After Saturday’s post, I have a whole new level of understanding around why it is hard to talk publicly about depression.
Not that I regret sharing. The comments on what people do to self-care were so enlightening. The number of “me, toos” that came in made me feel so much less alone and more normal. And, the check-ins from my friends by phone, text and e-mail filled me with gratitude for the love and support that I have.
So, not for a moment am I complaining. Quite the opposite.
But the thing about depression is that it thrives in the dark and in the isolation. When I took that away, and when I shone the light right into it’s scaly little eyes, wow was it uncomfortable!
In fact, the vulnerability was excruciating. Squirmy, skin crawling, bolt for the door, in the firing line excruciating. Every fibre in my being was saying Run! Hide! Don’t let them see you! Don’t talk to me or acknowledge me!
And as much as I hate it when people worry about me – who me? I’m fine – I think what I really fear is that people will pity me. Or that people will think I am pitying myself. After all, who am I to complain! Snap out of it!!!
Things are much better today.
The self-care helped. The writing helped. The sunshine helped. Talking helped. Friends helped. Hugs helped.
Growth happens at the edge of our comfort zone. Dammit.