I'm Depressed, but Don't Hug Me...

I have MDD- Major Depressive Disorder.

95% of the people in my life don't have a clue. In addition, I have general anxiety disorder. So yep, I'm a mess! That being said, after a long, hard-fought battle, I decided to seek help.

Now I am doing much better. I still have days where the darkness creeps in, the worries take over and life is hard. I can go weeks without wanting to leave my house or put on make-up or do my hair. I've accepted my situation and am constantly working to improve; to train my mind on ways to avoid this darkness; to use the things that motivate me and keep me happy to stay on the right track.

As I mentioned, this was a long battle before I got to a stable place. It's embarrassing to realize and accept that you have depression and need medicine to help regulate a mind you once were able to control so well and to know that you could spiral at any time and no one (including yourself) would understand why or how this happened or when it will end.

After months of crying and thinking of every physically possible way to end the suffering, I finally went to a psychiatrist. He was a bit confused why I waited so long before seeking help. I just didn't want to accept that I could not control my own thoughts. I'll spare you the details for today on what I feel may have started this downward spiral but once I found out that this was happening and I needed help, I informed two of the only people I felt I could trust with this information at the time.

A week or two later and after my meds had helped to regulate my mind a bit, I was invited to a get-together at a friend's house. I reluctantly agreed and immediately regretted it when I got there. I arrived and a girl who I would not claim to be a "friend" but we'd hung out a few times walks straight up to me and puts her arms out with a sympathetic look in her eyes and hugs me. She then says, "How are you?" to which I replied my perfectly rehearsed, "I'm great, how are you?" All the while I began to die inside. The tears were burning my eyes as I held them back. I quickly walked away from the conversation and sat, coldly, in the chair along the side wall hoping no one would even notice I was there.

The motivation to go out with our friends had been stripped. Not only did I feel like I was getting sympathy from her when I had not even told her, but now I felt paranoid. Like the entire group of people I see often is going to judge me and watch my every move. Heaven forbid if I post a message on social media discussing mental health or anxiety or if I say anything about having a bad day. I will get messages in my inbox from people I hardly know asking if everything is Ok.

I understand your need to "protect" me from myself. But showing sympathy to someone who has just found out about and is working on accepting their own depression is just a reminder that they are going through hard times and now everyone knows it.

I am no longer ashamed of it, I have accepted it, I have researched it, I have learned about the signs, the emotions, the irrationality of depression and anxiety. I want others to know more about it as well. But what I don't want is everyone walking around giving out sympathy hugs. We (people with depression) are not constantly crying or sad. It may come in waves for many of us, it may be more consistent for others. BUT, if we are out in public and smiling, we are trying to have a good time. Sometimes even forcing ourselves to enjoy the night. Please do not give me a sympathy hug that just reminds me of the battle that I am fighting daily and was winning for today until you just reminded me that maybe I'm not....

And for the love of all things happy, if you know someone has depression and you offer them a drink, allow them to decline respectfully without pressuring them or asking a million questions about why they aren't drinking tonight.

Until next time...