Last night I went to a house party and for the first time in my entire life I saw myself. You know what? It wasn’t pretty!
If you were hoping to hear a story about some extraordinary life changing epiphany I had after a couple of glasses of wine, you’re in for a huge disappointment. I didn’t see myself as I am today. It wasn’t one of those experiences when you realize what you’re doing wrong or how horrible of a human being you are. I’m already well aware of all those things.
Also, if you’ve never battled with a depression, or the daughter of some bitch and the Devil, as I like to call it, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or pretty much any mental illness, this story is not for you. If you’re one of those oxygen thieves who believe that “everything is in your head” and that everything a person suffering from the games hers/his brain is playing her/him with should do is “think positively”, please leave this page and never try to help anyone with those idiotic and even more damaging words of yours.
Anyhow, now that this long introduction has come to an end, let the story begin!
Once upon a last night among not that many people in a tiny room there was a girl whom I’ve seen possibly twice before this event. She was sitting there silently surrounded by the people who were screaming at each other in the attempt to out loud the music. Every now and then she would grace us with some sentences which were always quite witty, sometimes even hilarious.
Then, when the right amount of alcohol was in everyone’s bloodstreams, and the talking phase while consuming the liquid ended, people started to dance. They were singing, screaming the words out of the top of their lungs, showing of their dance moves, etc. But the girl who inspired me to share this story with the world was still sitting, drinking whatever poison of hers with a blunt facial expression lost in her own thoughts with no sight of being mentally present in that very room. Of course people tried to make her dance by pushing her, yelling the lyrics in her face and dancing around her. What they weren’t aware of is that with every single gesture of theirs they were snapping her out of her own world in which she was, and most definitely is still trapped in.
You could literally see the struggle and the pain she was going through in order to behave in a way which is socially acceptable and suitable for that occasion. She never sang or danced to more than one song in a row and afterwards she would fall back to her chair as if all the energy was drained out of her. She was chain-smoking while staring at the white wall in front of her, but every time someone asked her to dance or take part in any activity which was on the bucket list at that particular moment she would smile politely and say something about not being in the mood or how tired she is or God knows what else.
If anyone, besides myself, was to pay any attention to her mimics and body language, they would have seen the amount of strength she was pulling just so she could answer their questions or sing to one chorus. And then it hit me. That was me just couple of months ago.
For those of you who don’t know this, I’ve been depressed for more than three years and it sucked! That social mask she had on her face to hide her true feelings at that moment, the great amount of energy she needed just to stay in that room and be surrounded with other human beings, the anxiety of having others around you not being aware of what’s really going on in your head, the panic attacks before leaving the house knowing that there’s a terrifying world which has nothing to offer you, crying because you don’t have enough strength to get out of your bed and get ready for leaving the comfort of your own little, but dark and twisted, universe, the unbearable physical pain which tasks like washing your hair or getting dressed can bring to you… I’ve been through all of that and many, many, far too many other side effects of that daughter of some bitch and the Devil.
Therefor I knew what was going on in her pitch-black possessed mind. So, with no
hesitation I’ve approached the main character of this little story of ours and asked: “Do you want to go home so you could lay in your bed crying about how no one understands you, how you always have to pretend to be someone else in order to not disappoint your friends and because no matter how hard you try you can’t seem to fit in or get better?”
I know it seems harsh, but that’s exactly how I used to feel at every single social gathering. Those haunting feelings and thoughts tend to come back every now and then, but at least I can shake them off now.
For those of you who were lucky enough to never have this kind of an experience or late night thoughts after a party or a simple dinner with friends, it is the closest proximity to the lyrics of Alessia Cara’s song “Here”.
Of course everything I’ve described previously doesn’t demand a party in order for those demons to start possessing your brain with self-demeaning, and even suicidal, thoughts. But there is something about being surrounded with people which always triggered the worst out of me. I don’t know whether it was because of the previously mentioned social mask, because I always had to act and try to portray the previous version of myself, the person I was before the Hades’ daughter decided to ruin my life. Maybe I just felt misunderstood, like I don’t fit in, not just among the people, but in the world in general. There is also a possibility that it was hard for me to watch how everyone were doing so well while I had to put so much effort in every single thing I did from brushing my teeth to passing an exam. Maybe I hated them for not realizing what was going on in my head, how hard it was for me to stay present not only in the conversation, but on this Mother Earth of ours as well. Perhaps I wanted them to acknowledge the effort I was putting in surviving that Hell of a life. Who knows? Maybe all of these factors combined were the reason why social gatherings left me in bed for days, crying my heart out, overthinking everything I’ve ever said or done to deserve this, feeling unwanted, unneeded, not worthy of anything, until I would be left out completely numb.
Anyhow, to come back to our story. The girl wasn’t offended, she was petrified due to the fact her cover was blown.
“How do you know?” the girl asked.
“I can read people’s minds,” I said, trying to put a smile on her face. I think it’s unnecessary to say that was a huge failure.
“I’m just not in a mood right now,” the girl claimed.
“Listen, I’ve been and kind of still am depressed. I drink meds. I’m more than familiar with everything you’ve done and said tonight so you could isolate yourself from all these people and stay all by yourself with your thoughts of despair. Now, do you still want to go with that previously planed, stereotypical answer of yours?” I proclaimed.
“So you know,” she said and fell even more deep to that chair of hers.
And that’s when the Pandora’s Box started to crack. Now, I’m not going to retell you her story, that’s something far too private to be shared without our main character’s approval. But there are two elements of it which can and should be told to everyone who have been pushed to enter the gates of Hell thanks to depression.
One. Don’t push yourself! Of course this doesn’t mean you should completely give up on life and isolate yourself from the outer world. Trust me, I’ve spent three months locked in my flat, and it wasn’t really helpful. On the contrary, it sank me even deeper.
But it is more than necessary for you to take it slow. If you don’t feel like going to a party, a dinner, a cup of coffee, a movie, etc.; if you know that it’s going to bring out the worst of you and leave you shattered afterwards, don’t do it!
Yes, people could get offended, they can refer to you as a “party breaker”, and they can even say stuff like those oxygen thieves I’ve addressed to in the begging of this article, such as “snap out of it”, “it’s all in your head”, “there are people having it far more worse than you”, by which of course they are referring to someone who’s suffering from a physical disease or disability, but then again I did write about this issue previously, so we’re not going into that direction again.
And two. If you decide to actually go to any kind of social gathering and go through everything my main character and myself have gone through, when you get back home don’t you dare crying about it or thinking of yourself as of a less-worthy human being because you didn’t have fun even though everyone else did! I know it’s easier said than done, but you can get there. Seriously, if a person who was locked in a flat for three months did it, than so can you. So can everyone!
Instead of trying to find what’s wrong with you and answer the mystery of the fact that everyone had a great time while you wanted to kill yourself on that very spot just so you could end the misery of being there, try thinking of it as a step towards beating that mother fucker of a depression.
You did something out of your comfort zone, and yes it was horrible, but for crying out loud at least you did something! It was hard and painful and it didn’t have any positive income at that moment, but there will be a time in your life when one of these things will bring you joy. Maybe it will not be a great one, but once again take it slow. In a words of New Kids on the Block “step by step”.
I will never stop stressing out what glorious heroes people dealing with depression are! Not only does it take a lot of guts to live through everything you’re going through on a daily basis, but it also takes a lot of strength, energy, bravery, a lot of hard work which is even harder due to the fact that bitch of a depression is trying to suck the life out of you.
Don’t let the bitch win. She may have your life in her hands now, but you know you’re going to laugh at her one day. Actually you’re going to be grateful to that mother fucker for changing your life for the better, no matter how crazy this sounds, it’s true. I know that. People who put that daughter of some bitch and the Devil back to Hell where she belongs know it to.
Everything happens for a reason. We may not know the actual reason why your brain decided to play games with you by bringing depression into your system, but we know you can beat the crap out of it. And that may be the actual reason. The Universe, the God, life, or however you want to call it, wouldn’t give you depression if you weren’t capable of kicking her ass off! Things will never be the same again. They will be better. Far better!
Remember how a Dementor tried to suck every happy memory and positivity out of Harry Potter? And what did he do? He tossed a Patronus charm at him. Find your inner Patronus! Remember Patronus is a charm which requires the advanced magic skills. But if that little boy who had spent half of his life living in a closet and bet The One Who Should Not Be Named only because of his mother’s sacrifice, than so can you!