I don't know how to explain the black whole of despair that depression is.
I don't know how to make you understand.
I don't know the right words to use to paint a picture of my emotions.
I don't know how to show you my face when I hid it for so long.
I don't know how to tell you how I thought, expcept to let you see my thoughts.
So, after much thought, that is what I'm doing.
Over the next two weeks I'm going to write some posts that let you see exactly what I was thinking when my depression was at it's worst. I found my journals from when I was in the hospital. It's not pretty. It's not coherent. It's not remotely logical. Some of it is downright weird. When I write about my depression I try to be very specific with "I felt like" statements. But now I think I need to open that up.
May is Mental Health Awarness Month. (Because yes, every issue has a month, so we get our own as well, thankyouverymuch!)
So I'm going to try to make some people aware. Aware that they are not alone. Aware that depression is real. Aware that depression cannot be manicured or pedicured away (thank you Kendra. I heard about you being on Dr. Drew, again. Spewing about your PPD. Whatevs.). Aware that a 'nervous breakdown' is not 'just freezing' infront of some people and then needing 'to rest until I felt better.' (Thank you, J Lo. Yeah, I read about that, too. I've got your nervous breakdown right here.) Aware that sharing your story is not shameful. But uplifting. (Thank you Bree Howard Dallas. You rock.) Aware that you can heal, survive and thrive, live joyfully with depression. I'm going to give you all sorts of places to visit to read other stories that uplift you.
I'm not going to lie. The next two weeks might be uncomfortable for some of you who know me in real life. I suggest you don't read. Because I'm not going to discuss this with you. AT. ALL. Not even a little. I don't want your comments, your feedback.* This isn't for you, or for me. So I'm pretending that my family and friends don't read this and that I blog anonomysly for the remainder of the month.
I don't know how to tell you that depression sucks. Except to say that depression sucks large, hairy donkey balls. But it will get better. It will.
*If you need to talk to me about something depression related, then obviously I'm willing. What I'm not willing to do is rehash what a mess I was. I'm doing that here. I don't need to then talk to you about it. Sorry if you think that's harsh. But for now it's my way of staying healthy. If you're an exception to this I'll let you know.