Please note that I am going to talk about depression for a bit.  So if that triggers you, you can skip this.  If it just slightly bothers you because you don’t want to think about depression, read on.

There are so many people who have written about depression and suicide since last week.  And I find that I cannot stay silent just because there are so many excellent articles out there that have recently been written.  I’ll put my favorites at the end of this post.

I’ve dealt with depression for most of my life.  I’m going to guess that it started sometime after our cross-country move when I was ten.  I can’t put my finger on a specific instance.   I just know that it has been with me for a very long time.

There have been so many different ways of describing depression: snow, an ice cold bath, a dark cloud.  All of these fit.  And all of them are different ways to try to help someone who hasn’t had to fight it understand what it’s like.  They are all remarkable ways to give a reader a picture of the fight with depression.

I can’t resist adding yet another word picture.

You could think of it as an inoperable brain tumor.

You’ve been told it’s not malignant.  It won’t kill you.  It may make you wish you were dead, but it won’t outright kill you.

The doctor has given you a pill that should keep it from making you wish you were dead.  He has also suggested that you go see another doctor from time to time to talk about your tumor.  Or maybe she suggests that you join a support group of others who have a similar tumor.

You do what you can.  Most of the time, the pill keeps you feeling okay.  Every now and then, though, you get a splitting headache.  You can’t see more than a foot in front of your face.  You don’t want to get out of bed.  You get dizzy when you stand up and if you’re upright for too long, you lose any food that might be in your stomach.  Sometimes, you’re ravenous, not able to sate your appetite.  Sometimes, you can’t eat anything.  Just the thought of it makes you sick.

And it never lasts for the same amount of time.  If you’re lucky, it just lasts a day.  If you’re unlucky, it lasts for a season.  Or two.  Or three.

Unless you’re having one of these bad days, you can be up and moving around and acting like a “normal” person (a person without a brain tumor).  No one would know by looking at you that you had a brain tumor.

That’s what it’s like with depression.  No one would know to look at you that you are in this particular fight.  But when they hear that you have depression, they’re less likely to have any kind of sympathy for you than they would have if you told them you had a brain tumor.

They tell you to:

“Walk it off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“It’s all in your head.”

“What do you have to be sad about?”

“There are starving kids in Africa who have it worse than you.”

“Snap out of it!”

This doesn’t help.  It’s like this YouTube video:

We wouldn’t like people who treat others with physical ailments like the above video.  So why are we okay with people treating others this way when they have mental health ailments?

Depression sucks.  It eats away at your soul.  It convinces you that there’s something wrong with you.  And the people that have no compassion for you don’t help this any.

It’s one of those things people don’t talk about.

That needs to change.

It’s the only way people with depression and other mental health diseases will feel comfortable talking about it.

I have depression.  And anxiety.  They aren’t going away any time soon.  I can keep them away sometimes.  And sometimes, I fight them the best I can.  Through the 25 or so years that I’ve been fighting this particular fight, I’ve learned things that help me fight.  I think, though, that’s another topic for another time.

In the meantime, my fight with depression wages on.  I can’t “walk it off.”  It’s an inoperable tumor in my brain.  Without the actual tumor.

April 5 was my most recent black day.  And right now, there’s a dark shadow looming, but it hasn’t let me know if it’s going to settle in or not.  At least this time, if it does settle, it’ll have been expected.  April 5 came out of the blue.

If it hits, I’m going to give myself some grace, some latitude, some patience.  It’s not as if I chose depression.  No one does.  It chooses us.

Some links for you:

CDC’s most recent statistics about suicide.

Brene Brown’s post about suicide.

Libba Bray’s post about depression.

Wil Wheaton’s post about depression.