the last 9 years I've learned to differentiate my depression thoughts from my healthy thoughts. I know my depression is just trying to make me watch a fake tale about me and my life, like how I described earlier, but I know I can beat it each and every time it knocks me. Depression might be strong but I'm much, much stronger.

Please do not judge other people's struggles and do listen to what they have to say. Their mountain may be a molehill to you, but everyone is different and everyone’s feelings are valid. Please, please always remember that.

For a long while, I've been having issues with mental health. I remember asking my mum one day years ago if hearing and seeing things was normal and her response still sticks with me. "You're too young and don't know what REAL mental health problems are."

At the time I was incredibly depressed, anxious and scared of myself and what I might do. Whenever I tried to reach out and ask to see someone for help because I was seeing things, she always gave an excuse to dismiss what was going on, like I needed more sleep or I needed to "stay off that phone!". I just wish she might have listened a bit more, instead of brushing me off as lying, or getting angry and impatient with me. If she had been more supportive, I would have felt more capable of handling myself during my bad episodes.

Considering that not even my own mother would believe me, I truly felt alone and thought that no one would listen to me and brush me off as liar or even a fake. It made it hard for me to reach out for help or take care of myself in the ways I needed.

Now that I'm in my later years of university and I'm in a relationship, I've had to be truthful to myself and acknowledge that I do have issues that need help with. It's taken me even longer to learn how to trust people, that people will reach out to help me if I ask for the help I dearly need. That I won't be told I'm too young or it's because I'm tired or because I'm on my phone too much before going to sleep.

It's taken me years to realize that I need help and that no one but me can choose whether or not what I'm dealing with is real. I don't need someone to compare their own experiences to mine and deem my cry for help as valid or not. But if I had a parent that believed me and took me to someplace where I could've gotten the help I needed, I think I would've been able to cope better with my conditions now.

Some people fail to realize that mental health doesn't discriminate against age and sadly for me it was the person I looked up to most that failed me.

I never know how to explain depression to someone. It’s so different for everyone and comes in so many different forms. Some people describe their depression as a weight that holds them down, ever-present and demanding of their time. Others describe it as a shadow that looms in the back of your mind, always taunting and jabbing and trying to tear you down. Some days, you just have thicker skin. And then sometimes, depression is described like drowning. It’s wading in an ocean of poison and barely catching your breath before you’re dragged back under.

I don’t think people understand that depression is constant. Some days it doesn’t feel as heavy, it doesn't tug and pull as hard. And other days, it knocks you down before you can even get out of bed.

I am always fighting this constant battle with myself. I may smile and laugh and seem happy, but know that, somewhere, in the back of my mind I'm struggling. The happy interludes, the in-between where the weight doesn’t feel as heavy, are simply vacations from the reality that is my depression.

It makes me feel like a failure, no matter my successes. I feel worthless and like I’m a burden on everyone around me.

My depression is a beast that lives inside me. It whispers horrible things in my ear, tells me that I am waste of space. And all the while, I have to smile and pretend I’m okay.

That life isn’t beating me, no way. I’m too stubborn for that. I have to pretend that there isn’t some rabid animal inside of me, clawing to get its grip around my throat and snuff out my life.

People who don’t have depression don’t understand. But they can still be there for people like me. When they say something that scares you, don’t yell. Don’t get angry because you don’t comprehend how their mind works.

My mind is a scary place. I shouldn’t need to open up and spill my darkness for your compassion.

Support people with depression, even if you don’t understand. Just be there.

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