I Wish I Actually Understood My Depression


Like 7% of the American population, I have depression.

However, this percentage is probably much higher for those with depression. This only accounts for those that have sought the help and received a diagnosis.

So, yes, I have depression. And anxiety. And I am also going to therapy for grief counseling, but let’s focus on depression – or at least try to.

My depression comes in waves. Sometimes it’s like my morning alarm and no matter how hard I try to shut it off, I will cover my ears and still hear it. I still hear it.

Recently it’s been a sad bubble in my chest. It just sits there.

It doesn’t rise from my stomach or come down when I swallow air in a sad attempt to breathe and “keep going.” It’s just there.

I’ll be sitting in the passenger seat and singing along to music and I’ll look outside. I’ll come back to singing and suddenly feel heavy, like the weight decided now to appear out of thin air. Like a bowling ball is being pushed against my chest.

Pressure. And I’m stuck.

Sometimes it feels like I’m being both crushed by this bowling ball while also feeling this “sad bubble” from within expand and push out of my rib cage.

I want to know why my depression makes such beautiful moments, such simple moments, have a blue hue. Why must moments be tainted with nostalgia and a sense of bittersweetness?

I want to know I’m not the only one who can be content one moment and then feel like an absolute wreck the next. My love of rollercoasters subsides when I feel my emotions go on this ride over and over and over again.

I want to understand my depression. I’d like to know why I doubt everyone’s love for me. I’m a mess – who could love me?

I want to be friends with my depression and realize that, “Yes, my depression is struggling, too.”

I’m caught between acknowledging my depression as a part of me or as a tumor that I have to treat.

I want to know it gets better – that there’s a light at the end of this dark, dusty, and lonely tunnel. That the tunnel I used to sing underneath with friends can hear songs and melodies from happy voices again.

I want to know I’ll feel better and I’ll feel worse, but this is all worth it in the end. I’m starting to feel like not trying. It has gotten to the point where I don’t want to be treated for any of my issues because… why bother?

I want to acknowledge my depression and let it know, it’s not alone.

I’m right here. I’m going through the same struggle it is.

I want to know my depression.