I hate that "Depression hurts" commercial. I always found it condescending and stupid and unrealistically optimistic about the wonder drugs. The commercial, as "bleh" as it was, had one thing right. Depression? It. Fucking. Hurts.
It's not in the obvious "Oh, look, a bruise," sort of way, but in an all over, all the time, constant waves sort of way. Personally, my waves happen at night and before work. I cry. A lot. And can't figure out why or how to make it stop, but I cry and cry. I pull myself together, and go to work and function as well as I normally do, I excel. And then I come home, and either try to think my way out of it, distract it with tv, or try to sleep. But it always comes back. Always turns back on, and I'm starting to realize that maybe I can't fix myself.
Maybe we can't fix ourselves alone. Maybe the friends we collect, the books we read and the stories we tell ourselves, maybe those are the ways, the "normal" ways, we mend our broken little selves. Some of us, the stronger of us I think, sometimes need more than stories and books. Sometimes we need something just as strong as we are. Sometimes we need something stronger.
I tend to be everywhere. I tend to be everything, to everyone. I'm a sister, a best friend, a confidante, an excellent employee... I'm a girlfriend and a daughter and sometimes I forget to be there for my people, the people who have claimed me as "theirs." More often than that though, I forget to be there for myself. And I'm finding I really, really need to be there for myself, even if that means being there by finding someone better than me to diagnose, find and fix whatever this dreadful, painful thing is.
I don't really talk about it. Not to anyone except W, and even then it's more of a rambling, long dissertation about life and morality and philosophy and all the things I picked up to fix myself. I can't really say "I'm sad," as that doesn't explain it. I can't say "I'm miserable," as that doesn't really say much either. If I had to describe how I feel I would say I feel lost. Confused. Stuck. And stupid, that I can't figure a way out.
So... I'll be trying to seek help soon. Convincing myself it doesn't make me weak or less of an adult is the hardest part, but I have to fix it by calling in a professional.
I don't know if many people read my blog. I don't know if anyone really ever listens to me at all. But if they are reading, and if they do listen, and if they are going through something similar, something that needs a professional, a specialist, I want them to know something.
I'm a superwoman. I do everything I can, for every one I can. I am a great best friend and sister, I'm a pretty cool daughter, and I think I'm a really dope girlfriend. I'm funny and smart, and I have plans. And this one bad thing doesn't define who I am unless I let it. I am all those great, cool, dope things. I am also drowning in this bad thing. It doesn't make me less dope, less cool or less great. It doesn't make me weak. It doesn't change who I am. And it won't change you either, unless you let it break you down, unless you let it drown you.
And I don't know you. But if you're reading my blog, or listening to me, I have to assume you're not only awesome, but smart. And let's face it, we need more awesome, smart people at one-hundred percent in this world, right? Be at one-hundred percent. Be smart. Be awesome. Be who you are without the pain. Find the help, make the first step.