In high school, when adolescence causes all those hormonal mood swings, we’re often told that our depressed feelings are “just a phase.” And, for the most part, this ends up being true (even though we may suffer tremendously).
As an adult, things are different. We are reassured by well-intentioned family and friends that we’ve hit a slump or are burned out by work. We aren’t explicitly told it is a phase; it is more of a cousin to the phrase.
Then, sometimes, something worse happens. Your depressed brain convinces you that the real you — the one that isn’t depressed and isn’t passively suicidal — is the silly phase.
“You feel pretty good right now,” says Depressed Brain. “But it’s just a silly phase you’re going through.”
Depressed Brain convinces you — me — IT is the real one.
So just grow up and accept it.
This is the love song my depressed brain sings to my mind. It tricks me into believing it doesn’t really need or want me (but secretly, we both know better).
And just like the song, it whispers to me, “Be quiet. Big girls don’t cry…”
[I am not this depression. I keep telling myself. Frightened that I may be the one who is singing the love song — to my depressed brain.]