I got a semicolon tattoo today. Not because it’s trendy or even because I’m a strong supporter of ProjectSemicolon, but because I needed a visual reminder. I suppose that’s the whole point, though.
I didn’t really want to go alone, but it soon became apparent everyone in my life was busy, so alone it was. It’s sort of better I went by myself really; I deal with my mental illness alone and there’s never been anyone by my side through any of that. I was super excited to get a new tattoo and when it was done, I rewrapped the bandage and sat in my car watching the rain while I had a smoke. It was then I knew that while I love the symbolism and it will definitely be a teddy bear defeating monsters while I sleep, the sadness is still here and will never go away.
I don’t often talk about my mental illness in detail other than saying I have depression. Mostly because whomever I’m speaking to will bring up a time they too, were sad for a while. That’s what always bothers me the most. We relate to others by shared experience and it’s supposed to help create a bond between us and them, but I don’t think mental illness is something anyone can really bond over. It’s a rather personal journey that only the person bearing the load will ever really understand. Whenever someone tries to talk to me about being sad, it’s always “I know how you feel! My life is so stressful right now and I’m having a hard time dealing with it.” Or, my personal favorite, “Have you tried talking to anyone about it? There’s medication and therapy out there, you know?” Forgive me, but when I hear any of those words, I immediately want to punch whatever mouth they just exited. What anyone who says those things doesn’t realize is that real depression, the kind that sits on your chest and makes just getting out of bed the hardest thing in the world, isn’t something that comes and goes. Even on beautiful sunny days full of people laughing and having a great time, it’s still gnawing on your resolve and making it that much harder to appreciate those around you.
Not to say that my life is any harder than anyone else’s; quite the contrary. Sure, I have stress and obligations but it could be worse and I know many others who do have it worse. Knowing this is probably the number one reason I don’t talk about my feelings and I don’t often tell anyone how many times a day or how many different ways I think of taking my own life. One, I don’t want to see the uncomfortable concern on their faces, and two, I don’t want to hear about how hard their life is. Don’t get me wrong; I care about those I care about, and will be there if they need me, but they don’t realize how exhausting other people can be sometimes. I actually love meeting new people and getting to know them and learning about their lives. I never mind listening to someone who just needs to talk and seeing them smile through their tears when they feel better; those are great moments in life. Yet, most people who fight what I fight seem to always have the hardest time connecting with anyone on that level.
There are a lot of things stopping us from just walking up to someone and striking up a conversation. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, I often feel like the sorrow is written all over my face and thinking I’m bringing someone down always makes me feel worse. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I don’t ask for anyone else to shoulder my burden because, well, no one else can. Also, everyone says how much they like to surround themselves with positive people and while I can do a really good job of faking it; I will never be one of those people. Not because I don’t want to be, but because there’s a sorrow so deeply rooted inside it’s actually become a part of me. Not the best part, or my favorite part, but a part nonetheless. I don’t think that necessarily makes me a “downer”, but it’s certainly an obstacle. Oddly enough, I feel better in the knowledge that I’m not alone. Mental health is grossly overlooked in our society and traditional forms of treatment aren’t beneficial for everyone. Ironically enough, I feel better knowing I’m not the only one battling soul crushing misery every single day of my life. I feel like that’s a terrible way to see things, but sometimes you have to appreciate the macabre to get past it.
So this is a small part of my story and my semicolon tattoo; make of it what you will. Just know that if you have someone in your life like me, don’t expect them to talk about their struggle because they won’t ask you to listen. More than likely they will never tell you when they’re holding the blade to their skin; they’ll just ask if you want to hang out. If you have someone like that in your life, the best thing you can do is just spend time with them because they wouldn’t be reaching out to you if they didn’t think you could help them get through the next five minutes.
misadventuresinreality 