Sometimes I feel so insecure as shit and I think about myself and these words are coming into my mind : “fat”, “ugly”, “small piece of shit”, “worthless”, “unattractive” etc. They just appear in my mind and all I want at that very moment is to write them down on my arms or my legs. And I think about how bad I want to take my razor blades and just do it. Just to let the pain go away. Just to make these words disappear from my mind. Just to be able to fucking sleep without feeling this way.

But then I remember those words are already on my arms and/or legs. I remember I’ve already done that to myself.

And I realise I still want to do it again.

And I think that’s what hurts the most.

People who eventually learn about your depression are all THE SAME, it’s so fucking frustrating. They’ll try to cheer you up, make you feel better, and in a way, it’s really good. It’s nice to have people you know you can count on to make you feel less shitty in your everyday life. It’s great to know you can talk to someone about your problems, someone who’ll care, who’ll try to understand. 

BUT, there’s something really important people don’t seem to understand : DEPRESSION IS A MENTAL ILLNESS THAT CANNOT BE FIXED. 

IT. HAS. NO. FUCKING. CURE.

That’s the whole point. It’s a disease. I. Am. Sick. I’m not just “tired” or “sad”. There are no easy solutions. Actually, there’s something wrong with my brain. With my biology. With my molecules or something. With things that no one can really modify or fix. It’s inside my MIND. How could anyone do anything about it? It’s not like people could literally go inside my mind and fix the broken parts, like they usually do with physical injuries.  

Alright, people? Is that clear? 

Sono need to come and try to fix me, to cure me, or to give me stupid advices like “just go talk to a therapist” or “take some medication” or even “try to be a little happier” like if there was an easy answer to fix the problem. 

I’m like “no!!!!!” 

First of all, these people don’t know ANYTHING about my mental health, about my personal situation, about my story and about how I’m handling things (or not). They don’t know anything and they just assume. And you know, it’s always really irritating to hear people talk to you about YOUR disease like if they knew it better than you do. I’m like “yeah, you’ve known I’m sick since like two minutes but sure, you probably know my illness better than me - who, btw, have been living it for the past TWENTY FUCKING YEARS.” 

Then, even if they do know a lot about mental illness, or about me, it’s NOT their job to fix me or cure me! It’s not their responsibility. I feel like most of people are just helping me because of moral duty, you know? Like they want to be good people, heros, social justice warriors. They want to feel good about themselves. And in the end, they’re not happy because I’m supposedly “better” but because they THINK they cured me, they think they did a good action. 

WHY CAN’T PEOPLE ACCEPT THE FACT THAT I AM SICK AND THAT THERE’S NOTHING THEY CAN DO ABOUT IT??? 

I’m not even asking them to cure me or to do anything in order to make me feel better, cause I know it’s very complicated, if not impossible! I’m just asking them to be there for me, to care, to talk to me… But instead, they just want to fix you like you’ve just got a broken leg or something! UGH. So annoying.  

RESPECT MY GODDAMN DISEASE AND STOP MAKING EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. 

Today I felt sadness again. I know what you might be thinking : “but you’re depressed! You have a blog about depression. Sadness isn’t new for you”. Well, it is. Sadness is not something I experiment a lot, in my everyday life.

It’s been a long time since I felt sad, and I mean sad in the literal way. It wasn’t like the usual stuff. It didn’t feel like my depression. It didn’t feel like when I’m having my crisis. I didn’t feel like me being depressed. 

It felt totally different.

You see, my depression is very violent. When it happens, when it suddenly hits me, it hurts so much that I can’t even breathe anymore. I feel anxious, panicked, broken, hurt. But not sad. Not usually. Mostly, I panic, I cry, I scream, I hit my walls, I break stuff, I run if I can… And then, when the crisis is over, I feel this horrible feeling of loneliness, hopelessness, and emptiness growing inside of me, eating me up, stopping me from doing anything.

But I don’t feel sad.My depression is more about PAIN. But not necessarily sadness. And I haven’t feel sad for a really long time… To be completely honest with you guys, I almost forgot how it felt. When it happened to me today, I was confused and kinda lost for a while. I was like “what is this feeling? This is not how it usually feels like.”

I understood, later, it was just basic sadness.  

Why I was feeling sad today is not important or relevant. The reason doesn’t matter. My point is :sadness is really hard to feel too; and it has nothing to do with depression. I knew that already but today I’ve lived it. 

I almost forgot about it but sadness is really difficult to handle too. We often forget what it’s like to feel sad. Just sad, not depressed. Sadness is this feeling you have in your guts that makes you believe you will never be happy again. Like,it takes all your joy away and leaves you just like that. It feels like you will never be able to smile or laugh again. It’s really weird, cause you don’t really want to cry or anything. It’s like you’re shut down. You don’t want to do anything but listen to sad songs and think about whatever it is that makes you sad. It’s like a whole new state you’re into.

Sadness is pretty damaging too. To me, depression is worse, of course. But when you haven’t felt sad for a very long time and it hits you again, it’s really hard. You’re like “oh yeah, I remember it now, it sucks too!”

Anyway, what I learnt from this experience is that : once again, sadness and depression are not the same thing. You can feel sad, it doesn’t mean you’re depressed. And depression doesn’t always come with sadness.

I thought I was doing better. Like not in a “Everything’s fine and I’m totally cured” way or anything. But for a while I felt, I don’t know, a little less bad about myself or about my life. And I remember I told myself it was good, I was making progress and I started believe maybe I could do it. But I felt down again. Harder, deeper, darker. I had another crisis, a mental breakdown. It was horrible. I almost forgot how the pain felt. When it hit me again, I broke down so damn hard I thought I was gonna die, suffocating. And it’s always like that. I think I’m doing better and then some shit happens and I keep making the same mistakes and I realize I’m still so fuckep up. It just feels like this will never end. It feels like nothing will ever change, and I will stay in this vicious circle my whole life. And God, I’m tired of this.

Parents can be stupid sometimes

I love when people say “just talk with your parents about your mental illness, they’ll understand and they’ll be able to help you!”. 

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my friends might be having a depression. You know what they said? “Oh, God, don’t you dare doing that to us too!” THAT was my mom’s reaction. And my stepfather just nodded and added “Please, we already have enough troubles!”

So I don’t know why, but no, I’m not really looking forward to have that conversation with them…