Does Depression Define Who I am?


For a long time I hid depression in little compartments in my head where no one else could see, and I was just the piss artiste amongst my friends, the life and soul of the party and the one who could always be counted on for a good time. Little did they know it was all just a massive cover up.

Don’t get me wrong I love being the life and the soul of any good party, but there comes a time, when the hangover kicks in for the 3rd time this week when I have to take a look around and think… what the fuck am I doing?

Depression is a very queer thing to have in the back of your head, and it takes some balls to come out and say it proud ‘I’m depressed’. I did this 3 years ago, and my friends were amazingly supportive, and so were my family. But it’s so very hard to understand if you’ve never experienced it.

How do you explain to someone that you can’t get out of bed today because life has no meaning, and you can’t see your purpose in life. That you don’t want visitors because the small talk is just meaningless when the world as you know it crumbling down around you. How can you possibly think that I would care what colour your new curtains are when all I want is for the light to go out and I want to dream about another world, where I don’t feel the way I do.

Over the past 8 years whilst suffering with depression, I’ve had this constant battle with myself; On one side there is the ‘depression is an illness, you can’t help it and things just happen’ then there is the other-side ‘depression can be fought and beaten now man up and fight’ I go through phases on being on each side of this battle, the general cycle is that I fight it head on, but depression is a strong army, and it is relentless, it doesn’t get tired, it doesn’t stop for a tea break and it doesn’t stop pounding inside my head. So when I get tired of fighting … I just… stop. I spend longer in bed, I care less about my work, I care less about my friends/family and I care less about myself. Then I get up one day and the battle commences once more. same old cycle.

What scares me the most is if one day I don’t fight, and the day for another battle to commence never happens, what then? What happens when the cycle stops and I have given up for good? death? suicide? hospital? It doesn’t bare thinking about. It breaks my heart to think, that I will never fight so hard and that one day, I’ll just stop

Over the years the battle whether to accept depression or try and conquer it comes and goes. But does it define me? No.

Depression does not define me, It is a part of who I am, what defines me is my will to carry on, whether it be alone and down and depressed or fighting the good fight against it.

Don’t define me by my illness, define me by my strength to never give up.


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