What My Depression Is

I wanted to blog for some weird reason, but now I'm finding it hard to know what to say. As self-centered and "woe is me; look at my pain" as I know I can be, I'm leary of posting it online for my interwebs friends to see. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about me. So, I'll come clean and explain it the best way I know how, and hopefully it won't push anyone away.

I have chemical depression and social and general anxiety disorders. My depression is genetic; it in no way stemmed from an abusive childhood or traumatic event. I've had these anxious and depressive episodes since I was a child. I remember them vividly. There is a fine line between acknowledging that these conditions affect every day life and using them as an excuse for everything. From what I've experienced, most people see it as the latter. There is no use arguing with them. If you haven't experienced it yourself, you can't know.

Trying to speak in rational terms with those living with these conditions is pointless. I'm afriad I may not have explained it correctly during a Skype chat with some friends. I didn't want to confide in them, because I didn't want them to think me weak, childish, or ungrateful. Unfortunately, that is exactly how we can seem when having an "episode," as I call it. I am very grateful for all I have, but when those moments of depression hit, there is no rational thought, there is no "talking one off the ledge." There is only despair, and no amount of reassurance will break through that. It's like being bound by invisible, irrational chains. I was watching a show on Discovery Health Channel once, and a young teenage girl about 13, I think, was explaining her difficulties. She said, "I want my friends to know that they can trust me. I'm not a bad person." I admit - I cried for her. She is so young to know that feeling. I hesitate to let my new online friends into that part of me for that very reason. I don't want the people I've come to care so much about thinking they can't trust me or that I'm weak, that I'll go into an episode and be the downer in the group. My family doesn't get it; it's hard to believe anyone else would.
Sometime in the past year, it occured to me, "You're not your depression; you're a person with depression." It sounds cliche, but the difference is a big one. You live so long with something that you come to define yourself by it. For years I've thought of myself as a depressed person instead of "a person with depression." Semantics, I suppose, but mentally, to me, it makes all the difference in the world. Now, the kicker is trying to hold on to that realization when I since triggers and on-coming episodes.

Ultimately, what I want you to know is that you can trust me, that I'm not always out for attention because of my "afflictions," that I'm not as ungrateful or irrational as I can seem. I'm a good person, though I wouldn't go so far as saying normal, but that's another story altogether. Ha ha. It's something I have to live with, like people living with diabetes or incurable diseases. If I go M.I.A, it is probably because I'm having an episode, am trying to work through it, and don't want to bother others with it. I've lost friends because they couldn't see what my problem was, couldn't understand it.

All I can offer is that I'm working on it, trying to see through the cloud. Right now, I'm finding that the episodes are hitting harder and closer together. To clarify, the depression never leaves; I shove it to the backburner in an attempt to function on a daily basis. Inevitably, it always comes to the forefront, i.e. an episode, stronger and harder to ignore. I'm at a point now where I'm looking through a fog, a fog that keeps getting denser. The denser it gets, the more my brain wants to numb itself. It's that numbing that interfers with life, getting things done, trying for what I want. One day, I'll do it. I'll learn to not get rid of it because it's chemically a part of me, but to learn to be stronger than it is. I can only hope I haven't burned too many bridges by then.