My Depression

It is not widely known in my group of friends that still after a year and four months of suffering without my brother I am still depressed. However a select few are still there for me every time I want a shoulder to cry on. There are two camps with polarizing opinions. I have my tough love camp who tells me to get through it and over it, to stop complaining, to focus on the good in my life and to stop wallowing. They are the people I call when I need to get something done and cannot get my butt off the couch so I call them for their anti pep talk because it riles me up so much that they can be so heartless that the adrenaline kicks in usually enough for me to slide off the couch and into a puddle on the floor. At least I tried to move! These friends are my saviours when I know I need to move but cant on my own.

Then there are those very concerned people who give me a softer kind of love, who I feel really understand the situation, who have also had something HORRIBLE happen to them and therefore as one friend put it are in the super sucky “yea I also had a family member die a horrible death and there was nothing I could do about it” club.

Then there is the group that fits in neither of these categories, who I love but don’t talk about major issues with, who I can be around and try to pretend I am normal and I am not just a ticking time bomb, who when I am with them sometimes something inevitably slips out and we look at each other like I had just said I had a STD. I really try to keep my inside inside but sometimes the inside seeps out and I have to run home and tuck myself into bed until the wounds heal.