Me verses The Illness

I am NOT a drama queen. I have an anxiety disorder. A real, diagnosed, and medicated disorder that makes the mole hills feel like mountains.

I am NOT a ditz. I take medications that make me forget things. Plus, stress makes every one's mind a little spotty.

I am NOT incapable, or lazy. I am depressed. Again, a real, diagnosed, disorder that is being treated with medication and psychotherapy.

I do NOT choose to be this way. Clinical depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in one's brain. It is not something that can be controlled or stopped. It is an illness, just like any other illness.

I am NOT weak, or feeling sorry for myself. A genuine feeling of hopelessness, or helplessness, is also part of my disorder from time to time. I can not think my way out of it, and it makes it very hard to stay motivated when you feel like nothing you do matters.

I am NOT a victim. I have an illness. I wish I did not, but much like physical illness, it is not a condition I could have prevented. In fact, it is probably LESS preventable than some physical illnesses.

I am NOT crazy for cry for no apparent reason. I do not always know why I am feeling sad. It is one of the symptoms of depression. I may not understand why I am crying, and I may cry at random. Again, brain chemicals, or sometimes hormones causing my brain chemicals, to get out of wack.

I am NOT over reacting. I have real emotions, and real feelings. I am allowed to have these feelings. To me they are real, and valid, even if they are exaggerated by my disorders.

I am NOT a out of control. I often realize my feelings are disproportional to an event. People with anxiety and mood disorders have mood swings. Again, a very common symptom of these illnesses.

I am NOT attention seeking. I would actually rather have you not notice me when I am struggling. The last thing I want is to be pitied. It only makes me feel worse about myself at a time when I am already low.

Like many illnesses, my metal illness requires life style changes that sometimes make me feel as though it has taken over my entire life. During the darkest parts of my depression I find that I need to remind myself what is me, and what is illness. Because the symptoms often effect my mood and personality, it is hard to remember who I am innately verses what is a symptom of a nasty desease.

I Don't Know

One of the things I find the most frustrating about my depression is constantly have to answer the questions "What's wrong with you?" "Why are you so upset?" "Are you ok?" "Why are you crying?" Let me see. What IS wrong with me? Why AM I so upset? There is a lot of stress in my life right now, but the plain and simple truth is that I DON'T KNOW what is wrong with me. I DON'T KNOW why I am so upset. I am ok, but I am not good, but I do know there is no amount of advice you can give me to change that. Yes, I understand it sounds strange, but no I DO NOT know why I am crying. It reminds me of when my cousin was little and would get in trouble. When my aunt would be upset he would ask "Mommy happy?" "She would reply, "Nooooo mommy is sad." And he would say, "No mommy happy. Mommy happy" as though if he believed hard enough he could will her to being happy again. Even Chuck, who understands what depression the illness and not the mood is about, after seeing me down for so long, begins to say things like "Why aren't you happy, Honey?" Or "What's wrong baby? Cheer up. I love you. Doesn't that make you happy?" Well, of course I feel happy to be loved, but that doesn't mean I feel happy at that moment. I know he means well, and I know my friends are concerned about me. BELIEVE me if I knew why I was so sad, or what would make me happy I would be all over it. Just like my cousin with my upset aunt, no amount of someone else wishing happiness upon me will help me either. I am depressed clinically depressed. I mean I guess technically I DO know what's wrong with me. What's wrong is the chemicals in my brain are different than those of a "normal" person's brain; therefore, I have to take a medication to alter the chemicals in my brain in order to feel better. Because of this deficiency I am not able process stress and anxiety the way other people do. That does not make it easier to live with, nor does it make it easier for other people to watch me go through. But it is a road I have traveled before, and a road I am sure I will travel again. It is a road with a lot of peaks and valleys, and THAT is all I know.