trying to explain depression

so i battle depression. and by battle i mean full on gladiator style battle some days. a dohyo face off with the world’s biggest sumo wrestler. most people kinda get it- they’ve had bad days or been sad about something. some have no clue and like to mock depression as stupid/weak/imaginary. until recently i’ve never really thought of a way to fully explain it. explain what it feels, like, how real it is, anything in a way that makes sense. i think this explains it. for me anyway:
remember when you were a kid and your big brother thought it would be funny to hold you under a huge thick blanket and keep you there as long as he could? yeah…it’s like that. like being trapped under grandma’s giant afghan (and yes, i very specifically picked an afghan) until you screamed uncle. and even then most times my brother still wouldn’t let me up. it’s like that. an afghan: it’s huge and heavy and dark but there are always little places where light pokes through and sometimes you can find an edge to pull back. depression is like that. you’re trapped under this huge, heavy, dark blanket fighting like hell to find an edge or a way to get out but in the mean time every once in a while you can see little spots of light that give you a little hope and let you know that at least you’re not stuck under the blanket AND locked in the trunk of the car AND on the way to be encased in cement (if my brother could have thought of it…he would have).
and i get that depression is so different for everyone. the things they’re dealing with are different. the way they experience it and how much it impacts them is different. but for me, people can’t understand my depression. yes, i’m depressed, i’m stuck under this huge fucking blanket being smothered and fighting like hell to try to get out, but during the fight there’s these spots of light. those are moments of happiness, breaks in the clouds.

just because i’m depressed doesn’t mean i don’t have good moments and just because i have good moments doesn’t mean i’m not depressed.

even in the worst of it i will still try to crack a joke or enjoy a moment or sing along with a song. i still try to put on my happy face (which i suck at by the way). i’m sure everyone knows something is off. i know i’m not fooling anyone, i know i’m not good at hiding shit, and part of me thinks i shouldn’t have to, but at the same time they don’t know how deep it is. but there’s these holes in the afghan…i’m peeking out through those, reminding myself what’s on the outside and what i’m fighting to get back to. little glimpses of light and life. if i do have a few good moments, it doesn’t mean i’m “cured” it just means i had a moment where i saw a little light. i’m still stuck. i’m still trapped under that huge fucking weight with the universe sitting on my chest laughing and not letting me up. but then there’s times when you actually feel like you’re winning the battle…you manage to find an edge and peek out and get a breath and feel like yourself again, but then big brother notices and ducks you back under the blanket for another round and usually packs an extra punch just because. those are the most frustrating. you think you’re clear, you think you’re out…then just as suddenly, you’re not. i don’t know if it ever goes away. when i was a kid my brother would get bored or get in trouble and have to let me out…i’m not sure real depression plays by those rules. in fact, i’m pretty damn sure it doesn’t play by any rules.

and i’ve had doctors and people tell me that there are medications to help. and i’ve tried a few. and i will never try any again. they make the crazy worse (again, just me speaking). they say right on the package it will take MONTHS, yes MONTHS to adjust to them and know if they’re working and then MONTHS to wean yourself off of them if you ever want to stop. umm…no thanks. i still have to function in the mean time. i don’t exactly have a few months away from kids and life to try to adjust to some medication that may or may not work. they also say exercise is the answer- is there anything exercise ISN’T the answer to? fucking retards. i’m sure it works at some point. it gives you something to focus on and i’m sure it helps you feel better physically eventually (although everyone that i know that works out complains about always being sore…sooo…). and i’m sure whatever else goes with it is magical shit on a cloud, but i just can’t get into it. never have. i’m one of those people that has spent THOUSANDS on exercise equipment and videos and trying to get into it- i’ve had the gazelle, the elliptical, the videos, the exercise balls, the yoga mats…i just can’t get into it.

what’s the point of this? what am i really trying to say? i don’t know. i just want to say it’s real. and i’m fighting it. but i get tired. and i get worse. and i get better. it goes around and around. but it’s real. it’s very real. please don’t tell me on the days when i want to give up that i’m just being weak and stupid. please understand that i’ve been battling this for as long as i can remember and i get tired. i get exhausted. please don’t laugh at me or think it’s all fake just because i have a good moment or a good day or a good week. some days i’m stronger than others. some days a kindergartner hopped up on pixie sticks could kick my ass. it’s just been so frustrating listening to people say that my brother was weak and cowardly and gave up or couldn’t deal when he took his own life. i don’t see it that way. i think because i’ve fought the battles he fought. i’m still fucking fighting them. and if anything, his death has scared the fucking shit out of me because if he lost the fight…who’s to say i won’t? and i know it’s a personal choice and it’s a personal decision to continue on or not. but i understand why he chose not. i understand how tired and hurt and broken he felt. and more than once i’ve wanted to make the same choice. and more than once i’ve felt that it was too much and wanted a way out.
i guess i just want people to understand it better. understand me better. that’s all.