Depression 101

Alright. Take a seat. Pull out the pencils and paper. Pay attention. Remember everything. No pressure.

Since checking in the hospital on suicide watch, I’ve been flooded with love, attention and visitors. I didn’t expect this much love! I had no idea how cared about I really was. My only fear now is once I return to the real world, we’ll forget each other once again and continue on alone. I don’t want to focus on the beautiful people quite yet. You are wonderful and words can’t describe the thankfulness I have for you taking time to bring me flowers, food, listening to me, sitting down and playing cards with me and simply loving me.


There is another group of people who need to be addressed. The grasshoppers. I was going to put a more colorful title but my sleeping pills are starting to kick in and I can’t be creative. First: a definition.

Grasshoppers: uneducated, unaware human beings who think they are being loving but really are selfish assholes talking about themselves who should not be speaking at all but reading a book. They are not to be blamed; just educated. Maybe slapped.

Wow. I am mean. I swear, it’s the meds they’re making me take. I need to stop blogging while in the hospital. But I have internet. God bless America.

Anyway. The first thing I need to teach the grasshoppers is what not to say. Take notes here. Seriously. Before I go mad and jump out this window. I’m just kidding, it’s covered with metal so I can’t get out even if I try. Damn hospital, one step ahead of us suicidal folks. Here we go.

“Get over it.”

You, sir, are an asshole and need to sit down. If I could just get over it, don’t you think I would? I wouldn’t be here in the first place if I could just get over it. Idiot. Stay a grasshopper.

“You’re stronger/better than this.”

No, I’m not. You are sending me down a guilt trip which is a fast track to the hospital – wait I’m there now. It’s people who say these things that put me here. You could have admitted me here yourself.

“Just enjoy your life.”

Really? I had no idea that was an option. Thank you! I will turn the depression off right away and get on that. No. Sit down, you are a grasshopper. And I will step on you.

“This isn’t you.”

I’m sorry, am I wearing a costume? Have I magically transformed into someone else? No. I am me. I have depression. My brain is messed up. This is a part of me.

“You just need a wake up call.”

Gee you’re right. I’m sorry I’m so dumb. I can’t believe I don’t have the ability to move by myself but I need a wake up call. If I needed a “wake up call” do you really think I would check into a hospital and spend thousands of dollars I don’t have to sleep in an uncomfortable bed and eat hospital food for a week? This is one hell of a wake up call. I can’t even poop here without someone hearing me and I’m a nervous pooper. I’m paying to be constipated for a week.

“Snap out of it.”

You sir, have officially snapped me to the deep end. I’m going to end your life. Then my own. Sit down grasshopper. You have been stepped on too.

“I’ve been sad too.”

Honey. Please. I’m sorry you’ve been sad. But I can’t sit here and listen to your sob story. I’m sorry I can’t be empathetic right now. I’m not even here asking for attention, to be honest, I’m sitting here drowning in depression I can’t even speak about because there are no words to describe it; it just is. If you came to visit me simply to dump your story onto my head, leave. Don’t come visit me. Don’t call or text me. I won’t sit here and listen to you cry for hours. Stay home, grasshopper, I will step on you and your story. I am too nice to tell you to shut up in person because my depression won’t let me speak so I’m going to be a jerk over the internet and hide behind my screen like everybody else. Trust me, I don’t want to hear your story. I want to sit and stare into space.  Don’t get me wrong, I would love to sit and talk another time but right now, I’m in no mental shape to do that. Get a counselor, at least they’re paid.

“It’ll go away soon.”

Actually, it’s genetic and my brain chemistry is messed up. It isn’t going to magically heal itself. Yes, I’m on medication and I go to counseling. Sure it helps sometimes, but the depression is still there, it’s always there. It’s a little voice singing in the back of my head in a dark minor chord. It’s completely tone deaf and I can’t hear anything else sometimes. It won’t just walk out the door like an obnoxious party guest, it stays and moves in with you. I’m stuck with it.

“Cheer up.”

Thank you, Dr. Genius. I didn’t know you got your PhD in depression and anxiety research and now are licensed to give advice. Wait, I don’t think I ever asked for it. But you have a PhD so it doesn’t matter, right? Wrong. Nobody asked for your advice. I don’t need you to fix me. Sit down, grasshopper. Let me be upset for a while, it’s the only thing I can feel right now.

“What’s wrong?”

There is probably nothing wrong and I have been asked that 92754985 times today. Nothing is wrong. My depression is in my mind, it comes and goes as it pleases and I have no say. There is no specific stress point so stop digging before I hit you with the shovel, grasshopper which will be flattened by a shovel soon.

Here’s what you CAN and SHOULD say.

“I love you.”

“I’m here for you, however you need it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I will listen to you.”

“Your feelings are valid.”

“You can stay here as long as you need and I will be there when you’re out.”

Look how easy this list is. Also, let me joke about suicide please. If I can’t deal with it with my quirky humor, I will go mad.

Please don’t try to understand me, fix me, give me advice, or spray your happy sprinkler in my face.

I am sorry this post is so mean but I know my fellow suicidal people will appreciate someone being the asshole for all of us. I appreciate your love, intentions and support. I really do. We need to work on methods though and this is how. We need to change the mindset outsiders have and give you goggles to see through our lens for a change. Know that this frustration is coming from a place of love inside me however dark and twisted it may be. I love you and want you in my life and that is why I have to educate you. I will push you away, shove you harder than you’ve ever been shoved, say the most awful words and be the scariest person you’ve ever met if I hear any of those things on the list above. I don’t have lots of close friends and solid relationships because of that list. I push and shove and instead of treating you like a mind reader, I am handing you a manual on how to love people with depression and what not to say. I’m trying to help our relationship because I care in the best way I can.

Again, I apologize for being rude but I do not apologize for offending you. People with mental disorders are stepped on everyday. Our anxiety makes it impossible for us to stand up to you and correct the language being used about us. I know for me, every time I hear anything on that list, I feel like a failure, disappointment, worthless piece of crap and immediately sink deeper into depression and further plan my death. I’ve heard it twice today and both times I thought about how I could end my life in this place that has been cleaned of any methods. Instead of playing poker with friends, I laid in bed planning my death in detail after hearing those things. I could’ve but winning chips you know, but no! I’m here freaking out because our system doesn’t educate people on mental disorders. Talk about a face palm. I can be creative though and I don’t trust myself. Please don’t tempt me. Please don’t tempt any of us. I feel like all of us with mental disorders are brothers and sisters who stick together and we have to learn to say something to defend ourselves. Nobody else is doing it and frankly, I’m tired of being a polite doormat.

To the people who manage to say and love us in the right, comforting way, you are a saint   to us. The people that don’t make us feel judged or like a failure, you are our hero. To those who stay by us even after big melt downs that land us in the hospital on suicide watch, thank you. Consistency is key. If you have and are loving me for more than five minutes, I will remember you. To those who text me simply to be courteous, I appreciate it. I do, but I’ll forget. Consistency is the biggest thing I can ask for. Can you stay longer than five minutes?

I know you’re suffering seeing me here. I know you’re worried that I will kill myself. I know you can’t sleep because you’re afraid for me. I know tears are being shed and prayers are being said for me. I know you toss and turn, deep in fear that one day I will be gone. I know you’re afraid you’re not doing enough for me. I know you’re scared to say or do the wrong thing. I know you’re blaming yourself and wondering what you did wrong.

I’m sorry I can’t be of much comfort to you right now as I struggle to take care of myself. I want to feel more but I can’t. All I can give you now are my words so here they are.

Beloved. Oh dear friend. It is not your fault. There was nothing to be done. My brain took control and crashed and burned this body. You weren’t driving. It’s okay. I don’t hate you. In fact, I love you very much. It is because of you that I am laying in this hospital bed dreading the next cheesy group meeting to talk about “breathing” instead of at the bottom of a building, in a bathtub or hanging, dead.

No matter what you’re feeling, you are a hero and I applaud you. Thank you.


Your depression sensai


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