Why I Never Believed My Negative Thoughts Were Depression
Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.
I am not a person who will struggle with depression. This is because I am a person who copes. I am someone who copes and gets on with things and does not say that things are hard because things are hard for everyone. I am not unmotivated and exhausted because I am depressed. I am unmotivated and exhausted because I am lazy. And fat. And disgusting. And a waste of all of the space. And worthless. I do not prioritize basic self-care such as showering or brushing my hair, not because I am depressed, but because I am a mother now and I should come last after everyone else. This is motherhood. I am not so depressed sometimes that I can’t see or hear or think. I can’t see or hear or think because I am so stupid and can’t multitask and I need to pull myself together because I am a mother now.
I never feel like I am a good enough mother, or a good enough wife, or a good enough friend, or a good enough daughter, or a good enough sister, or a good enough employee, or just a good enough human. This has nothing to do with living with a depression that cripples your sense of self and worth. I feel this way because all of this is true, I am not good enough at anything so I need to try harder. I will absolutely try harder tomorrow. But I will probably fail because I am utterly useless.
I want to run away from my babies sometimes. The weight of responsibility to do it right and be the best mother for them is too much. This is because I am a complete waste of space and a terrible person. A terrible mother. This is not because I have depression, and because I have put so much pressure on myself to get this right for them that it is making me ill.
I don’t stand in my home surrounded by chaos and mess, unable to do anything about it because I feel completely paralyzed by my own brain. I do nothing about it because I am lazy and deserve to live in chaos. I don’t constantly think about how I could and should do all of the things better because my anxiety makes me overanalyze absolutely everything. I think about doing all of the things better because I need too. Because I am actually doing everything badly.
I can’t have depression because I don’t really believe in it.
I have judged those that live with depression and anxiety because they are weak. They do not know how to cope and they chose to feel miserable.
They chose to feel that way. It’s a choice.
Except; what person would choose to feel that way? Some people are so desperately ill inside of their own actual heads that the only way they think they can feel better is to no longer exist. This is not a choice. Some people will never get the help they need because they don’t believe in depression or anxiety, or that the way they feel is not normal. And that actually, people who are well, do not feel that way.
I never really understood depression. I sympathized greatly with those who I knew genuinely struggled but have been skeptical of others. I am ashamed about that. I have judged and discussed and analyzed other people’s mental health as an outsider, as someone who would never have depression, because I choose not too. I choose to cope, I choose strength, I totally choose to be “normal” and like all other mentally-stable people because being depressed must be so damn embarrassing.
What a total utter asshole.
I had no idea what my brain had in store for me, or that I would become the person I had once believed had chosen to live in darkness.
Accepting that I am ill has taken me a long time. Being able to talk about it has taken even longer. And feeling unashamed or blameless is still a work in progress. But my goodness, my heart is open to anyone who has, does or ever will feel this way. There will be no judgments from me. But I will buy you a massive coffee, and I will tell you that you are not alone.
Follow this journey on Diary of a TeetoToria
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “START” to 741-741.
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Unsplash photo via Tomas Jasovsky