Remember that post about vulnerability?
Well I’m very vulnerable with you guys but not so much with the people around me.
I was taught not to be vulnerable actually. “These people aren’t your friends” “nobody is worried about you” “stop telling your business” and I do get it. Although the advice seemed cruel, it was needed in a way. That IS the way of the world, a lot of people can not be trusted, a lot of people don’t care, and people will and do gossip about your business.
I still like to tell mine though, lol. With hopes that’ll it help someone else. And I like to be seen and understood for who I really am. I was also taught not to care about people understanding me. Another lesson that is understood but not followed. I hope that maybe understanding me with help you understand yourself.
But anyways, I felt the need to share how I was feeling with my friends and family on FB. I just felt like explaining why I’m such a weirdo. Blocking my mother from the post of course because she would cringe at knowing I’m so open online.
It felt nice. I didn’t get many interactions because duh, do I ever. Some people can’t stand the emo stuff lol. But I got support from my cousins, an aunt and even old friend. And today I feel a lot better.
I think that’s why therapy helps some people. Because it helps them get it out and to be seen without putting their business online. I’m still not trying to pay anyone for that. I prefer writing it out and letting people read and respond on their own time. But that connection is everything. Being seen and heard and felt, it is everything. It makes me want to do better and to help others want to do better.
So I say that to say, there’s definitely power in vulnerability.
Oh yeah. And this is what I wrote on FB:
What does depression feel like.
I’m happy, I’m in love, I’m enjoying life and then boom, I wake up. I wake up to the realization that I am still here. The happiness I dreamed of drops to my feet and the earth soaks it up.
On my worst days, depression isn’t just mental, it’s physical. It makes me feel heavy and empty at the same time. Like a marble vase. I feel it most in my chest, it feels like that first heart break. It feels like I’m stuck with no sign of freedom.
Depression is hoping that while I’m driving (alone of course) that I get into a fatal car accident.
Depression is looking in the mirror and being repulsed at the sight of my own face.
Depression is lashing out at my son because I am depressed and then immediately regretting it. Depression is thinking maybe I’m not a good enough mom for him.
Depression is not having the energy to take care of myself. It’s not having the energy to do anything, actually. Depression is feeling depleted.
Depression is being misunderstood. I’m not mean, I’m just unhappy??? Depression is me avoiding talking to people because they may sense it. I can’t hide it. If it’s not in my eyes, you might sense in my tired wig, or by the ash on my ankles, you might catch it in my attitude. But then you may not think it’s depression, you may think this is just me. But it’s not.
I hate it here, figuratively and literally. I hate being depressed just about as much as I hate being here. “I’m just not built for it” is the best way I can explain my reasoning for not wanting to be here. I am not built for it. I care too much, I worry too much, I want too much.
My favorite way to deal with depression is by escaping my reality as much and as often as I can. I do that mostly by dreaming, dreaming of a better life. Or by reading. Or by binge watching TV. Sometimes I do it with the aide of alcohol or you know know, the other stuff.
Lately I have been doing it through writing. I keep an online journal and it is at times the only way I feel connected with people. The only time I don’t feel alone. It’s the only thing that gives me a bit of hope. Hey, at least I can write. At least my reader sees me. At least someone understands.
I want to figure this out so bad. I’m trying CBD gummies, I spoke to a doctor about birth control to balance my hormones, I’m reading every self help book out there.
Turning my trials to triumph is the goal.
I am hoping to be that success story where I can show someone else, that it gets better. You can do this. But then I wonder, am I wanting too much?
You see. It’s a never ending cycle.
This is depression.