What Is Depression?

What is depression? You’re really low for a long time, maybe talk to a counselor a couple of times, get some medication, and then you feel okay again. Medication is a joke. I don’t need medicine to feel better, I need happiness. It’s that simple, right? It’s comical that after multiple suicide attempts and hospitalizations I still believe this is true. If I’m happy my depression can’t touch me.

You know what depression really is? Depression is spending a night with all your friends, who are all there to celebrate you, and feeling like no one cares about you. Depression is the day after such an amazing night feeling like you can’t wait to curl up in your bed and be alone. Depression is waking up Monday morning and going to a yoga class that always makes you feel better, just to come home, sit in silence on the couch, and hold a bottle of wine between your legs when you put it down between sips. Depression is knowing that you shouldn’t touch that bottle of wine because it only ends up hurting you more in the end, but not caring because it’s the only thing that eases the pain. Depression is wanting nothing more than to not be on this planet anymore, but also knowing you’re not supposed to feel this way, so you don’t say anything to anyone. Depression is feeling so lonely, even when you KNOW you’re not alone. Depression is suffocating.

Depression is knowing you need to call for help and never feeling okay enough to do it. Depression is debilitating enough that even if you get yourself that appointment, you never show up. Depression is hearing the woman on the phone say, “If you don’t show up one more time, we can’t have you as a patient,” and knowing you’ll probably never get help because you can’t guarantee you make it next time either. Depression is showing even the slightest bit of emotion and being crazy. Depression is wanting to defend yourself, but knowing there’s no use because no matter what you say, you’re always wrong. Depression is not even trusting those around you because they don’t understand, so nothing will be taken the way you meant it. Depression is not being angry at the world, it’s being angry at yourself, constantly, even when things are out of your control. Depression isn’t a fashion statement, it’s the reason you can’t get dressed, or brush your teeth, or even get out of bed. Depression is not even wanting to pet your dog because he thinks so highly of you and you know you aren’t that person. Depression is constantly holding my hand, and it’s constantly apologizing for feeling—when I don’t even know why I feel the way I do. Depression is constantly replaying mean or hurtful things in your head, even if you know it was supposed to be a joke. Depression is pain. A whole lot of it. Depression is not even knowing if your thoughts even make sense to anyone but yourself, but you keep writing anyways because it feels so good to let it all out. Depression is balling your eyes out trying to define what it means to you because you don’t even understand it yourself.

Why aren’t I good enough? Will I ever be? When will I ever be okay? Am I supposed to be? Is it even in the cards for me? The thing about depression and treatment is that there’s a ton of blind optimism that one day things will get better. The thing is, with depression, I can’t be anything other than pessimistic.