Real Moments: Depression

Real people experience real moments. Yeah, real people experience those picture-perfect moments that you see plastered all over your social media, but first and foremost, they experience real moments.

Real moments with real emotions that can’t always be explained. Real moments with other real people. Real moments with less than perfect circumstances. Real moments like fighting with the person you love the most, or thinking the most depressing thoughts, or doing something that you know you’ll regret.

            So, I’m sharing my real moments, because maybe it will help you realize that everyone has them and people are more similar than we like to think most of the time. So as much as I hope you don’t relate to any of these, I also really hope you do.

Being Depressed:

            I have always considered myself a happy-go-lucky, spunky, joyful person. But there was one time that I was super depressed. Like not just the sad-depressed, like depressed-depressed.

            I think it started when I first saw Mexico City. It’s huge. I remember flying over it for the first time, with its endless red-roofed buildings as far as the eye could see. My throat tightened as the tears gathered on the edges of my eyes. I think that is the first time the thought crossed my mind: “You’ll probably never see him again.” I just cleared the tears for the time being and stepped off the plane into a new country.

            The depression peaked when my father had a reconstructive surgery and was diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. That day was hard. The lowest moment occurred just an hour after I had been told the news. I walked back to the school by myself in the rain. I figured getting back to work would help get my mind off it. I ended up crying on the phone to a friend. Then I found myself on the floor of the kids’ bathroom sobbing to myself.

            It continued on after that. I cried myself to sleep most nights. Getting out of bed was hard. Interacting with people was harder. I heard more bad news what seemed like every other day. I grew bitter towards all those around me.

Everything became robotic after that:

Wake up• Go running• Shower• Get dressed• Eat • Go to the school• Talk to no one• Fight tears• Fight emotions• Fight feelings• Walk home• Eat• Cry myself to sleep knowing I’d only have to do it all over again when I woke•

You know those moments when you’re walking or driving home, and you realize that somehow you made it home but you didn’t think about the road or directions at all. You just put your mind on autopilot and it somehow got you home without dying. You know those moments? That was my life. I would put my mind on autopilot every morning and somehow I returned home that night in one piece, yet more broken than before.

I think it’s easy for people to brush away moments like this. Stories like this are rarely told, feelings like this are rarely revealed, but they’re real. It’s easy to hide your true feelings. It’s a lot harder to openly show your vulnerability. But I think difficult things are often more rewarding. I used to think depression was something only a few people experienced. I don’t believe that anymore. I think we all relate more than we want to admit.