Someone I know recently graduated. One friend just completed a second degree. On the other side of the world a couple just got married, a good friend got a promotion and I’m truly happy for them. Am I?
Others are making music; I’ve always wanted to delve into the deep bowels of this artistry! I still will one day; even depression won’t stop that. I think I’ve used this blog to pour out a lot of what I’ve wished to become. Dreams and aspirations intertwined with failures and incomplete ventures have left me feeling rather uneasy. I write to make the pain feel better. And whoever said pain goes away is a liar.
This is just a minor prologue though. The last two paragraphs is where my mind sometimes takes me when I gobble through social media timelines and statuses. However, the real anchor of ‘this’ depression is failure.
My own failure has definitely taken a chunk of my usually reserved and talkative personality. Now I’m mostly a reserved dick. 🤣 I laugh at this because honestly, it helps to laugh especially with how conversations with myself have become so stubbornly heated of late. Passive aggressive much? I don’t know but, I feel like living and trying to make ‘it‘ work in Zimbabwe is an extreme sport. My feigning compliance with the current political status-quo has made me somewhat jumpy…
Seeing the turmoil in my backyard gives me a certain feeling, seeing people struggle to buy a loaf of bread really makes me question how I’m even able to show my heavy frame around in public. You can’t be fat in Zimbabwe in 2019. 😅 It sounds like a bad joke but, psychologically it hurts a little for me.
I write because I feel like I’m able to talk to someone. Being black and from an extremely cultured family usually means I can’t talk to anyone about such things like depression. But, here it’s open season and the feeling is great to watch my fingers click these keyboard-letters away; it soothes my somewhat aching heart and destructive overthinking! If you ever see me talking to myself then indulge me; I might be battling with invisible demons.
I’m not looking for pity. I’m looking for listeners who see and readers who can hear… I’m looking for people to relate and share with. Sometimes a stranger is the best person to take an anonymous journey with.
And for those who find it fit to want to quantify and qualify depression; the smallest things can knock you off your wheels. From a small mole on your face, that hump on your back, that failed test, that degree you couldn’t complete, peer-pressure to jealousy, losing a loved one, being hurt by a loved one and the killer; when love hurts!
Depression is like a virus, it slowly spreads and eats at your positive energy; gnawing away at your happiness ever so diligently. I can’t begin to calculate the amount of times I’ve been sidelined at an attempt on winning life by overthinking.
Load-shedding hasn’t been kind as well because in the presence of darkness and chanting generators comes the agent of thought! There you are in the warm comfort of your bed while trying to make a beat out of your neighbors electricity-making fuel jugglers. But, the mind is weak and in a few minutes you’re half asleep, and the agent finally has a grin. She or he is cunning, sitting ever so patiently in your mind waiting for you to have that epiphany just to outright blurt out, ‘you’re not fucking good enough’!
That thing in your conscious that makes you doubt your judgement? That’s your agent. We all have one and I’d like to call them agents because their work starts of undercover; looking all discreet and innocent.😒 And yet, any unhappy events can make your agent evolve. So much so that they can cause the mind and body so much harm. This is were multiple personalities are born; I think. I’m glad I don’t have to go into this and hopefully I never won’t have to.
So where do I go from clutching paper-straws and enormous family expectations? At this point I suddenly remember all the peer-pressure from high school. The world is a messy place and even ‘friends‘ can mess with your psyche. So why is it so hard and painful to be strong? How do you grow a thick skin when life and its serrated blade occasionally slices and dices it off? 😱 Is it true that a new layer grows tougher with every slice? How? Doesn’t that take away something from you every time? Even if you learn and adapt, some scars heal but, some leave terrible marks…
It’s like a double-edged sword…
Who do you trust in if you can’t even trust your own judgement? What passion do you follow if life keeps hinting that your passion(s) is(are) wrong? Honestly, I know I can do better, then why not just do it you ask? Where I come from, just is a figment of fantastical construction.
I can just start a business, I can just be a musician, I can just be a YouTuber; unfortunately, not all of us can just just! Then again, that could be my agent talking; not that there hasn’t been a continuous battle in my attempts to just. The just in Africa comes with extreme limitations. In other words, life is fucking hard…🤔
I shout this out at the top of my lungs, DEPRESSION IS REAL! And as outspoken as I’d like to believe I am, I can’t believe I’ve struggled this much with it to only publicly admit it now. It’s like I’m preparing to eat crow. Get yourself some help!
Meditate with positivity, stay away from the nice-sounding-soppy-sad music; that shit is a major trigger but, then again, do you boo-boo. Tell yourself you’re a king/queen because you honestly are. Never let failure, circumstance or whatever convincing reason to let you second-guess or doubt yourself. Your greatness is a bright and blinding abundance so don’t spend a lifetime trying to figure out life; figure the flame that’s in you. Wherever you from, just know that ashes can’t burn fire!
Don’t be alone for so long to let your mind wonder. The darkness is evil…
Photo Credit: Sydney Sims