These past two weeks have been tough. My depression has been hitting me hard. I’m in the process of getting my medicine modified.. again. The up-hill battle of finding the right medicine for depression is so hard. There is no cure-all pill. When you do find the right one, even then you have to push yourself into a self-care routine.
I’m slowly crawling my way out of the pit.
The one thing a person needs during this time is support. Which ironically, is the hardest thing to get when you deal with mental illness.
Let’s be clear: I have had one person in my life that has helped me with my depression. One.
That’s not an exaggeration. My parents took me once to get treated for depression. I was in the 8th grade, and I couldn’t even be 100% honest about how I was feeling. I felt too ashamed to say I was having suicidal thoughts. That’s all the support I had growing up.
With school, in general, I had a tough time making friends. I was an outgoing child, but my family moved during a crucial time of social development, then moved back during my junior year of high school.
I have one friend from highschool I still talk to and another that is significant other now.
I had friends who I called family. But, in the end, I was the only one who was loyal.
I don’t mean nonsense like they found another best friend or some melodramatic bullshit. I mean, I was there for them during their crisis, but they weren’t there for me. My depression was gross to people. I couldn’t be open about my paranoia or my mood swings. I had to make excuses for behavior sometimes. Like I was cheerful because ‘I was tired’.
I think my bad luck was due to my trusting nature. However, I’m not a saint.
I have done some stupid and damning things, but in these scenarios, I gave my all in these relationships. Because I so wanted a friend on my level. I wanted a friend to say ‘It’s okay, I’m here for you. Talk to me’.
I understand it’s hard for people to openly care. When I say ‘openly care’ I mean, we don’t want to hop over an emotional wall because of social awkwardness or lack of empathy.
And part of me wanted to fix people: I had a friend who was popping pills, had an eating disorder, and suffered from depression. I was always there for her, no matter what. But I never got the same treatment. She was an asshole, plain and simple. She, obviously, had problems. But when my problems came up, she ignored me. She steered the conversation towards herself. She was a master manipulator, and it made me so anrgy that she treated people this way.
This is only one example of my failed friendships.
I have a few friends in Minneapolis. They seem to have their shit together. Which is a nice change of pace. As for people back in Kentucky? There are a few I still talk to. There are a couple who would do anything for me, and I keep in touch.
But my only best friend is my significant other: Dillon. He is the only one I can rely on. He knows all my dark corners, and accepts me. And I try to support him back.
I try to tell myself I don’t need quantity over quality. It hurts that I have been fucked over so much.
Let me be clear: I’m not trying to play the victim. I have done some things that have caused rights and problems in friendships.
But at this point, there is not much I can do. I have apologized my shitty behavior. But regardless, I have cut the toxic relationships. Sometimes you just have to forgive and move on.
Hopefully, I can open up to another person again in my lifetime.
I guess we will see.