Depression is an evil disease. It poisons your mind against yourself and makes it very difficult to determine whether you are behaving rationally. I, myself have been suffering from depression since the age of ten or eleven. All of the sudden it seemed as if my emotions had taken control of my actions.
Brian and I had an argument last night. It wasn’t particularly bad or life altering. It just raised the specter of depression and reminded me that it’s always there. I feel like there is this piece inside of me that is permanently broken and no matter what I do it still hurts. Brian doesn’t have a lot of patience for mental illness. He accepts that I have depression but he still treats it as if I can just wish it away. I would if I knew how. He’s very “man” about it. He wants to fix whatever is wrong and when he’s not able to make it better, he finds it frustrating. He wants it to be my choice and it’s not.
I have come to the conclusion that unless you suffer from mental illness you are almost incapable of comprehending it. It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t rational. It is not a choice. If I could wake up every morning look out the window and declare “today will be a good day!” I would. No one would ever choose to be confused and conflicted with warring emotions batting about your head.
Part of me feels guilty that I can’t make it go away. I take my medication. I use all the techniques that have been taught to me. I recognize my warning signs and take steps to prevent myself from spiraling further. Maybe I should still be in counseling but I really feel that ninety percent of the time I am completely in control. It’s just that other ten percent.
That ten percent is terrifying. In that ten percent I have had panic attacks where I have trembled and cried and wedged myself into “safe” places. I have hurt myself. I have hurt others and broken vows of friendship that cannot be reforged. In moments, I have destroyed things that took years to create. I have withdrawn from everything and everyone that I love in an effort to feel safe. I do not ever want to go back to that place. I am afraid that I will give this sickness to Jeffrey and that he will suffer from it as well. I am afraid that Brian will give up on me over that ten percent and leave me alone.
None of this comes from a rational or clear place. I am trying to find some clarity by expressing myself instead of keeping it bottled inside. I don’t think Brian will leave me or that I’m bad for Jeffrey. I don’t think that overall I’m in a bad place. I am just frightened of the reminders that I occasionally get.
Thanks for letting me vomit my thoughts all over the place. Sometimes the blog is a place for me to catch everyone up. In this case, it’s more of a way for me to journal my thoughts and empty my brain of its clutter.
