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

How to do all the things

I am so tired of people telling other people how to do any and all of the things. What words you can say if you're over 30, what music to like, what movies are ok to admit you enjoy, how you should be using your phone, facebook, instagram, twitter, toothbrush, kitchen sink, how you should live your life, spend more time being in the moment, not be on antisocial social media, what you should and shouldn't feel good or bad about, how people should or shouldn't be parents, women, men, feminists, activist, human beings. It just goes on and on. Here's an idea. If you don't like the way I do things or the words I say you have two choices. If you genuinely like me then you can choose to put up with the things about me that don't mesh 100% with the way you live your life (as I do with many of the people I love when it's not a deal breaker like racism or violence) or you can remove me from your facebook, twitter, instagram, life. That's it. Those are your two o...

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...

Waiting

I am sitting in the hospital waiting. I suppose I am waiting for the hand of death to touch my cousin and end the pain she is in. She is getting worse and she keeps suffocating. She told her sister yesterday that her worst fear was dying and not being able to breathe, I can only imagine how horrifying it must be for her. Everyone seems to be getting ready for the end. There is lots of spontaneous declarations of how much this sucks. We have just heard that she has said she doesn't want to do it any more. It can't be long now. What a thing to be waiting for. I feel so small and helpless and inadequate. I wish there's was something I could do. There is a group standing in the hallway. Like they are lining up for some kind of attraction at the fair. I wish they would all sit down. There are periods of idle chatter and then suddenly everyone feels quietly like the weight is too much to bear. It is one of the most horrible experiences I have ever had. As the sun is going down th...