It's hardly heroic

Depression is like the rabbit that the magician suddenly whips out of his hat:  where was it hiding before?  It just appears, out of nowhere, and you're all amazed. 

I sometimes think I'm making it all up.  

Given that I've suffered with depression all my life it may seem strange that I would ever doubt its existence.  It's as much a part of my identity as my eye color and hair color.  I never question the fact that I have dark brown hair.  I never wake up in the morning and expect to be blonde.  Why then do I wonder if I have a mental illness? Why do I tell myself, today is a brand new day and I'm just as normal as anyone else?

Lately I've been plagued by other people's doubts.  In a perfect world, those who are closest to you would believe what you tell them.  "I have an illness," you'd expect them to understand and empathize.  Certainly if you were to say, "I have cancer," you'd expect an immediate heartfelt response:  what can I do for you?  How can I help?  It's extremely unlikely that anyone would react to that statement by questioning you.

Why then when you say, "I have a mental illness," is the reaction not the same?  Why do people try to talk you out of it, when you know damn well that this is your truth.  

So I suppose it isn't all that surprising that I doubt my own reality from time to time.  It doesn't help that depression AND anxiety is such a shape-shifting trickster by nature ... forever changing how it looks and feels.  It's extremely hard to pin down.  

I can't believe how palpable the pain really is.  It isn't just in my head; it's in my bones.  My whole body aches with despair.

The fact that it's so physical is actually something of a relief.  I know that contrary to what society may think, I'm not just a wimp who can't cope with the stresses of everyday life.  I'm not a slacker or a princess who doesn't want to work.  I feel sicker than if I had the flu or even pneumonia—it's agony simply to blink or breathe.  Something is very, very wrong, and it's not all in my imagination.  And I'm not pretending.  Who would ever choose to play this role?  

It's hardly heroic.

It's been a long, long time since I have had a bout of depression like this.  It is hard to shake this time and the usual coping mechanisms are not helping.  The usual things I do ... Are not helping.  It is hard to get up everyday.  But I am telling you all this not for pity, or anyone to feel they need to do anything but just to show that it IS real and even those who you think would/could not possibly be a real victim of its grasp are suffering.   It has been held at bay through all these years with teeny bouts here and there but this by far is the worst it has been in about fifteen years.  It never goes away.  It just lays dormant.  

But I will be okay. I DO have people who are there for me. I am blessed and have lots of reasons to hang around here on this rock.  

Just remember the struggle is real.