I struggle with depression. Underneath these curly blond hair and this big wide smile, there are some pretty dark and troublesome visions.
If you don’t know it, it’s not that I’m trying to hide it from anyone. It’s simply not something you can casually share next to the coffee machine. If it does come out, it will probably be in some sort of whining you might confuse with the usual grumble about daily life of those who live in the corporate world. Therefore you only get to see the itsy bitsy tip of the iceberg.
You have no idea what it feels like to wake up in the morning wanting to throw up, to ask yourself if it is justified to call in sick when your biggest health issue is a creation of your mind. You don’t know how it feels to not be that excited about the week-end, because really there is no rest with that monster in your head. You can’t imagine how dark the thoughts can become when I feel alone at night, wishing there was a way out of suffering. Or maybe you do, and I don’t know, because neither of us talk about it.