10 Things Depressed People Wish You Knew

10 Things Depressed People Wish You Knew

It's not because we're "not trying hard enough" — and it is not glamorous.

1. It's not because of other people.

Depression is a knot in MY heart that, although may have been made heavier by the strain of bad relationships, has resided there for quite awhile. What I need from people I love is for them to understand that they are not the reason why I am depressed. What they do and do not do does not make or break my depression.

2. And...there is almost never a “reason.”

I definitely know my spells of blues are often set off by certain triggers... But ultimately these triggers are not what cause my depression, or necessarily what I am depressed about. I honestly usually do not know what causes it. It just is.

3. Tasks that should be easy and painless are exhausting.

Getting ready for work feels like climbing a fucking mountain, and actually going to work, well, that's Mt. Everest. Going out? That gets old pretending to have a good time, when I'm really just fucking tired. But I go out anyway, because I must try.

4. My depression affects every area of my life.

It affects my relationships, my family, my jobs, my grades, my weight...

I have to make a conscious effort not to push the people I love away because I feel so undeserving of them...That would not be fair to them or to me.

Work and school are made increasingly difficult... the ability to concentrate is watered down by the dark cloud over my head.

I constantly gain and lose weight because of my change in eating habits. Sometimes I do not eat enough, sometimes I eat way too much.

5. I am always on a pursuit for temporary fixes and distractions.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I have met some neat people on my pursuits. I have had some fun times on my pursuits.

And in these pursuits of temporary happiness, a sense of hope often arises within me that perhaps I'll find something a little more permanent.

The problem is that I usually don't.

I want to fix myself independently. Maybe this is a problem.

6. I always feel heavy and tired.

I am sluggish and slow. I feel like I'm treading through water all day.

7. Things that are normally important to me don't seem to matter. This breaks my heart.

I used to love so many things. I know somewhere deep inside of me that I still love these things...but with my depression, I literally just do not care. News that should be exciting and wonderful gives me no reaction. It seems that I am always disinterested and distant. Contrary to how it may appear, this hurts me and I WANT to care. I try to care.

8. It kicks me when I'm up.

When things seem to be getting better, I am almost seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, my depression sneaks in again. It is something I must constantly fight in order to try and maintain that little bit of happy.

9. It makes me bizarrely emotional to see other people happy, because I so intensely miss the beauty of happiness.

Every time I go to church and see a cute little family or a happy old lady, I literally weep once I get into my car after mass- I sob...ugly cry, drool, snot, the whole nine yards. I am not sad because it is sad, I am sad because it is beautiful, I am sad because I remember when seeing such things gave me such a profound amount of joy.

10. Contrary to how it may sometimes appear, I am ALWAYS trying to be happy.

Sometimes, the bare minimum is more than enough...I must acknowledge the bare minimum's strength and sparkle, because it is a step above nothing which is where giving up boldly resides.

And sometimes, when the annoying girl next to me is complaining that she got a B on ONE fucking test, I just have to breathe and pat myself on the back that I even WENT to class that day.

And sometimes, even when I want no one to look at me, I demand that they do (via red lipstick and cute shoes) because I used to think that I deserved it.

And sometimes, when I feel very dark and think "what's the fuckin point anyway?" when it's the time of night where I'm supposed to take my medicine, I swallow that Zoloft whole.

And sometimes, even when I've found that it is redundant and I would rather do just about any other activity, I make myself go to therapy anyway.

I am ferociously working on finding the light.
"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists... it is real... it is possible... it's yours.” - Ayn Rand, "Atlas Shrugged"
Cover Image Credit: Pexels

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An Open Letter To The Girl Trying To Get Healthy Again

"I see you eating whatever you want and not exercising" - Pants

Dear girl trying to get back in shape,

I know it's hard. I know the hardest thing you may do all day is walk into the gym. I know how easy it is to want to give up and go eat Chicken McNuggets, but don't do it. I know it feels like you work so hard and get no where. I know how frustrating it is to see that person across the table from you eat a Big Mac every day while you eat your carrots and still be half of your size. I know that awful feeling where you don't want to go to the gym because you know how out of shape you are. Trust me, I know.

SEE ALSO: To The Girl Trying To Lose Weight In College

The important thing is you are doing something about it. I'm sure you get mad at yourself for letting your body get this out of shape, but life happens. You have made a huge accomplishment by not having a soda in over a month, and those small changes are huge. I understand how hard it is, I understand how frustrating it is to not see results and I understand why you want to give up. Being healthy and fit takes so much time. As much as I wish you could wake up the day after a good workout with the 6 pack of your dreams, that just isn't the reality. If being healthy was easy, everyone would do it, and it wouldn't feel so good when you got there.

Remember how last January your resolution was to get back in the gym and get healthy again? Think about how incredible you would look right now if you would have stuck with it. The great thing is that you can start any time, and you can prove yourself wrong.

Tired of starting over? Then don't give up.

You are only as strong as your mind. You will get there one day. Just be patient and keep working.

Nothing worth having comes easy. If you want abs more than anything, and one day you woke up with them, it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as watching your body get stronger.

Mental toughness is half the battle. If you think you are strong, and believe you are strong, you will be strong. Soon, when you look back on the struggle and these hard days, you will be so thankful you didn't give up.

Don't forget that weight is just a number. What is really important is how you feel, and that you like how you look. But girl, shout out to you for working on loving your body, because that shit is hard.

To the girl trying to get healthy again, I am so proud of you. It won't be easy, it will take time. But keep working out, eating right, and just be patient. You will be amazed with what your body is capable of doing.

Cover Image Credit: Stock Snap

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Trying Not to Drown

He has a decision to make: her friendship or his depression.

He is drowning. But he is not drowning in water or quicksand or any other tangible substance. He is drowning in his thoughts, which is the thick black tar the clings to his brain. It multiples quicker than cancer cells, toxifying the body, consuming itself. He can’t breathe under the crushing sludge of “you’re not good enough,” “you’re not doing enough,” “you are not enough.” It weighs him down, stitches his skin to his powder blue bed sheets. He is not going to get up today. It has been decided. If he were to get up now, he would surely ruin today with his presence.

Perhaps he was being overdramatic with a dash of self-obsession. Truth is, the world could care less about his inability to get out of bed. He can’t decide if that’s worse.

He turns to look at his phone for the eleventh time in his very short span of wakefulness. The time is different, but the reminder is still there: April’s Birthday Party. He tosses himself away from the phone and its mocking glow. April used to be his best friend until approximately two weeks ago, when he royally screwed up by trying to kiss her. He got rejected, of course. And if he had just left it at that, everything would have been fine. But everything is not fine because once again he had self-destructed, like he did anytime someone got too close to him. He’s tried unsuccessfully (and thankfully) to self-destruct their friendship before, and it never stuck. But this time, this time he knew exactly what to say after the kiss/rejection that would really feed her biggest insecurity, which was the fact that her mom left her when she was five years old.

He curls into himself. He feels like pond scum. Why did he say something so cruel? Why does he need to keep everyone away? Because he doesn’t deserve her? He never thought he deserved someone as fiery, determined, and passionate as April is. She firmly believes she can change the world and is stubborn enough to do it. He flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He silently asks it to have mercy on him, but it stares back indifferently.

He doesn’t know how he got to her doorway, let alone how got out of bed. But he’s here, maybe because some sick part of him wants to heap on more punishment. Or maybe because the sane part of him is still trying to fight for a chance at redemption. Or maybe that’s the crazy part of him talking? He shakes his head. Best not to dwell on it, or his thoughts will drown him right there on her doorstep. He knocks timidly, part of him (maybe the sane part, maybe the crazy part) doesn’t actually want her to hear it. She does, of course, because April has the hearing of a moth. It’s a little-known fact that moths actually have better hearing than bats. He is full of useless facts like this. He also knows that on Groundhog Day back in the late 1800s people originally hunted and ate groundhogs. But that isn’t important at the very moment, when April opens the door and sees him cutting up space with his boney shoulders and his painfully awkward attempt at a friendly grin. “Happy Birthday, April.”

She crosses her arms in a cartoonish way and juts her hipbone out like a weapon. “I’m still mad at you.”

He looks at the ground and mumbles to it. “Oh, okay. Well, I just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday.” Awkward pause. Awkward pause. “I’ll leave you alone forever now.” He starts to turn away. But she stops him with a hug.

“You know, I can be mad at you and still love you at the same time, you dork.”

He is not expecting this, and as a result he doesn’t return the hug right away. His hands are doing the equivalent of a car that doesn’t know whether or not to speed up or stop at a yellow light before it finally settles on a soft halt behind her shoulders. Before he can really enjoy the embrace, she steps away. “Besides, now you can spend all sorts of time making it up to me.”

He smiles for real this time. “Gladly,” he says, grateful that the sludge in his brain has not scared her away and all the more aware how close he was to losing her. He decides at that very moment that he is going to keep trying to swim instead of allowing himself to drown.

Cover Image Credit: medium.com

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