It’s been a while since I’ve posted. More than 2 months. It’s not like there has been much going on to keep me busy. More that I’m struggling with a very serious lack of motivation. Even though the worst of my severe depressive episode has long passed, my “regular” depression has been fighting, hard, to keep me down. I’m not prepared to go into details right now but I’ve got a bunch of things I shared on Facebook (links, mostly) that I want to share here, so there’s going to be a bunch of posts coming over the next little while.
This image is one thing that seemed fitting to right now for a different reason than it did when I originally shared it on Facebook several weeks ago.
Here’s what I felt when I saw this image on May 30, 2017:
People think they know me but no one knows everything about me.
People have told me I share too much [on Facebook]. In truth, there is enormous amounts of pain and constant struggle that I have never told a single person, things I have never even put into writing, simply because people judge me for really stupid shit. It makes me feel worse any time I slip up and accidentally mention one of my deep dark thoughts and people will tell me I’m crazy, overdramatic, or they try to give me a million different ways to “fix” my problems.
Occasionally, I will intentionally try to talk to someone close to me about specific things, or maybe about stuff in a broader sense, and I always end up regretting it because people can’t simply listen. They have to either try to fix it or invalidate how I feel, when it’s now I feel and has nothing to do with them. This is why I don’t open up to you, even when you tell me you’re here to talk whenever I need to. You say that now, but trust me, you’re not. You’re lying to me and yourself.
My depression is not caused by anything in particular. It just is. It’s a thing that is a part of me, no matter what. Most of the time there really just isn’t anything to talk about. Sometimes there is. My depression comes with feelings that have no explanation. It comes with dark, intrusive thoughts. Too dark to share with anyone without causing them to think I belong locked up. (I do know there are some people out there who do truly understand this, but you are very difficult to find.) It comes with anxiety which shows itself as irritability and agitation for no reason. And it comes with stigma. Self stigma. Your stigma. The world’s stigma. Even people who have been there themselves can have their own stigma towards what I’m going through because it’s different than their experience and they don’t realize how different everyone’s own, personal experience is. There are people I thought I could talk to, people I thought I could trust, who turned out to have their own stigma that invalidates what I’m going through.
It’s extremely frustrating when people make assumptions about me, think they know everything there is to know, or just put me into their little stereotyped boxes. You don’t know me at all. You don’t know the battle I’m fighting inside my own mind every single day.