I've come to realize that, like a great many people, I struggle with depression. I don't know what I thought it was for so many years. I hit these moments of not being able to and not being willing to participate. Sure, I function, and for that I'm grateful. I'm able to take care of my kids and my job, but outside of that I have very little. I stop doing the extras that make life more colorful. I don't go out. I don't connect with people. I don't exercise. And as it pertains to what I love to do, I don't write.
Often when I have this conversation with people, when I take the moment to share what I've been going through, I'm met with what is intended to be helpful advice.
"You should force yourself to exercise, you'll feel better for it."
"You should make yourself go out, the fresh air will be good for you."
"You should write, it'll take your mind off of things."
Again, I know it's all well-meaning, but I just can't. And when I can't, or don't, I have in the past felt even worse about myself and the circumstance I'm in. The mixed tape of self-abuse starts playing in stereo through my mental speakers. So many of you know exactly what I'm talking about.
However, this last time, this last spin on the depression cycle, I learned a few things.
I don't have to and that's okay. The people who give their heart-felt advice have found things that work for them. But those things don't work for me. And that's okay. What works for me? Permission. Permission to sit. Permission to check-out. Permission to enjoy delicious comfort food. Permission to have space.
I don't have to sing the lyrics on that mixed tape. Even though the words of self-abuse play through my head on a loop, they're just that., words. When I'm in a good place, I don't believe those words at all. In a good place, that tape is in the bottom of the glove compartment and never sees the light of day. I don't listen to the tape, because it's a shitty collection of ideas that I don't believe in nor do I own them. So, this time when I heard those words playing through my head, I disregarded them like I do music at the mall. Yeah, it's irritating, but I don't have to sing along. I put on other music, other shows, and breathe deeply right on through it. And you know what else? It's generally the opposite of those words that's actually true.
I know there's light coming. Thankfully, I know by now that it won't last forever. I'll be in the midst of it for several days and I will emerge. I'll connect with people again. I'll exercise again. I'll write again. I'll breathe deeply again. Knowing that brings comfort.
Let me reiterate, I know this is just from my perspective and what helps me. People around the world experience depression in a wide variety of ways and every single one of them is valid. I had a student ask me why we don't talk about mental health more and what we should do about it. My response was, basically, talking about it more is what we should do about it. That's why I wrote this today. Another voice, another experience, hoping to open the doors and windows so more people know they aren't in their personal battles alone and listening to that shitty mixed tape.
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