Skip to main content

There's so much wrong with you

So last month I wrote the post "There's nothing wrong with you" about being told by well meaning people that I couldn't possibly have depression. That is one side of the depression coin, the people who don't believe you have it because you manage to smile sometimes. The other, much darker side of the coin, is the people who try to use your depression against you as a weapon.

I have one of those people in my life. They may be in the peripherals of my life, but sadly they have enough impact for their archaic, biggoted and uneducated views to affect me. In fact this person even tried to use this very blog against me. Using my own words, my own outpouring of truth and emotions, my own confessions of difficulty as a way to hurt me. They tried to turn my truth, my confessions, my words into a sword and to cut me down with it.

Taking advantage of my own moments of weakness, my own doubts, my own irrational fear of not being good enough, they attempted to kick me when I was down. They hoped, I believe, that they would pull the rug out from underneath me, that the weakness I have so readily shared would result in me falling into a crumbled mess of depression, unable to fight for myself. That rather than stand and fight I would run away, allowing them to have their own way.

Oh how they underestimated me. I will not turn and run. I will not ever hide. I've done that in the past, when I was young, unsure of myself, I will do it no more. There are too many broken, fractured people out there, too many people floating alone in the darkness. I speak out about my darkness for them as much as I do it for me. Depression is an illness, not a crime. The illness provides enough punishment without heaping aditional punishment onto the shoulders of those who suffer.

To anyone who ever tries to turn my depression into a weapon I say the following; My illness is a part of me but it does not define me. It may give me moments of weakness but I am not weak. I will now cower under threat from you. You may have broken me before but I'm stronger now and you will not break me again. Don't try and talk about depression when you have no understanding of it. Educate yourself and pull your head out of your arse. Oh and have a nice day (and by have a nice day I mean Fuck You!)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I don't want to do this anymore

I am so over it right now. Everything feels hard. Everything feels shit. Everything makes me want to cry. I don't want to be a person any more. I don't want to be an anything any more. My children are smart. They get good grades, score well on NAPLAN, their teachers love them. Why then must they continue to do stupid things? I am so sick of a child running to tell me that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, I am sick of them hurting each other, I am sick of them destroying things, I am sick of them whinging, complaining, walking past rubbish on the floor, leaving shit everywhere, pretending they can't see the dog wee on the floor, having rooms that looking like the aftermath of a break and enter. I am sick of washing dishes, of sweeping floors, of the endless amounts of washing and folding and cleaning and tidying and cooking and planning and thinking. I am sick of feeling guilty for not being able to do those things that I should be doing, of feeling guilty that my husband...

Week One... Or Should I Say Week Two Thousand One Hundred and Seventy Nine...

 That's how many weeks I have been alive (give or take a couple of days). Two thousand one hundred and seventy-nine. Yet here I am still fighting the same fights I have always fought. Self-image, self-acceptance, unrelenting standards, imposter syndrome.  Once again I find myself in a body that feels uncomfortable and unhealthy. It crept up on me slowly and suddenly all at the same time. I still barely eat any refined sugar. I turn down the lollies and cakes and doughnuts at work. It's not even a struggle, I no longer enjoy the way sugar makes my body feel. But my old nemesis, potato chips, remains undefeated. I eat potato chips to fill the emptiness in my soul. To feel as miserable physically as I do mentally or emotionally. To get comfort from an association with my childhood. It is the struggle I can't overcome. The war I can't win. So after months of trying on my own to no avail, months of the scales not budging, I have signed up for a healthy eating plan. I'm n...

Confessions of a Fat Girl

I have been concerned about my weight and appearance ever since I was 12. I was teased in primary school for being fat and called names like porky. Here is a picture from my Year 7 Graduation to illustrate how fat and disgusting I was I say fat and disgusting because I truly believed when I was 12 that I was some hideously fat monster that no boy would ever want to kiss, no boy would ever want to go out with, no boy would ever love. It makes me so sad looking at this photo to know that I was so slim, so pretty, my life should have been full of wonder and possibility. Instead I began my journey down the long dark road that has led me to the depths of depression and an obsession with my weight (but thankfully never an eating disorder) and today it has led me to make this confession... I am currently the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. I have eaten myself to the weight I never wanted to be. I am the exact thing I was teased for being. Along with the fact that I don...