Depression Tells Me....

I have been up and down the past few weeks. The lows haven’t been too bad, but enough to make me feel bad or sad or whatever. I guess they have been manageable. Prior to getting the necessary help, I probably wouldn’t have been able to cope with those “moments”. I was going to refer to it as “moments of weakness”, but I am not experiencing weakness. I am sick. I am having trouble finding the joys in things. I am not sure what is triggering these momentarily lapses of feelings and thoughts. I cannot pinpoint the problem. Therefore, I cannot work towards a solution.

This is what I know. Essentially, what I am being told.

Depression tells me I am not good enough. I wish it was a whisper. Rather, it is a loud booming noise. “You are not good enough to get a job. No one wants to hire you because of your sickness. There are too many uncertainties around your illness. You will show up to work depressed, therefore you will not be able to complete your work. Why would anyone take a chance with you? You have a Mental Illness. You are not adequately suited for any work.”

Depression tells me I am a failure of a father. “How often do you see your son? Where are you when he needs his daddy? How are you supporting him without a job? What kind of role model are you for him?” Not really questions I have answers for. The best reply I can come up with is, ‘I am doing my best given my illness and situation in my life.’ Trying to be a good parent and being a good parent are two different things. I know my son loves me and I him, but does he understand where daddy is? I try to fight the thoughts that my illness pollutes my mind with, but it is tough some days.

Depression tells me no can love me. Another valid point by the sickness. Depression seems to be a perfect three for three right now. “It will take a special person to deal with someone with a chronic illness. Not knowing what days will be good or bad, or how bad the bad days could be. Why would someone take a chance with you? Let’s be real here. You are poor. You don’t have a job. You have nothing. You cannot be loved. Just give up, T.J.” So, do I hide the fact that I suffer from Depression? Not a chance. I am what I am, but I am not my illness. It is apart of me and I have accepted that. It used to impair my ability to feel, think, and express myself. I would hide and bury my thoughts and feelings and emotions deep inside with my demons. Those days are now behind me because I have come to terms with my Depression. It has hindered me for years. It still tries to stop me from showing any emotions at all. It’s a game of tug-o-war.

Depressions tells me I am eventually going to lose. “Why do you keep fighting? You know I am going to get you. It’s a lost cause. You’re not strong enough to withstand the pain and torture. You’re just going round and around in circles. Remember, wherever you go, I am right there with you. You can’t hide from me. You can’t run from me. You have yet to fully get rid of me. It’s like a marriage, T.J.- until death do us part. And even then, there is no guarantee that the pain will be over.”

Depression tells me I am inadequate, stupid, out of shape, and ugly. “You have no confidence. You’re wasting your time with things. None of it matters. You’re not allowed to go to sleep and you’re not allowed to get out of bed in the morning. There is nothing for you outside of your bedroom. You are not allowed to have a life. No one cares if they see you again. Not your friends. Not your son. Not your family. No one cares T.J. You are nothing.”

Depression tells me a lot of things.

So, what do I tell Depression?

I tell Depression I am good enough. Not too sure what I am good at, but I am worthy of it. I will get a job and will not let my illness affect it. There may be some uncertainties, but I can control a lot of other things. I can control my attitude. I can control my work ethic. I can control my desire and passion. I am capable of working and wherever I land, they are going to be damn lucky to have me because I am determined to be the very best I can be. I tell Depression that the sky is the limit, and even then, I am prepared and willing to go beyond.

I tell Depression I am a good father. Check that. I am a great father. I may not spend all my time with my son given the current circumstances, but for us, it is about the quality of the time spent together, not the quantity. I may not be able to buy him all the things he wants, though I can teach him things money can’t buy. I can teach him about respect for others and respecting himself. I can teach him about manners and politeness. I can teach him about the importance of having a good, positive attitude. I can teach him how to get along with others. I can teach him how to share happiness with others. The last time I checked, these are all life ‘items’ you cannot buy at the toy store, or any store for that matter. Those are the ‘items’ that make up a person. There is a lot of unconditional love between us and everything else will develop as we grow.

I tell Depression that even though I am not the most desirable man right now, someone will love me again. I don’t have a dime and I don’t have a job. That being said, I don’t want a partner that is interested in my bank account or my job title. Those things are not required to love. Understanding. Compassion. Empathy. Character. Charisma. Laughter. Happiness. That’s what I can do. Those are the attributes I possess. Whoever my next girlfriend is will be my queen and treated as such. We may not have a castle, but there will be a special bond. I will look at her while she sleeps, smile to myself, and think, “Wow! I am the luckiest guy in the world.” Depression, you plagued my feelings and emotions before. Unable to love. That will not happen again.

I tell Depression I will not lose. I cannot lose. It is not an option. Of course, there are moments when you ‘think’ you got me or make interesting points about suicide, but you haven’t got me yet. I am strong enough. As your earlier point Depression, you are right- you are always with me. I cannot run. I cannot hide. But you know what I can do? I can fight. In a way, I have been fighting my whole life. I am going to continue to fight. I have taken some of your punches and blows. But, I am still here. I will endure the pain and torture you infect me with. You can keep trying, and I know you will. But every time you do so, there I will be, standing strong, awaiting your next attack. You have hit me pretty hard a few times, but we are still in the early rounds and I plan on going the full fifteen.

I tell Depression I am not stupid, I am getting in shape, and I may not be pretty, but I am not that ugly. I am slowly gaining my confidence. You may control, or perceive to control some aspects of my life- though; you don’t have all the control. Something inside me keeps reminding me, “T.J., you can and will do this.” There is a whole world for me outside of my bedroom. Yeah, I’ll admit, some days you lock me in my unguarded cell. Funny thing is, I have the key. Just some days I seem to misplace it. People do care about me. My family cares. My son cares. My friends care. I bet even some strangers care.

In closing Depression, I know this will not be our last encounter. I anticipate more and because you are sneaky, I won’t see you coming. I mean, rightfully so, I should be dead. I lost pretty much everything in a short period of time, and it was a great opportunity for you to blitz attack me. And you did. Masterful, even. I can admire your timing. You just about made me a statistic.

I am not dead. You threw everything, including the kitchen sink at me. I took it all on the chin. I am still here. I am going to stay for awhile. I reflect back on everything you and I have been through. I honestly should be gone from this Earth. I have the attitude and tenacity to try to handle you. I am not kidding myself and thinking you are gone. I know you are right around the corner from me, perhaps even closer. You have made many attempts on me. Your success rate is not good. Instead of me being afraid of you, maybe it is time for you to begin to fear me.

Your move, Depression.

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars”

-Khalil Gibran

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith