I Am Not Depression
I have depression. I am depressed.
But I am not depression.
I am a million other things that you would see if you took the time to look beyond the darkness that plagues me.
I have a heart. Admittedly, it loves too much and beats too fast, and sometimes when I least expect it, it doesn’t beat at all. This heart I have inside my chest, it’s destined for a fall. But it’s there, hidden beneath the aches of yesterday where I’ve buried all my hopes and dreams. I dig them out sometimes to sort through the wreckage, to delve into boxes of my broken parts. There, I find the moments that lead to my demise. The tears I cried, the words I heard then gathered up and stored inside my fragile mind.
They became the only words I believed I was worthy of hearing. They defined me. I was hopeless, useless, ugly, fat... all the names, and all their synonyms were mine. I owned them. I lived them. I was destroyed by them.
It’s time to say sorry, to you.
I’m sorry I can’t find those elusive sparks of positivity you always talk about. They pass me by sometimes, fleeting, floating, flying into the vast ebony sky until they’re so far out of reach I can no longer feel them. They’re whispers on the wind, taunting reminders of what I could have been, what I could be, if only I tried.
I’m sorry depression has altered the balance in my brain and makes me believe that this world, this entire beautiful world, would be so much better if I wasn’t part of it. It’s not what I want, but it’s there, taunting me day after day, night after night. It’s the part of depression that drags me down, the part the smothers the light.
I’m sorry I cry into my pillow, and in the shower, and in the car, and every single time I’m alone. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you’ll never, ever know. I’m sorry I’m not perfect. But I’m sorry I try to be. Because what’s the point of being perfect, when you can never, ever see.
I’m sorry... I am so, so sorry that no matter how hard I try, or how many years pass, or how much I desperately want to be “normal”, depression will always find me. It will sink its poisoned talons into the depths of my soul and hold me down for eternity. But I will fight, and I will try, and I will continue saying sorry for all the times I cry.
I will fight.
But I’m sorry if I’m not strong enough to win.
If you need help, please reach out.
Lifeline AUSTRALIA 13 11 14
Beyond Blue AUSTRALIA 1300 22 4636
Kids Help Line AUSTRALIA 1800 55 1800
AMERICAN Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Crisis Text Line text TALK to 741741
Crisis Services CANADA call 1.833.456.4566 or text 45645
Samaritans UK 116 123
Childline UK 0800 1111