This is something that I’ve slowly started figuring out as I continue on my journey of self discovery: depression fucking sucks.
I cannot say it enough, it sucks. If depression could be a physical object, I would throw it in the nearest garbage can. I would take that garbage can to the dump. I would take that pile of trash, and I would burn it forever. And once it’s burned up and gone, I would probably light one more fire just to make sure that it never comes back again (but I would make sure the fire is contained because nobody wants wildfires).
Depression is so weird sometimes. It’s honestly so hard to explain to anybody that doesn’t suffer from it daily. It’s even hard to explain to myself or to others with depression as well because for each person, it looks and acts differently.
To put it simply: my brain is it’s own worst enemy. As Admiral Akbar would say, “It’s a trap!” Because sometimes, it is.
When I say it’s a trap, I don’t mean that I’m constantly struggling or anything. I have my good days and I have my bad days.
However, sometimes my thoughts can get quite confusing.
You know in those movies when the character has an angel and a devil on their shoulders. It’s pretty obvious which thoughts are the ‘bad,’ ones and which ones are the ‘good,’ ones. In my case, however, it’s like my devil is also wearing a halo and I can get confused on which side is really the bad one.
My brain is almost wired to think negatively about itself. I feel an intense dislike of myself, the way I look, and who I am. I know these are bad thoughts, but they’re disguised as good ones. I have to constantly evaluate and look at what I’m thinking.
I’ve been thinking about my death a lot lately. What would it look like if I was gone? Would anyone miss me? Would they get over it eventually? Would Sam find someone else, and would she make him happier than I do? Would my family miss me again? Would anything even happen at all?
In my head, the thought of my death isn’t what it should be, because I see it a lot of the time as a positive for everyone around me. My depression wouldn’t affect anyone anymore: no Alaina, no depression, no hurting. This is how my brain works.
And it’s wrong. It’s broken.
And that is ok.
Because even though I’m broken and I’m hurting, I’m not a bad person. I might not feel like it, but I KNOW that I deserve to be alive.
And so do you.
Those bad thoughts may look great, but they’re not. They’re lying to you – you deserve to be here. Life happens, each day starts and ends, and your life is worth living.
Everything will be ok.
That’s my two cents for today.
EDIT: Just scrolled my Facebook wall and saw this link posted immediately after I posted this. Maybe it’s coincidence, but please take a read: