The Bloggess said it best. Depression is a lying bastard.
Iâ€™ve found myself struggling with another â€œepisodeâ€ lately. It started a couple weeks ago â€“ sneaking up on me when I wasnâ€™t paying attention. I donâ€™t think youâ€™d really notice by looking at me. Iâ€™m still fully functional.
But those close to me did start thinking I was acting a little off. I was being weird(er).
Because the lie depression tells me is that Iâ€™m not good enough. Not good enough to be loved. Not good enough at my job. Not good enough to be a mother. Not good enough as a wife. Not good enough to ever make it as a writer.
Depression is a lying bastard.
Iâ€™ve often felt judged by the worth of my work. That if only I could just be a little betterâ€¦everything would be ok.
Iâ€™ve alreadyÂ told the world this disease runs in my family. So Iâ€™m not going to be ashamed. Iâ€™m fighting. Some days the fight is harder than others.
This isnâ€™t something that just happened pop up and say hello this week. This is not the result of a single event. If only it was that simple. Because depression knows. If it takes you by surprise, youâ€™ll be shocked into a fight or flight reaction and go all bad-ass ninja on its ass. Instead it sneaks up behind you. Enveloping you in a warm embrace, tightening its stranglehold around you with every breath.
I fear abandonment. I fear isolation. I fear rejection. I fear the white flag.
But I know how this game goes. Depression â€“ if you want a game of capture the flag, Iâ€™m in. And youâ€™re going down. See, Iâ€™ve got a team. Iâ€™ve got a team of friends who love me. Theyâ€™re the ones who answer loudly when you say, â€œWho cares?â€
And I know Iâ€™m not alone. I know there are others out there playing this game. Know you are not alone. Even when we appear to have our happy face.
Someone may tell you theyâ€™re struggling. Understand thatâ€™s a good thing. Because it means theyâ€™re fighting. Depression is not a personality flaw. It is a disease. And itâ€™s treatable.
Life is not rainbows and unicorns. Sad things happen. Bad things happen. But these do not cause depression. And I, for one, will not let them define me. Iâ€™m calling you out. I know what youâ€™re trying to do to me. So Iâ€™m not staying silent.
Your move, you lying little bastard. Your move.