My Depression is my friend. I say that not because it’s always the best company, but because it is there when you are not. When you don’t know, when you don’t ask, when you don’t want to see me during my fits of rage or I’m functioning while I’m on my shittiest behaviour. It rears it’s head when he feels like I need company. It is with me during my darkest hour, my most welcome guest.
Sometimes, it whispers in the softest voice, how I should join him in the dark. It tells me to see the good in it and convinces me until I’m comfortable that I seek it out myself. Sometimes, it is a raging storm, rocking me to my foundation, while, with shaking hands, knuckles turned completely white, I grasp the flattest of surfaces to ground me.
My Depression knows no religion, wealth, nor education. I could go to Church everyday but my depression travels with me, bend my knees in prayer and it prays right along with me. I could have all the money in the world, but depression doesn’t spend it like me. The value of currency does not affect it. My education could give me all the titles but my depression can strip everything I know in a heartbeat when someone tells me I am not good enough.
I am not contagious.
I can be your ultimate test in patience and commitment. If you tell me you’re in it for the long haul, I won’t be offended if you give up and decide to leave. I live with myself, I’m stuck with me, and I don’t love myself all the time. On occasion, I want to leave me, too, if it is even an option. Don’t tell me you’re my friend if I come to you to vent, if I come to you because I just want to sit beside you, but you’re not having it because you’re either tired of me or you’re having a bad time yourself. Don’t take it out on me. Be honest with me, I can take it. But please, please, don’t pretend you’re okay when you’re not and you can’t be around me.
Tough love is good but know when to dish it out.
My depression is not cured by money, gifts, a pint of ice cream, a good fuck, and you telling me to ‘get over it’.
I am fragile. Sometimes, I fall apart unknowingly. When depression comes to visit me, I am suddenly struck with so much force it knocks the wind out of my lungs. The worst thing you can do is to undervalue my problems. Just because I have an education or that someone else is having it worse than me, doesn’t make my problems any less a problem. I KNOW someone will always have it worse.
PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME I DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE DEPRESSED.
MY BRAIN DOES NOT KNOW THAT.
MY DEPRESSION DOES NOT UNDERSTAND THAT.