a blog about depression, anxiety, and writing
Depression is hard (and that's an understatement). And, for me, sometimes it's made harder when the physical outside world looks the exact opposite of how I feel. Sometimes, I actually feel worse when the sky has zero fucking clouds in it. That crystal blue untarnished canvas can be infuriating, confusing, painful, alienating, dark, invalidating, and so much more.
I dislike when people point out to me how gorgeous the day is, or how pretty a landscape or a view is. I feel so much pain and loneliness when the people who know (and the people who don’t know) I suffer from sever depression ask me: “How could you not be happy or feel good on a day like this?” or “How could this weather or that view not make you feel just a little bit better?”
But they don’t want an answer.
So I just smile, look down at my feet, and nod.
I hold my breath, catch the words inching up my throat just before they find their way to my padlocked voice box, and I clench my jaw.
Each time this happens (and trust me, it happens quite often) I find that I get this throbbing ache inside me, wishing I could say something in response to their pointed question. I hope that someday I do say something. And if or when that day comes, I know what I’ll say.
It's simple: that’s not how depression works.
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I am a poet. A writer. A student. A fighter. A survivor. I use writing as a means to understand my world, my experiences, my struggles. I use writing to cope, to escape, to help myself and others, and to relive.