It took me a long time to view depression as a disease. I blamed myself for not being positive enough or able to "get it together." This view was shared by a lot of my friends, who seemed truly baffled when I would cancel plans, swearing that I simply could not get dressed and out of the apartment. And, for me, there was lot of shame in coming clean to people that I was not feeling 100%. I didn't know how to convey what I was experiencing. I still think it is almost impossible to make someone understand who has never been truly, uncontrollably depressed.
I remember one Friday night, I had promised to meet up with several friends at a party. I had that feeling in my chest where it seems your lungs are being flattened by an anvil, and each breath is like inhaling acid. The thought of facing a noisy bar and acting chipper and upbeat--let alone the battle to put on something appropriate to wear and lipstick--left me completely debilitated. I. Could. Not. Do. It. I called to tell my friend, and she was angry with me. Even though there would be other people there, even though I wasn't leaving her abandoned on a Friday night with no plans, she was offended that I was cancelling last minute. I started to cry. I sobbed on the phone, "Do you think I want to feel this way? Don't you think I want to be out having fun on a Friday night?" She proceeded to give me a lecture about how I was wallowing in self-pity and that I could choose at any time to just decide to stop feeling sorry for myself. I admit that I sort of shared her view, which made me lack empathy for myself and made it even more difficult to feel better.
Now, I am convinced that depression is absolutely a disease--a disability that people can't see but that is just as serious as a physical malady. If you have it, go easy on yourself. You wouldn't tell a person with a broken leg to suck it up and run a marathon, right? What you are experiencing is real, and you can get through it. Don't make it harder by berating yourself for being sick!
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