How did I make you cry?

So your friend, your mother, your sister, your brother etc are depressed. And you call them with the best intentions. You are calling to give them support, offer your love and devotion, tell them that they are not alone. And yet at the end of the call when they are sobbing and assuring you it is not your fault, you are stuck wondering what the fuck you did.

You were nice. You said the right words, your mouthed the right platitudes, but in the end, you just do not get it.

Depression is not easily understood. You cannot talk to someone else about it. You cannot ask them for their experience. Because what they have gone through I have not! My loathing and disgust has no bearing on someone else’s. I am angry and no,  I will not benefit from talking to someone because at 44 years old, I already know all the shit that is wrong with me. I know my triggers and I know that my dad was an asshole but that is another story.

I have spoken to therapists and counsellors.  I have gorged my pain and reiterated the loathing. That is no longer the issue here. The issue is my seratonin levels are fucked up. There is something wrong with my brain chemistry. And I am okay with that. What I need to do is suck it up and accept it.

But this post is not really about me. It is for those who are confused because they reached out, they were supportive, they wanted to understand and yet you sobbed, you stammered, you made no sense. And the whole reason behind that is that they were nice to you. It is the niceness that is the killer. For my sake……this might not be for all who live with depression so sound it out first…..do not be nice to me.

Anxiety

I hate anxiety. There is no insidious beast like anxiety. I am not helpless. I know how to raise my child, I know how to do my job. But in the early morning hours, when said child is screaming at me, I begin to wonder, what the f*** man? Can I not do this?

On my best days, the days where I am snapping and I am rolling, where my customers and my son are feeling great because they are so important to me, I can do no wrong. My swag is shining, my words are poetry and everyone who meets me is game. And than the rush fades,  I start to think about the next week, the next sale, the next hour, and wow, I am fucked.

Anxiety eats at you. Anxiety makes you believe that you do not have the ability, the time or even the understanding……anxiety makes you doubt every aspect of your being…..anxiety makes you doubt the truth of your being…….

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