Diagnosed Depression

Nelson romanticizes depression. His way of speaking, and choosing the top five, based on how depressing a post is hints to me that he’s not actually one of the people who go to bed every night with the smell of pills and water lingering on his breath.

Well, I’m here to tell you that I am one of those people, and I’m not going to write about depressing things, not going to write about bleeding roses, or bleeding with the moon, or bleeding hearts. I am going to write about how it really feels to be depressed.

First I’d like to start with all of you who actually are diagnosed depressive’s, like me who either go to therapy, take pills, see a physiatrist, or a combination of the three; this is how depression feels to me, we are all different, but this is my view of it.

Second, I am so sick and tired of pretending like depression is some great muse for all the shi…z we write on our blogs. Not every single one of us can be as depressed as we pretend to be, look at me, actually diagnosed and not all of my posts are even close to sad. Stop pretending.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten all that out of the way I’d like to tell you what depression is for me.

Every day I wake up and stare at my ceiling. My bones ache because I know today is going to be full of fake smiles, forced laughs, and disappointment like every other day of my effing life.

Somehow I manage to struggle through school, and sometimes I think my medicine works because I actually feel good, real laughs sometimes escape my chapped lips and I can’t help smiling sometimes, but as soon as the joke is told, the cold shadow of my disorder creeps back into my heart and the smile disappears.

I drive home from school while listening to music; I’m generally in the mood that the music puts me in.

When I get home I feel alright, sometimes I had a bad day so I just feel like crap and sometimes I had a good day, and I still feel like crap.

So I go in my room, pretend like something matters, read a few blogs, maybe watch some T.V. but I always end up staring at the wall, or falling asleep.

That’s one of my symptoms, sleeping. I just let my mind go blank.

It’s hard to describe what it’s often like to be depressed, I feel numb, indifferent to all that is going on around me. I don’t feel pain, or joy. I just feel nothing. But at the same time that numbness hurts and causes pain, I hide it by getting lost in movies, or blogs, or books, or sleep.

Then I’m called to action, I think that all is well, and go upstairs and try to help. But I always screw up, always do something wrong. Never do the thing I’m supposed to do and end up feeling like crap again.

So I just go back to bed, wake up for dinner, wake up for pills, occasionally see the good. And try to survive.

Sometimes though the decision to survive is not one I make. I went to the store to get stuff for my mom, I don’t have any money and forgot her card, so I used what little $16.15 I had on my card and bought what I could. She was mad at me. On the way home a cop had pulled over someone for speeding, I wanted to speed into the cop, and then get T-boned; no one would know it was suicide. I decided to go through with it but my foot wouldn’t push the gas pedal, and my arms wouldn’t turn the wheel.

See, the depression doesn’t want to just make me miserable; it wants to torture me and never let me escape the things that I so desperately need to let go of.

So, that’s basically what I go through every day.

I’m just sick and tired of people claiming depression and saying, “Uh yeah my life sucks durpadurp and then the roses bled and nothing was colorful.” If you really have depression and think like that, sorry, this isn’t directed at you. This is directed at those who think depression is a joke.

I’m not laughing.

P.S. I changed/deleted 3 F-bombs, 2 D-words and 1 S-word. I really wanted to cuss