ruthlessbri

I cry everytime I come home. From my travels. Not like throwing a tantrum because the fun is over, and not from happiness from the time well spent. I cry as if I mourn. Because when I come home it genuinely feels like someone, a part of my heart, has died. Me.

People always ask me what I want to be in life. And I run through all of the possibilities in my mind, on paper, and even in life. There is no trade that I want to spend the rest of my life doing. There’s no part of me that wants to contribute to this society, because I hate the machine our society has become. When I think of happiness, I think of a wagon. Something I can throw all of my stuff in and then take off.

Why would I want to be a part of something that condemns my way of life? I am not a robot, and I’m not a consumer. I am dying. My soul is suffocating.

When you’re dazing off into another universe, something happens to your eyes. They dilate or open up to something/somewhere your conscious mind can’t even fathom. When we daydream, we’re still functioning on autopilot. We keep working, stop at all of the stop signs, nod at all the right points in conversation... but we’re not actually there. We’re somewhere far off or in a parallel universe, often more pleasant than what we’re used to. After all, it’s a dream, not a nightmare. But then something happens and we suddenly realize we’re not paying attention. And then abruptly we’re snapped out of it and our brains turn the lenses of our eyes, and everything comes into focus. And every part of us rejoins our physical presence. The screen of the bubble we’ve been dreaming in  just pops right before our eyes. We’re no longer floating along, no longer looking at the world with softer edges and bright translucent colors. Our momentary sanctuary and escape, escapes us. 

Lately though, before the abrupt awakening, I’ve noticed that I’m day dreaming while remaining still in the dream. Sometimes putting my physical self at risk of harm by doing so. Sometimes while day dreaming, without realizing it,  my feet have lead me into an area I shouldn’t be walking alone, and even behind the wheel I’m not aware of everything happening around me. And rather than snap myself out of it and focus my eyes, I stay in the dream as long as possible.

Unfortunately, once you know you’re dreaming, it may not always come as a pop, but there’s only so much you can do before the instincts of your intellect fade the dream away and slowly your eyes come into focus anyways. It’s a rather sobering feeling. Now it may be obvious why I would want to stay in a day dream, but I’ll say it anyways. I’ll say it because it often goes unsaid for those who battle depression, and thus unrecognized and unacknowledged. So here is the truth on the outside of the day dreaming bubble. I put myself in that euphoric state (and sometimes in danger) because lately, I’ve noticed, the dream is so much better than the day. And I’d like to stay out of focus just a little bit longer.

And frankly, it’s sad. The state of the world for so many of us is that dismal that we would rather spend our time creating a different world within our dreams rather than living the life every human is blessed to have. Every living being has the right to breathe and live happily, but the social constructs set by an elite few have determined our livelihood. And it is no dream. And they wonder why we crave escape. Because we don’t fit in their world. 

If only they could see the worlds we dream up. If only I could bring the dream to the world.

Everybody has a type. A person that has physical and characteristic traits that you are supremely attracted to. We make lists of the things we need to be in a passionate and yet copacetic relationship. He has to be smart, funny, goal-oriented, family-man…etc.  The things we need in a person to make it work in the long run. And then there are the people we date, who are completely off the grid. We date them, well because they're good people and they have good qualities. 

Personally, I call these men in my life 'sunshine'. It started in high school for me. I was seeing a tall boy with golden locks. Came from a successful family with money, he got good grades and played sports. He was the ideal golden boy, and so I called him Sunshine. We were big into nicknames back then. Sunshine was good to me. He was nice and playful, had a great sense of humor and goals in life. Great on paper. And this isn't the case of wanting a bad boy. No, I don't go after bad boys. The problem with Sunshine was actually the real reason that I ended up calling him Sunshine. Sunshine had never really weathered a storm. At that point in his life, he had never lost anyone he cared for. He had never screwed up so bad that his parents couldn't get him out of trouble. He didn't know the pain of watching his family struggle. Nor had he ever experienced the ecstasy of betrayal. Sunshine didn't know darkness. And that's not bad! I would never wish it upon anyone. But at that point in my life, I had run into darkness. I had survived a storm or two. And once you've been through a storm, it's not easy to be with someone who has never weathered one. It's damn near impossible for me to be with them for real, at all. 

One of the most common responses to my depression that I absolutely loathe is: “You shouldn’t be so depressed; there are people who are worse off than you.” As if my being upset is spitting in the face of all the impoverished hungry cancer-addled orphans of the world. Yes, there are people who have problems of which I would be truly terrified to face, but that doesn’t diminish the circumstances I have gone through and the experiences I have endured, nor the anger and sadness running through my heart and soul. It doesn't make what I’m feeling any less than exactly what I’m feeling. 

And for a quick tip in dealing with someone who has depression; don't tell them they have nothing to cry about and give examples of the poor fortunes of others. Guilt does not need to be added to the weight in which the depressed carry. When I’m hurting, it doesn't help to make me feel bad for feeling bad. I understand that that example is supposed to be a way of making my problems look smaller, in a new perspective. But another thing about depression that’s so misunderstood is that sometimes it’s not the problems in my life that’s causing my depression. It’s my depression that’s causing the problems in my life. And so shrugging off my problems as being “not that bad” doesn’t fix anything. If anything it only makes it hurt more. Because at the root of those “insignificant” problems is the biggest problem of all, and we have no idea how to fix it.

I battle depression. I admit it. And it’s crippling. But you can't tell anyone that when they ask “what’s wrong?”. Depression. That’s not a good enough excuse for the tears. So I have to just resort to “I’m not feeling well,” or “I’m just tired,” which technically aren’t lies, but definitely not the root of what’s wrong. Because depression is so misunderstood that people think you can just “get over it”. Because depression is not serious. It’s just a cry for attention. It’s just being overly sensitive. It’s just throwing a pity party. It’s just not serious . Not until it ends in suicide. Not until it’s too late.

And then, on the other side of the spectrum, you can't show any sign or tell anyone that you’re upset because depression is misunderstood there too; that they’ll put you on suicide watch. Chaperoned everywhere, walking on eggshells around you, hiding all the sharp objects... And the guilt of them worrying as well as the new limitations set, it’s like an elephant sitting on your chest.

There’s two sides to the depression spectrum and nowhere in between. Just two sides and no room to breathe.