Sometimes I want to do a virtual scream and post my real status on Facebook. It’ll never happen. The consequences would be more trouble than it’s worth. But, right now, if I could post an honest status I would post this (and it’s long)
I have depression. The black dog. Maybe you know that already. Perhaps you have depression too. There are quite a few people on here that I know about and I’d guess quite a few that I don’t. I want to tell you about it because the black dog is making things very difficult for me at the minute and I hope that telling you will help make sense of things I do. I don’t want depression to define me. Consider this the equivalent of me getting a new kitchen or something. It’s a bit of news but doesn’t entirely sum up everything about me. You may speak to someone who’s thinking of having a new kitchen and remember that I’ve just had one. Or something like that. Let’s move on.
I know I’m not special. Trust me on that. I feel like the least special person on earth. Essentially I feel kind of pointless a lot of the time. There is nothing I bring to the party that someone else couldn’t bring better. I do hate myself. Quite a lot actually. Always have. I hide it well but if I’m ever being short or withdrawn with you it’s often because I’m a bit too busy with the voice in my head telling me how stupid I am “why did you say that? You’re so stupid. Have you even asked about the other person? Course not. Just selfishly gone on about yourself and let’s be honest there’s nothing worth hearing about there”. Well, having this in my head can make conversations uncomfortable and wearing. So I avoid. Or escape. Or listen. Have you noticed I’m a good listener? It’s because I hate speaking.
I’ve lived with the black dog all my life. I didn’t realise it wasn’t normal. In recent years he has become ferocious. He takes big, violent bites from me. I find them hard to hide. I find carrying on difficult. I do have days where I repeatedly list the reasons I need to stay alive. I cried in bed the other night because I had to stay alive. Bummer.
So I’ve decided to fight this. It isn’t easy. It’s a massive distraction from life. How can I go to Tesco when I have to debate my existential existence and purpose?!?!? I’m on anti depressants. I’m waiting assessment for psychological therapy. I’m doing what I can.
So that’s my status.
Itwozhere 