Collateral Damage

No matter how hard one tries to conceal their depression, when the duration is long and/or it reaches an extreme, the ability to keep everything hidden is impossible. I've tried to keep as much to myself as I absolutely could. Not just for selfless reasons, though I'd like to think that has been a significant part. I understand how living with someone who is suffering from depression and anxiety can wear on the people around them. Even if the person suffering doesn't voice it. It's just there. You can feel the heaviness in the atmosphere. And knowing your disease has an impact on those around you makes it even worse. It adds guilt to the pain that already exists. It's painful to know you are responsible for hurting the people you love the most and that you've done so involuntarily.

But then you wonder, is it wholly involuntary?

I've asked myself this question over and over again when I am having a particularly down time and what little patience my family has for me has clearly worn thin. It's during these times where their resentment is only half-heartedly concealed. On their own, depression and anxiety feel like a punishment. The show of resentment just feels like additional punishment, albeit one which I believe is not fully a conscious reaction on their part, but vehemently denied when I point it out. That may seem selfish-to call them on it instead of just letting it go- but in all fairness to myself, my issues have never been met with very much patience or understanding. I cannot count the times I have been told to "just get over it" or to "knock it off," which are fairly light compared to some of the more cruel words that have been thrown in my direction. And honestly, if it were as easy as just getting over it or knocking it off, would I still be in this mess? No. Their other method of dealing with me is by walking away. I think I prefer temporary abandonment over the very palpable resentment. I've grown accustom to being alone and it has become my preference-a more comfortable form of dismissal.

I sincerely hope with every fiber of my being that I am able to get these issues under control and lead a truly productive life. So many years of trying and failing will not allow me to invest the level of hope I wish I could. It seems like every step I've taken in faith to become well has betrayed me. All I want is a normal life. No more pretending. No more just phoning it in. I am nine days in and the medication I am currently taking is not giving me any significant trouble and for the first time in more years than I can remember I think I am not feeling as badly as I usually do. It's really too soon to tell. It could be wishful thinking on my part-a little mind over matter-in which I wholeheartedly believe.

My entire adult life has primarily been spent taking care of others and putting myself last. I'm still not going to put myself first, it's just not in my nature. But I am going to work harder on taking better care of me. In doing that, maybe I can take better care of those around me. Those whom I love. Those who have become the collateral damage as a result of my disease.