my depression, in retrospect.

my depression is a harassed feeling. it’s a byproduct of all the searching for happiness i’ve done but falling short. it’s the loss of hope that it exists.

my depression is a resolute feeling. one where i accept that happiness may be out of my reach, and that hope is one vague, misleading thing.

my depression is a reserved feeling. one that i don’t share with people because i don’t want them to look at me differently or pity me.

my depression is a real feeling. one that’s persisted for weeks, months and years. it’s the one thing that hasn’t changed growing up, the one thing that doesn’t leave me.

i’m not trying to glorify my depression, but i need to give it its due credit. through all the ups and downs i’ve faced, my depression has kept me grounded. unfortunately reminding me that within each passing happy moment that “this too shall pass” and i will return to the same state: broken.

my depression breaks me down and fills me up. it’s the glue that binds the pieces of my heart to each other, and still the reason my heart breaks.

oh what i would do to have a day without my depression, a day where i can feel ‘normal’ and experience what that is.

my depression is an anchor, it’s the reason i’m stuck yet still the reason i don’t sink. because it never leaves me, it’s never forsaken me. it’s put me through hell, but comforted me through the fire.

some days, it feels like my depression is all i am, all i can ever be. what would i look like without this diagnosis? how would i be without these pills that sort the chemical imbalances in my brain? would i choose to keep going without it? my depression drives me so badly to prove it wrong, and at the end of the day, my depression is the reason i try so hard.