By Chemene Game
Depression, to me, as everyone is different, is like an overcoat of despair and sadness.
Heavy and impenetrable. Some days it’s as if I am Lucy walking through that infamous wardrobe and putting on all of those heavy, burdensome fur coats. Wanting to escape from one world but being totally lost in another.
Depression is your friend that knocks on your door out of blue; you haven’t heard from them in a while but once they are there, there they’ll stay. Arduously talking at you with disdain and exerting their right for you to need them. A shadow, a cloud, a debt collector that dissipates once you have been darkened, rained on or paid what you owe.
One day, out of the blue and for no apparent reason, this relationship, this dare I say marriage with depression, changes course. You cannot divorce depression, I mean imagine the settlement figure! Imagine the upheaval and it not being there anymore. The bad habit that you’ve gotten used to. Ironically we did use depression as our crutch; ‘I can’t be bothered to go out to Jane’s party – I am depressed.’ No, so we seek guidance, ok marriage guidance, reconciliation with depression.
So we learn to live with depression. Depression becomes Aunt Mable, who, at family gatherings sits in her usual chair, passively listening. She’s ok, she’s there. We acknowledge her but nobody wants to chat to or talk about her.
Depression knows it is always able to rest it’s weary bones on the bottom of our beds. It knows it can hover and stare. It will judge me and I will care. We will have our moments and I hope my friend will call upon me less. If again my mascara runs to where the corners of my mouth meet; I will stand on my two feet. I will say, “No depression, I am going out again, yes….this time it’s with Jane…….