Hypothetically, let’s say your friend called you and asked if you wanted to hang out. But you had to decline the invitation because you had come down with the flu. Your friend would probably ask if you needed anything or how they could help you. I mean, you are under the weather. The thing your friend probably wouldn’t do is start saying things about your condition that would make you feel scolded or judged. They wouldn’t question who you’ve been around or your personal hygiene. They would just want to help.
However, when a person finds the courage to tell someone that they are depressed, that same support isn’t always available. Why do you feel so bad? You aren’t alone. You have so much going for you. I’m here for you. Why didn’t you call me? Sometimes the circumstances have nothing to do with the diagnosis.
My first time ever seeing a professional for depression was at age 13. At age 41, I still battle depression. No matter how many family members I have, friends I have, or therapist I see, I still battle depression. It doesn’t mean I’m losing the battle. It simply means I fight, and win, my battle regularly.
This year for Easter Sunday, a day that I would usually host a large family dinner, I was respecting the guidelines set under the quarantine of 2020. I missed my family. I missed cooking. I missed fellowship. I missed the chaotic normalcy that I had fallen in love with over the years, and I felt depressed. I still video chatted with my son. I spent time with my younger children at home. I even video chatted with my siblings, nieces, and nephews. However, I still battled my depression that day.
The diagnosis of depression doesn’t mean a person’s life is bottoming out and they’ve lost appreciation for the wonderful things around them. It means their reality has become painful in some respect. Just as a person sick with the flu would want the non-judgmental help of a loved one, a person battling depression could use the same.
April 27, 2020 marks the three-year anniversary of losing my boyfriend suddenly. There’s a chance it will be a depressing day. It could just be sad and cause me to shed a few tears. Or it could be depressing and cause me to feel mentally and physically drained. Either way, I know that I have family that loves me. I know I have friends that care. I know I have resources available to handle the grief, and I’m confident that I can win the battle against my depression, yet again.
After spending a year in grief counseling, I started to see that my life needed a major overhaul. Yes, my boyfriend died making me the single mom of our infant twins, but I was still grieving my loss of innocence from decades of abuse. I decided to turn my pain into a new purpose and to share this journey with others that may need some motivation.