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It’s like trying to run in sand. You keep pushing, but the sand absorbs all of your strength. It’s like trying to scream underwater. You can feel yourself screaming, but all you hear is a muffled echo.
I used to think that depression was something that I beat, something that I overcome. I used to think that I outsmarted it, and it was something I was stronger having beat. But lately, it’s humbled me. I grew too confident, and forgot how such a powerful force had to be respected.
I still believe that learning to be positive saved my life. But, depression is something that I must work proactively to keep at bay. The ironic part of depression is that it’s nature is to deceive you. Much like addiction, the nature of the beast is to distract you from being aware of it’s presence. It’s sneaky, and manipulative. Your own brain fools you into buying into the defective thinking. Depression makes your world slowly close in on you. But it creeps in so slowly that you don’t notice it until it’s suffocating. You look up, and your world is so confined that there isn’t any room left for hope.
Since beginning my confrontation and battle with my addictive nature a few months ago, my old friend depression has crept back in. I know he’s hanging around when I start avoiding people, and fantasize of being able to stay in bed and avoid the world for as long as possible. This is hard to decipher from my usual introvert tendencies since even when I am most happy, I prefer a good book on a Friday night to a raging party. But depressive thoughts are characteristically negative and extreme. They speak to me in my own voice, and tell me that there’s no hope for progression towards my goals. They tell me that all effort will be futile, and they only see the world in black and white.
Despite it’s frustrating nature, depression doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. It’s like an old dysfunctional friend that I haven’t seen in quite awhile. I thought it had moved away permanently, but since it’s return I realize that was an especially naive assumption. Genetic disposition and biology are some of the most pressing factors for depression. It’s doesn’t care how much money you have, who you know, or how famous you are. It has a disturbingly unbiased approach, and happens to people close to you without you being aware.
Depression pisses me off because it makes me not want to be active. It takes away everything that gives me enjoyment. It makes me not want to blog, and be outwardly expressive. It tells me that its hopeless to try because it won’t work out anyway. It tells me that I shouldn’t even start because it won’t work out the way I want it to. More than anything, it tells me that its not even worth it to have hope. And I know its wrong, but I believe it anyway.
The good news about depression is that it makes me grateful for happiness. I began taking my lack of depression for granted, and as soon as that happened it crept back in. I used to be so bogged down by depression that I was in awe of each time I was obnoxiously happy. I used to be so grateful in the moments that I was filled with inspiration, courage, and excitement. Because the reality was most of my life was filled with apathy.
The depression hasn’t been as all consuming as it used to be. I won’t let it have that power over me. It has just been sneaking in recently, and I’m deciding to write about my awareness of it. The stigma and the shame that surrounds it, much like addiction, shouts at you to not tell anyone. It tells you to be silent and keep it inside, while putting on a front to make sure people around you think everything is okay.
But putting on that front is part of it’s deceptive quality, and I’m not giving in. The truth is, its okay to not be happy all the time. That’s how life is. Change is the only thing that’s inevitable, so that must mean that ridiculous amounts of happiness are just around the corner.
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