The Lying Disease

Hello there.

Sorry for the hiatus. It’s been a bit of a time.

I want to talk about this depressionanxietyadhd thing -- specifically, something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Although I’ve mentioned it before.

This disease? It lies.

“You are worthless.” it says.

“I know.” I say.

“No one has ever loved you. No one ever will. You know that, right?” It says.

“Yes.”

“You take up too much space. Every inch of you is just too much. Hunch over, slump those shoulders. You’re too tall. Be smaller. Be smaller. Avoid eye contact. Oh yes, ignore that phone call. Pretend it never happened. Hyperventilate about that voicemail. Good girl.” It says.

“Okay.” I say.  

“You have wasted thousands of dollars trying to get rid of me. But I’m your shadow. You can’t get rid of your shadow. A shadow can only exist by the existence of something physical. And that’s you, baby. That’s you. I’ll always match you, step for step. And you will always be looking over your shoulder for me. I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

“I want you to go away.”

“You know exactly how to do that.”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

“I’m so, so tired. Why doesn’t the medicine work? Why don’t I ever feel better? Am I ever going to feel better?” I say.

“Darling, would you even believe it if you did feel better?” 

And I know. I know these things aren’t true. There is a very, very small but clear voice in my heart that somehow manages to hold me together, no matter what. I am thankful for that voice. Some days that voice is all I have when the chemicals in my brain echo in my head: you’re worthless, you’re nothing, you are a burden.

I have proof that these things aren’t true. I have friends, family, a certain someone who never fails to make me laugh -- even through tears. These are people who, on good days, I know love me. But on bad days … well. It’s a lot harder when this shadowthing is determined to deafen me to a kind word, a gentle touch, a friendly smile. This shadowthing darkens these affectionate gestures with paranoia and terror and desperate sorrow.

I try to ignore the shadow. How I try.

Often, my genuine self-confidence and optimism and certainty bubbles to the surface and I have whole days and weeks where I think I’m okay. Maybe even better than okay! That I am doing a good job, making a difference, that I am kind and empathetic and worth the time of day.

It is for those days that I push and I push and I push through the bad days . It’s just, you know, sometimes it is hard to push through a shadow.

I’ve been a little less plucky in the face of the tough for the past while.

But I’ll be okay. I will get through it. I always do.