As not correctly stated in my passport (thanks again, Mum & Dad, for forgetting the day I was born, despite the fact that I share it with my brother. But kudos to you for remembering his), my birthday is coming up soon and this is around the time my depression hits back with vengeance.
Most people are happy when their day arrives. Why shouldn’t they? It’s a day all about you. People wishing you a great time and even your enemies make sure to avoid you as to not ruin your day and pass an awkward nod if you do come across each other.
But for me, this is the time where my dark cloud turns into a vicious monster and tells me things that I don’t normally hear from people. Now, if the people that care about me never say this, why do I believe still its words? Why should I believe this cloud when it tells me I don’t deserve to have the life I have? That nobody actually gives a shit and they’re all just pretending? Simply because it makes it all the more easier to believe when a few small bad things happen all at once. Even when it’s not your fault. Sometimes when I send a message to a friend and they don’t get back to me within the first 20 minutes, this is what my mind feeds me:
That’s it. You’ve done it now. They got sick of you. They don’t want to talk to you. You’re just inconveniencing them.
But then they reply. And all those thoughts are pushed away again, locked away safely at the back of your mind, ready to come out at your next social interaction.
This is what it’s like living with depression and anxiety. (You’re not sure which triggers the other).
My last birthday, I was practically invisible in my own home. I had gotten into a fight with my parents so we weren’t talking and my brother had sent me a picture of a cake that his Uni flatmates surprised him with. I had no one but the strangers on tumblr to rely on, which kinda helped to be honest.
When I turned 19, it had been the most depressing year of my life. I didn’t feel like I had anything to celebrate. At the time, I had just finished my A-Levels, I didn’t know what my next move was, I was fighting my parents for support of the career I wanted to pursue and just later I was cornered into doing a job I really didn’t want, (but it ended up paying for the degree I started, so there was that).
I only ever recall two birthdays that I enjoyed:
- When I turned 20. It was a Saturday, and although I had to come in to work and deal with a crazy amount of starving customers, my colleagues surprised me with a cake.
- When I turned 13. My parents finally arranged a birthday party. The only one I ever had. And I loved it.
Aside from those, I never did anything special. And that’s mostly due to the reality of a hectic life. Everyone is always too busy to spend time with you.
Okay, I want to set the record straight and say no, I don’t blame my friends in any way. But it still feeds my cloud, and every year I feel it getting bigger.
I know what you’re thinking, I should seek help. Talk to someone.
But you need to understand it’s not always easy to do that. Remember one of the distorted thoughts I mentioned earlier? “You’re just inconveniencing them.” The first thing to do is to overcome that. It’s challenging, but it’s a task I’m willing to overcome sometime.
Sahar is in progress.