Darkness - My Acquaintance

Ok, so let me finally breach this painful and difficult subject. I don’t really know how to go about it but here we go…

I didn’t always know that it was there, I used to think that I was meant to feel the way I felt. That “this was life” take it or leave it. It didn’t matter that I saw other people of other dispositions or another outlook on life, I for some reason, couldn’t see that my way was probably not alright.

It didn’t either matter that many people around me tried to tell me that “No you are not supposed to be accompanied by this darkness, you are young, this is the best time of your life – you are supposed to be happy!”

I don’t know what I thought on the many occasions I was told this, I do remember thinking that most of these people were idiots and I never wanted to see them again.

One was a very sweet doctor I used to see once a year to get “the pill” who every time for six years patiently listened and then booked a time with someone to “talk to”. I never showed up to those meetings - once I did get as far as the waiting room but when they called my name I didn’t respond and soon afterwards I left.
Another was a teacher at university, who gave me a business card and said “I am worried about you, call this person, she is expecting your call” The card was for a psychiatrist. I threw it away and never went back to class.

It is strange, the people who told me “to talk to someone” were always people who were not close to me. With my family and friends I hid the darkness or disguised it, I think or rather I hope…

My mother, sweet but self centred as she is, even if she would have seen my need she would NEVER have advised me “to talk to someone”, the prospect of her child being “insane” would be too much. Although just talking to someone doesn’t mean one is ”insane”. But if I did “talk to someone” I would automatically be qualified “mentally instable” in the books and records of the state. Big brother sees us and it would always be on my shoulders, I would never get a job or a man and probably no one would ever love me, I would never be rich and consequently of course never be happy…
(that’s her view)

And still when I speak to most friends about my depression, they will laugh a little and hit me on the shoulder and say “Oh you are exaggerating, ok, you might have been down but you’ve never been really bad, like suicidal…”

Even if I say “Yes I was or have been or am” they will still laugh it away.

And I don’t blame them. I don’t like to talk about it, I hide it and I do joke about it – a lot. I mean would you take a person seriously if when you met them and asked how they were they would answer with a shrug and a laugh “Oh, today I am just a little under the weather but yesterday I was nearly under a train”?