Sometimes this is a forbidden word. No one wants to ask the depressed person how it’s going because let us be honest; you don’t want to hear it. Or more accurately, you don’t want to know the real feelings; you want them to make you feel better because they asked you. So you do what all depressed people and you put on your mask that wears a smile. And, just like that, you’ve been checked off their to-do list until next time.
Intentions and dreams
I’m a big fan of intentions and dreams. One of my dreams(#8 actually) is that “When I smile, I actually mean it.”
This is a dream of mine because I want to take off my mask. There are two ways that will happen:
- I’ll either miraculously no longer have depression and anxiety, or
- The world will have learned how to best help people with these illnesses.
I don’t have a strong hope for either of these options to happen. I dream of a better world that is more accepting of mental illnesses and can handle tears as well as laughter.
Heading towards this dream, one of the ways that I help others is by putting my thoughts into words. Even if those words sound jumbled or maybe they don’t make sense to you, it is me. All of me.
There is nothing quite as terrifying to me than knowing that I need to alter my meds. The signs are showing, and I’m doing my best to ignore them or attribute them to what’s happening in life(not whats no longer working in my head). Changing meds means that you are altering the person you’ve finally worked so hard for. So you cry in the bathroom, have a full blown panic attack, put on your big girl panties and go to your doctors’ waiting room.
What comes next is what I like to call the lottery of side effects. You’re betting big! It is your life we’re talking about here, and there is no higher all in than your life.
Currently, it feels like there is a thick fog in my brain that doesn’t allow me to speak correctly, think, write or to just be apart of my own life. It is as if I’m watching my life happen too and around me. This fog is dense, and it makes me exhausted, tired and confused. I repeat myself to my husband, and I feel sad that I went from excited to tell a story to, annoying and I’ve already heard this. Is this his fault? No.
You get all the fun side effects before the benefits(at least that’s the intention, sometimes new meds can make everything worse) kick in.
What happens next
I wait. Depression waits. My doctor waits. My family waits for their wife, mother, and child to come back.
Photo by: francescoch On iStock