When you have depression, it’s like you’re living on the sidelines

Sometimes it is easier to come across a post like this one in order to try and understand what is going on in the brain of someone who is dealing with depression. Not that this article portrays the exact feelings and thoughts of what people who are depressed are dealing with, but it gives you an idea, coming from a person battling with depression.

Mental illnesses affect us all. Across the country there are nearly 60 million americans living with mental illnesses. Yet, a comprehensive mental illness bill has not been passed through the United States Congress in 40 Years.

I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. I asked a personal friend if he was willing to describe what dealing with depression is like and this is what he had to say:

“When you have depression, it’s like you’re living on the sidelines. You’ll start off by feeling empty. Maybe it’s just a bad day or maybe there was something funky in the enchiladas you had earlier that afternoon. It’s ok. You know you’ll sleep and wake up feeling just fine. The next day, week, month… nothing changes. You start to loose focus. Your memory flits in and out like its bored of being stuck inside you all the time. You’ll catch yourself being someone else and then wave it off. Just another bad day, you say.

“Life will so kindly pause for you, only to speed up so fast that you’re lost — left behind as you realize everyone else had been moving forward the whole time. You see other people and you walk the other way. They don’t care about you. The world is an unforgiving place. In fact, no one cares about you. You’re one small person in a big word. You can stay in bed and no one will notice. It’s okay to fail your classes. You’d never amount to anything anyway.

“Then something brings you halfway to the surface and you realize that you’re not okay. You need to get better because that crumb of will left in you says so. You exercise, write poetry, meditate, and whatever the fuck else Google says will make you alright. None of it works. You tell someone what’s happening and they wave you off. They don’t know what it’s like. To them, you’re an ungrateful, attention seeking hermit.

“You tell your mom as if she would believe you. You shouldn’t have been so naive. She’s not like dad. You call dad. A machine answers the phone. You’re so stupid for thinking he would pick up four years after you scattered his ashes in the park. Your life is horrible. You cut yourself once. Maybe another cut. Then another and before you know it you have 13 cuts. The relief is so sweet. People see your wrist and they are repulsed. How did this all start? Then you remember you’re not the only one suffering and you reach out for change. But toast can never be bread again.”

When someone says to you, “I have/am dealing with/have dealt with [x item on this list],” you say to them – either in that moment or the next moment you feel they are calm or lucid enough to answer you – you say to them, “What, if anything, can I do or say to help in a time of crisis?” and then you do what they ask of you. People living with depression, with anxiety, with PTSD, with eating disorders, people with conditions like dissociative identity disorder or schizophrenia, people who have survived abuse and assault: they are living. With their shit. It is with them all day every day, and they know it better than you. You should make it a lesson to learn that. Know that. And lastly, Respect that!

Saying “You don’t have anything to be depressed about, your life is great” is like saying, “What do you mean you have asthma? There’s loads of air in here”