Depression Isn’t Sexy

I didn’t realize it was a thing.

Romanticizing the darkness, like it’s a melancholy melody of minor chords swirling like black glitter around you in some fantasy dream. Being seduced by depression, as if there’s a “bad boy” hiding in it, waiting to have his way with you and you don’t really mind.

Can I put a pin in these thought balloons?

Depression isn’t sexy. There’s nothing romantic or invigorating about wrestling with your own brain, day and night. There’s nothing fun about being bullied and kicked around–and it’s not even like an attractive bully you could grow to love, it’s like the teenage boy in high school with yellow smoker’s teeth, who smelled foul and spoke fouler–the one whose boxers shamelessly puckered out of their saggy jeans.

Depression has a grating voice which can always be heard in the recesses of your brain, and there’s no recess from that sound.

“You can’t do it.”

“You’ll never get out of this.”

“You’re stuck. You’ll always be stuck.”

“One good choice won’t change anything.”

“If you ever quit doing *random good habit*, you’ll never be able to get back in the routine.”

“Look how much you’ve slacked. Every time you get something started, you can’t keep it going.”

“So-and-so doesn’t have a problem doing these things.”

“So-and-so can manage all these things well, and you can’t even get one done.”

“If you talk about it, people will think you’re wanting attention. Or, worse, sympathy.”

“If you say you’re struggling, they’ll think you’re suicidal.”

“If you say you’re in a rut, they’ll tell you to just take tiny steps–those tiny steps you aren’t able to take anyway.”

“Medicine is for people who are too weak to work through this.”

“Who wants to be controlled by pills?”

“You know, you’re right, you do suck at life.”

And it never stops.

Most of the mental health articles online tell you, “Just do this small thing, just take this small step.” Well, sorry Susan, but if I could take the freakin’ small step we wouldn’t be here, ok?

It’s trying to do tasks without motivation, and the energy backup keeps getting cut off by a cement block falling onto it repeatedly. The more you try to out-think yourself, to short-circuit your brain, the worse it gets. Does this sound romantic to you?

Contrary to the online stock images, not all girls look attractive and stare seductively out the window while they’re depressed. Sometimes they’re curled up in bed, in the same clothes they’ve worn for the past three days, with unshaved legs and a terrible case of bedhead.

Sometimes you eat, and eat, and eat. Some days you just pick at your kids’ food and call it good.

Showering can be as exhausting as the thought of scaling Mt. Everest. Leaving the house can be as challenging as prepping for a critical interview–self-conscious, anxiety-ridden, sometimes debilitating.

It’s simple stuff…but depression makes it challenging, with becomes frustrating, which turns into self-loathing. It’s a vicious cycle.

When I post on my blog, I like tying it up neatly, like a nice little ribbon around it, to make the writing a thorough, complete package.

However, not all the things God gives us in life are neat and tidy. They don’t all make sense. They’re not always comfortable. Whatever our lot in life, though, God goes with us and grows us. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be growing into, or growing out of, with these episodes of depression.

But you’ll be the first to read about it when I find out.

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