Depression tells is it’s all about us.
“But wait,” you say.
“I thought it tells is it is never about us. That we don’t matter, that we are insignificant.”
Yes. That’s also true. Are you confused? Yeah, so am I. All. The. Time. Now, what prompted this disconcerting and confusing thought process? Well, that would be my depression, the all-time-winner of the “let’s make Melissa’s life hellish” competition. Okay, that was a bit dramatic, but since this is my blog I think I’ll allow it this time. *insert winkey face here* 😉 <– haha, right.
So here’s what happened: Yesterday evening my mood crashed hard. I was having self harm urges, I wanted to isolate, and I was feeling thoroughly miserable. I didn’t do either of those things, instead asking my sisters and her girlfriend to play cards. After a couple rounds of my favorite game I asked to stop, because I felt like I couldn’t handle it. (By “it,” of course, I mean everything including having fun.) They started watching funny YouTube videos and I excused myself from the room and went and sat on the floor in a dark landing/hallway. After a few minutes I started wondering why no one was coming to find me, drag me back, and make me feel better. I was becoming angry and I felt neglected and unimportant.
This was part of my journal entry from last night:
My mind had become enveloped and consumed by a self-harm-desire induced anxiety and the “need” to isolate. I felt unable to participate, to yield to the positivity that surrounded me[…] And worse still, I felt like an emotional burden. I was so miserable that I felt continuing in my poor mood would make everyone else miserable too. So, we stopped playing and I left the room for a few minutes. For a moment I almost fell into a trap of the mind. I started feeling resentful and unimportant, upset that no one “cared enough” to come check on me, to bring me back to them and the fun. Before I fell too deeply into that hole, I gave myself a mental shake. I told myself, “It’s not all about you.” I didn’t say it meanly, but it was important to realize and understand that I wasn’t (and shouldn’t be) the focus of everything. Are they supposed to drop everything they’re doing to come find me and try to “make” me come back, have fun, and feel better? No! Also, sometimes when I’m depressed (or upset) and I leave a room I want to be followed and other times I want to be left alone. Are they supposed to magically read my mind and know what I want? Ha! No!
After my mental shake, I went back and rejoined my family. After a while I was even able to lower my mental walls and enjoy myself.
But just reflecting on my evening, I realized that depression can play weird tricks on my perception. Of course I already knew this to an extent, but it reminded me to remember, “Hey, it’s not always about me.”
And that’s just right.