To me, being depressed isn’t just being sad.
It’s feeling like a 30 pound weight is on your chest and you can’t get it off. It’s feeling like you’re in a pitch black room, but you can’t find the light switch. It’s feeling like you’re drowning.
It’s feeling like you can’t breathe. It’s feeling irritated even when someone you’re close with is dealing with the same emotions. It’s feeling betrayed when someone doesn’t pay attention to you, but getting annoyed when they do because you’re having conflicting feelings.
It’s feeling sick to your stomach and feeling your heart in your throat. It’s feeling like you’re going to cry any moment, even at the smallest things.
It’s feeling unmotivated. It’s feeling like you can’t concentrate anymore. It’s feeling like you physically cannot get yourself out of bed in the morning. It’s feeling a pit in your stomach all the time. It’s feeling like you’re alone even when you’re surrounded by people.
It’s feeling worthless. It’s feeling disgusting. It’s feeling completely drained.
It’s feeling like you don’t belong here.
Despite feeling these things, I also have to look at who I have in my life and how much of a support system I do have. It’s thinking about what is keeping me alive. It can be small things or big things. I keep a running list of things that make me happy, similar to the book 14,000 Things to Be Happy About and returning to it to read them makes me realize how much I’m living for. I’ve been struggling for 5 years now, and it comes and goes, but I know that it’s just a bad day (or week, or month for some), not a bad life. Hope exists.