Depression is a Lying Bitch, Wouldn’t You Say?

Depression is a Lying Bitch, Wouldn’t You Say?

 

Self-Improvement is a lot of work, and that’s kind of not really fair.

Admittedly, sometimes a wreckage is our own fault.

 

For example, I need to shed fifty pounds.

Because I am a lazy slob who let myself go. Totally my own fault. Well, and my mother’s because she gave me her crappy genes. But bad DNA aside, being overweight is all on me. And so I’m working to fix it. Jogging two miles most days of the week, staying motivated by pretending a zombie is chasing me.

 

Happily, my pants are getting too big — but slowly, so, so slowly.

Depression whispers in my ear,

“You’re fat. You’ll never be thin again.

Size eight is long gone.

You’re so worthless and gross. Totally disgusting —

Why do you even bother to wake up in the morning?”

Another example: My house is crazy bad.

It needs tons of work. The cleaning type of work, the organizing type, the fix-it type, and eventually the maintenance type. Again, totally my own fault. Well, and the people who worked on this Leaning Tower of Pisa before we ever moved in. But bad craftsmanship aside, living in a disorganized wreckage is all on me. And so I’m working to fix this, too. Setting my timer for fifteen minutes to see how much shit I can toss out in that short amount of time (you’d be surprised; fifteen minutes can seriously cure a room of illness!).

 

Happily, each room is looking slightly less crappy — but slowly, so, so slowly.

Depression whispers in my ear,

“See? You ARE worthless.

You’ll never amount to anything.

You can’t even vacuum.

Look at you, lying there on the couch.

Fucking lazy piece of shit.”

 

Yeah, completely my bad, on both those counts.

For both these crimes, I take ownership and am making strides toward improvement.

 

SO SHUT THE FUCK UP, DEPRESSION. YOU ARE A LYING BITCH.

I report in with my family on a sporadic basis during the week and let them know how I’m doing. I call my hubz throughout the day to update him on my accomplishments. I sign in to various challenges online and report my progress to likewise-afflicted participants. I’m doing things right.

 

But only on the good days.

There are bad days, lots and lots of bad days. Fortunately, “bad days” in the present tense is nothing near as bad as the “bad days” of my past. “Bad days” used to mean DEPRESSION IS FULL-ON SCREAMING AT ME, a potential 9-1-1 call, or at the very least, oh-so-many many tears and bad poetry and an over-abundance of wine consumption and sleeping all day because I couldn’t possibly get out of bed. “Bad days” used to mean my back was in constant pain, and I had headaches, and there always seemed to be some new ailment sending me to a doctor.

 

DEPRESSION OWNED MY HEAD AND I COULDN’T MAKE HER GO AWAY.

 

My “bad days” now aren’t so very bad.

“Bad days” now merely mean I’m unmotivated, overtaken by PMS, or just completely wiped out. Sometimes a combination of the three, which feels dangerously close to the old “bad days”, the days of serious DEPRESSION, but which never seems quite as dire or deep as it used to. She slithers in and I KICK HER ASS OUT. For that I have my hubz to thank, along with counseling, prescription medication, family support, and a desire to remain mentally healthy. And also, Double-Stuffed Oreos, because I can always talk myself into living one more day if there are cookies inside of it.

 

All joking aside…

I’ve been troubled lately by how far we have come technologically, and yet how socially inept we still are when it comes to this illness. People still think DEPRESSION is something easily contained. Just last week, when in discussion with my Brother-In-Law (whom I shall henceforth refer to as Bill, because B.I.L. isn’t a name and looks stupid), I was forced to remember the shame and bitterness that accompanied me during those sad, bad years.

 

“I’m tired of hearing [[[XXYYZZ]]] say she’s depressed. She just wants attention and I’m sick of it.”

 

This falls on the list of “Things NOT to Say to a Depressed Person”, as supplied herein by who blogs about her own ongoing struggles with DEPRESSION at NochNoch: be me. be natural.

Here’s the list of things to NEVER, EVER say to a person suffering DEPRESSION, amended to include additions from her readers, and reorganized into categories for your reading pleasure.

 

The Bossy-Pants, Well-meaning but stupid and momentarily impossible advice for people suffering DEPRESSION:

 

1. Be positive. Cheer up. Snap out of it. etc.
2. Don’t think like that. You’re so negative. Stop being so cynical. You’re so pessimistic. etc.

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“You are such a fuck up.

Being happy isn’t difficult,

but you don’t even know

how to do this one simple thing.

Obviously there is something wrong with you.”

 

 

The Bossy-Pants, Don’t-give-a-fuck about the DEPRESSION a person is suffering, advice:

 

3. Go take a pill or something.
4. Calm down. Stop overreacting.
5. Grow up.

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“You are so stupid.

Can’t you do anything right?

Even your friends are sick of you.”

 

The Bossy-Pants, I know exactly what a person with DEPRESSION should do and needs to do and ought to do, advice:

 

6. You should be grateful for what you have. Others have it much worse than you.
7. You should (fill in the blank).
8. You shouldn’t wallow in self-pity.
9. You shouldn’t (fill in the blank).
10. You need to pray more. You need to go to church. You need to get right with God. etc.
11. You need to (fill in the blank).

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“What an idiot you are.

Just keep hiding under your blanket,

stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

You should never come out again.

You need to sleep and sleep and sleep.

That’s the only way they’ll shut up.”

The Attack-y questions which a person suffering DEPRESSION can’t possibly answer:

 

11. What’s wrong with you?
12. Why are you depressed?
13. Do you want to go to the hospital?
14. Are you trying to scare your family?

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“Go ahead and answer their questions.

Tell them what’s wrong with you.

Tell them you’re an imbecile.

Tell them you’re worthless.

Tell them YES you want to go to the hospital.

Tell them you want them to notice.

But they won’t.

Because nobody loves you, ugly face.”

The Attack-y accusations which will make a person suffering DEPRESSION want to jump off a cliff immediately:

 

16. It’s all in your head.
17. You’re not even trying.
18. You’re bringing the rest of us down.
19. You just want attention.
20. You’re being so selfish. You never think of others. etc.

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“You are a lazy, crazy, shit for brains.

You are stupid.

You are making everyone’s life worse.

You shouldn’t even be breathing.

Look at you,

wishing they’d notice your suffering.

Attention whore.”

The Obligatory, washing my hands of you since I don’t really want to deal with DEPRESSION, approach:

 

21. I’m worried about you (with zero follow-up).
22. When I feel down, I always (fill in the blank).

 

Depression whispers in my ear,

“If your friends and family really loved you,

they wouldn’t stop.

They know how crappy you are,

and that’s why they leave you here

in this grey hole.

No one will miss you when you’re gone.”

The “I’m suddenly a Psychologist, Psychiatrist, Therapist, and Counselor all rolled into one”, approach:

 

23. You don’t have DEPRESSION – you’re way too happy all the time.
24. You don’t have DEPRESSION – I’m way more depressed than you.

Depression whispers in my ear,

“You should show them.

You should prove your depression is real.

You should go ahead and end this pain.

Go ahead.

Kill yourself.

Pussy.”

 

 

The problem with DEPRESSION is that everyone thinks they know everything about it, when even the so-called experts don’t have all the answers. You’ll be glad to know that I didn’t kick “Bill’s” ass for what he said. I explained DEPRESSION to him, and when he still didn’t get it, my hubz finally chimed in. As a person who actually saw firsthand what DEPRESSION does to a person, he has more right to offer advice in this realm than anyone on my back porch.

 

He said, “You’re an ass, and you don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut up.”

 

I’m going to send him these videos, and I hope you’ll watch them too. This is what happens when DEPRESSION goes unnoticed, unassisted, unchecked. It broke my heart. It should break your heart, too. Maybe you’ll see a little bit about what it means to have DEPRESSION, that lying bitch, whispering in your ear.