Yes, I am clinically depressed. What does this mean? I have had my diagnosis verified by a series of medical professionals. So my self-loathing, and reason for feeling less deserving of life is a chemical miscalculation /malfunction, by whatever creator you hold to.
Some claim God made me this way, or I was formed as this being for a reason. Mostly, I don’t want to dig as deep as that to find the source for my issues. Honestly, it would be better for me to forget that I was made to strive and work so hard, just to be bearable for rest of society. The very idea makes me nauseous. I don’t WANT to fit in…but somehow the consensus of medical professionals believes that “fitting in”, is the cure to depression. If we all fall in line and follow the others, we SHOULD be happy.
And yet the media at large celebrates the massively overblown, and different “personalities”, in every screwed up person in “the biz”! And this is coming from a screwed up person! So you can imagine the irony I get slapped with when I see someone’s “crazy behavior ” plastered on every tabloid at the damn checkout, and I find myself thinking, “I can understand why they did that.”
How much am I actually screwed up?! How wrong or different am I? If I can find so-called crazy, as a rational reaction, then am I crazy, or normal-ish?! Is normal those people who believe this crap? Is that why I find it all insane to be “normal”? These are the loops of thinking that I spiral into, and stay awake for days, looking at and into, from every angle until my eyes feel like kaleidoscopes!
I’m nothing like THOSE people…right?
Yeh I spend days dreaming of running away. I have psychedelic nightmares, that give me convulsions. I don’t drink often. I take my prescribed meds. I take care of my family. I empower my children. I fluff my husband’s ego. I give my lover time when I can find it. I arrange appointments, parties, and visits. I do my routines, and stick to my schedules. I follow the script.
Maybe that’s why I think I’m not crazy. Routines, discipline, responsibilities. Things keeping me in line, filling my time so I don’t grab a razor; so I don’t runaway.
But why does that seem like the perfect dream? Running away. Not running from responsility, but from people. Everyone, except my kids. And I can’t uproot them. They are too fragile. I do my part for them . I follow instructions for them.
Slicing my skin and lying to my kids, “Mommy just has a boo-boo.” Funny thing, it’s always in the same place that mommy gets boo-boo’s. And soon they will understand the truth. How can I keep doing/thinking like this?
My chemical/synaptic malfunction. Knowing both routes in my life. And knowing I can only take the one that makes everyone else feel better and/or safe. Though, I do not feel safe, nor better. I never want to hurt people, but I don’t want them to know me either. How does that balance out, on the great cosmic scale? Does it settle evenly with the feather, or sink like the rock?
Drowning in a world that isn’t mine, but can also never be mine. Dreaming of a wild freedom, that also comes with guilt. Both choices are a sacrifice for me, and both hold benefits I cannot live without experiencing. So what is it? Is this why I’m depressed? Is it merely a matter of circumstance? Perhaps, a grand cosmic mistake to have placed me in this life. Maybe even a genetic failure, that was allowed to flourish. What if this is the next evolution of humanity. Perhaps this is how we finally find extinction.
No wonder I can’t sleep or make decisions.