I’m not alone, for the longest time I thought I was the only one in my peer group that was stuck inside the void. Of course I had isolated myself to the point that I was the only one I saw mostly and honestly, I was ignoring me. I shrunk away from all the love at church because I didn’t want them to know, but I knew they knew, and I was interpreting their love as pity. I knew they knew because years ago for an essay in my genealogy class, Mom telling people to get sympathy for the heavy burden I am to her, and I’m pretty sure it’s written across my face most of the time. But to face them, to accept their love, to say “I’m doing well” when they I was lying made me just want to stay home, so I did.
I’ve been going back to church, and I’m hoping to make it a life-long habit from here on out. I’ve been listening to the topics of conversation, the messages between the topics and I’ve found that a lot of people that appear so happy, as if they have everything they want/need/desire are getting sucked in, stuck in the void that I’ve been in. The insidious nature of the void is that it is a palpable darkness that your eyes are for all intensive purposes blind. No one calls out encouragement while they’re in there because no one wants to be found or helped or comforted because we don’t deserve it. Or, so’s my experience. The darkness can be a blinding light to some, a red ethereal heat, or a frigid cold that burns to the touch but it is our own hell. The trouble with having your own personal hell is that no one can help you decorate it because they can’t see it. But they want to do something to “brighten” things up to help you. People brighten up your hell just by being there, not by making you explain and explain and explain how things are working inside your head only for them to look at you and honestly say “I don’t get it. Why can’t you just make up your mind to get over it?” For me, when someone would say that, I’d want to scream and throw things at them…preferable food that stains or smells bad.
This time around, hopefully my last time around, I’ve been honest. I’ve been truthful with people when a question is asked that I am capable to answer from my experience. I can’t address their experiences directly because I don’t know them. It’s like having someone explain how salt tastes to them without using the word salty. It can be done, but it’s really hard to know the words you need to describe it. By being honest about my depression, I’m hoping to rip the mask off the face of depression and stare at my own face and not be ashamed, to abolish the stigma from you, your family, your friends and those that just think you should get over it. Knowing you aren’t alone, even though your experience is unique, the concept of depression is ubiquitous is a comfort to some, a sympathetic pain to other and a reality the world needs to accept, understand and get over their issues about it.
To be honest, I’m so grateful for this depression, this time around. (yes, that’s probably the meds talking). What I’m grateful for is the opportunity I’ve gotten to stitch the tear, rebuild the destroyed and fix the broken so I don’t end up here again. I’m not sure that I won’t. I’m still very easily sent of kilter if something happens or my plans are upset in any way, but I balance out faster, I gather my strength and I push forward. Honesty and gratitude seem to be working hand-in-hand for me. I think I need to stop using this site as a pity party on ePaper and start using it to be grateful, honest and helpful for others. It’s just figuring out how to do that and making the time for it and not using it as a way to hide from the issues I’m dealing with
Stay tuned, boys and girls, it looks like things are going to change (for the good, I hope)…….