Depressed people don’t shower. Obviously. Said the sad little girl.

Doll clinging to shower controls

In high school we read “The Center Cannot Hold: My Journey Through Madness”. 

It scared me. 

She was so strong though, to weather through all the stuff that was thrown at her. 

Weird takeaway for me: one of the first things to go when a mental illness is sneaking up on you is your personal hygiene. 

I bet you can tell where this is going. 

Bingo. 

When I started worrying about being depressed for the first time I started to force myself to take a shower and shave my legs every day. 

Depressed people don’t take showers everyday therefore I am not depressed. 

Suck on that. 

It was dumb, of course I was depressed. 

Standing in water for 15 minutes a day didn’t really change that. It did allow me to be in denial for a little while longer though. 

Once I started sobbing on the shower floor it became a less effective denial too. 

Ugh so many tears. 

I just didn’t want to feel like there was something wrong with me. 

And if there was I wanted to be able to control it. 

If I was able to control it then I wasn’t actually broken. 

I was never broken, my brain chemicals were just making it hard to be anything but numb and sad. 

If only I knew then what I know now. 

Actually. 

I totally did know it then, I know exactly what I would have said to someone else who was in my position. 

It’s not your fault. 

You can’t will this away. 

Please get help, I’ll walk with you there. 

I’ll sit with you. 

Please

That of course only applied to other people. 

It wouldn’t be weak for them to seek help for something like that. 

Me however? I should just power through because I wasn’t actually depressed, 

I was just lazy

Dumb

Sad

Or. 

I was suffering from depression and my brain was telling me awful lies. 

Because that is what depression does, it tells big, evil, believable lies. 

Ugh. 

I prefer mania.

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