Disclaimer: the following post pertains to depression. Depression is a highly personal thing, and I in no way am speaking for all people who have dealt with it. This is merely my own experience. I do not claim to sum up its entire essence, only the parts I'm familiar with. Continue, considering yourself warned.
The summer of 2012 was hell for me. Some of you know this, some of you don't. I largely spent the summer in my bedroom-- lights off, shades drawn, covers pulled over my aching self. I did occasionally leave my cave, never becoming a total recluse. When I left, I faked my happiness, and I faked it well. I put on a persona of sunny cheer and pretended to be elated. My bubbly exterior was polar opposite to the roiling sadness I felt inside. On the exterior, I was a thriving, flittering 16 year old, glowing with the iconic promise of high school. On the interior, I was angry, self-loathing, and at times, suicidal. For a long time I told myself that I had a sickness like mono, or strep, or the flu. Yes, a sickness with a timetable, and with static symptoms, and with a definite cure. Yes, a sickness like this was what was causing me to feel so hopelessly low. Soon the sickness would go away and I'd go back to myself.
It took about a month for me to accept that I didn't have mono. Or strep. Or the flu. I was depressed. And unlike those three maladies that provided quick, easy fixes, this was a bout so elusive, so complex, and so daunting, that it wasn't anything an antibiotic could solve. I slept a lot that summer. It was easier to sleep through my problems than to deal with them. If I was asleep, I didn't have to confront the issues that were causing my depression. If I was asleep, I could pretend I was happy. If I was asleep, I could pretend I was still myself. And therein, was the problem. I thought I was only myself if I was happy.
I felt that I was only myself, only Samantha, when I was well and thriving and feeling good. This concept stemmed from the fact that for pretty much my entire life, I had been these things. My childhood was a cushy one-- my only tribulations being fighting with Eliza over who got to have the Beyond Pink Barbie, or fighting with my mother about letting me stay up until 11:00 to finish watching Cadet Kelly. Thus, I associated myself as being happy. I was the little sister-- constantly exuding energy, and bubbly cheer. I was my parents' baby, and I was determined to always be happy, in order to make them happy. I saw how hard it was for them when my siblings were upset, and I wanted to be the easy child that never caused that. Oh how naive I was. So, when for the first time in my life, I started to feel unhappiness, I panicked. The unhappiness was based upon high school drama-- friends, a boy, uncertainty about my future. Things that now, after experiencing much greater trials, seem like ant hills. However, at the time, they seemed like mountains. Compared to my sugary adolescence, these things were intensely difficult, and they brought me vast unhappiness. The situation only worsened, when I became alienated from my malcontent. Having categorized myself as eternally happy, I was disoriented by this new darkness. I quickly spiraled downward, becoming more and more angry, disappointed, and frustrated with my feelings. I felt like a failure for feeling sad, and I felt so unlike myself.
Fast-forward two and half years, countless doses of anti-depressants, dozens of therapy appointments, and a lot of loving care from beautiful people, and things have changed vastly. Over time, I learned an important lesson-- I am me, regardless of any other factor. I am me when I am happy. I am me when I am sad. I am me when I am experiencing any of the many emotions humans are capable of feeling. Our spectrum of emotion is wide-- and I find that impossibly beautiful. I learned that although situations, relationships, and surroundings change, one thing stays the same-- I am me. Although my likes, my dislikes, my talents, and my weaknesses may change over time-- I will always be me. It's an interesting dichotomy-- being something that stays the same yet changes. In a feeble attempt to define it, I'd say that we're people who stay the same because we're always changing. There's that cheesy quote that floats around the web-- "the only thing you can count on is change." It's got some worth to it though, doesn't it? Life constantly ebbs and flows around us, but we can always count on having ourselves. Fluctuating with a myriad of factors, I change from day to day. However, I am always myself. It's a beautifully difficult thing to try and verbalize-- but it's something that I feel strongly within myself. And something that I think everyone feels at some point in their existence, and in some way. It's a powerful thing, when you realize that sadness is just as beautiful as happiness, because we learn from both. I'm in no way romanticizing depression, and saying that it's hip to dwell on being melancholy. What I am saying, is that life naturally takes its course, and although we hope for it to be happy all the time, we shouldn't fear the sad times. For in them, we learn things that happiness cannot ever teach us. Life is a gorgeously dynamic mix of negatives and positives, and I think that when we're able to embrace the entire spectrum, we're able to reach our maximum potential as humans. Certainly easier said than done, I'll give you that. But certainly worth striving toward.
