The Doubt Monster

There's an interesting contradiction that happens when you're suffering from depression: Either you spend all your energy hiding it and pushing yourself, and people will say "you don't look/act depressed!" as in, they don't believe you. Or you let go and look/act depressed, and people will say "that's an excuse to be lazy". As in, they don't believe you. People have a strong disposition for disbelieving mental illness. If you don't see it, it doesn't exist - or if you do see it, it must be something else. If you tend to think this way, I suggest having a look inside to discover why you can't accept the reality of depression.

We love the idea of the "mini me". Not sure what that says about us. Are we just vain, or is it a desire from a primal level? That's for another post. Either way, we - just like all living things - are made to reproduce. We're so good at it that as of May 2019 we number 7.7 billion worldwide. That's insane, y'all. Though I think the devastation we bring to our planet is more than just overpopulation (it's mainly being inconsiderate to our home), overpopulation is a problem. The issue is less about the amount of people as it is about our use of resources. " Human overpopulation  (or  population overshoot ) occurs when the  ecological footprint  of a human population in a specific geographical location exceeds the  carrying capacity  of the place occupied by that group.  Overpopulation  can further be viewed, in a long term perspective, as existing if a population cannot be maintained given the rapid depletion of  non-renewable resour...

I remember thinking that I would never be fat and I was relieved I would never know what that felt like. I remember thinking how uncomfortable it must be, being fat. I remember thinking how I would never let myself get to that point, where I felt like there was too much weight on me - where I could feel it every time I moved. Ironically, at the same time, I thought I wasn't thin enough. I thought I was fat - just not that kind of fat. I thought I would never be fat because my mom raised me on a healthy diet and with a healthy lifestyle. We ate really, really well. As the years passed, my mom would learn more about nutrition, and that would influence our meals and our activities. I was never a child who liked exercise or team sports but I wouldn't say I wasn't an active child either. Through the warm months I was always in the neighborhood parks goofing around, or biking in endless circles around the nearby schools. Running, biking, swimming, exploring - those were ...

SPOILER WARNING FOR GAME OF THRONES SEASONS 1-8 Okay - I'm pissed off which means it's the perfect time to write. It has to do with "Game of Thrones" and women, two things I'm passionate about. I came across an article by Variety titled: "Jessica Chastain, Ava DuVernay Call Out 'Game of Thrones' for Treatment of Women". At first I laughed, for multiple reasons. One, I assumed they were talking about the various rapes and trials the female characters of Westeros/Essos had to endure, and I wondered if they realized that A) it's a show not real life, and B) how do they think actual medieval women fared? Two, I thought about all the strong, powerful, relatable, compassionate, fiery females the show/book series has given us. From Daenerys (you know, the one with the dragons who can walk out of a bonfire unharmed, who freed millions of slaves and acquired armies and followers in the thousands) to Cersei (a woman who felt underrated and s...

Part One of this story is "Depression Doesn't Discriminate" and Part Two is "The Summer From Hell". I encourage you to read those first for context. By no means do I want to discourage people from seeking help from health professionals. My aim is not to slander those who work in medicine or therapy. There are thousands of wonderful doctors, nurses, psychiatrists, and therapists in the world. This post is merely to recount my experience with my personal doctors and therapists, during a challenging time in my life. As I've said, my doctor was not terribly helpful in the event of my mental breakdown. His expertise lay only in the physical, and so anything brought to him that was mental or emotional was met with a lack of professionalism. My mom and I had to fight to get me anti-depressants, which no one suffering a meltdown should have to experience. I had no energy to fight for anything. I needed HIM to advocate for me and help me, but I had to prove I ...

This is a continuation of my "meltdown" story; please read "Depression Doesn't Discriminate" first for context. I call it a meltdown or breakdown because that's exactly what it felt like. Everything came crashing down for no apparent reason. I remember that summer being full of friends' weddings, and how I couldn't attend any of them because I was a wreck. Literally, I sat on the couch with a wool blanket draped over me, the cats cuddling me, shaky and weak and pale. My heart was constantly pounding and my stomach was in knots. Whenever the anxiety would subside, I'd take notice and it would surge again. I got used to watching my family walk out the door to experience things without me. That summer we had a vacation planned to attend a family wedding, followed thereafter by a visit to friends and family in the United States. It was going to be a day-long drive, with an intermission during which the wedding would take place. I had newly ...

I woke up from a dream an hour ago and I'm still in the midst of processing it. My dreams have always been vivid, colourful, detailed, and intense. Sometimes they appear to have profound meaning, while other times they're merely ridiculous. In my dream I shared an opinion on social media. I've been trying to remember what the opinion was about, but it's escaping me. I know it was something controversial. The part of the dream that filled me with a feeling I've been trying to shake since I woke up, was how my friends reacted to my opinion. I received dozens of direct messages linking me to my post, warning me to "watch yourself", "be careful", "you might want to take this word out", "you might not want to include this hashtag", as well as blatantly disagreeing with me in an unkind way. The interesting thing I noticed was that each friend who was offended or worried by my post were the friends I value the opinion of th...

Therapy. Feel the stigma that comes with that word. I was in therapy, multiple times. My first experience with therapy was so bad (and brain-washing) that I needed therapy to erase that therapy. I was 16 when everything fell apart. Everything had been crumbling for years before that but I'd been ignoring it, hence the dramatic collapse when everything came to a head. I never thought I had cause to be broken. My life had always been good. I often felt embarrassed by how good I had it compared to the people I knew. Not financially perhaps, but in regards to my family I thought I had won the lottery. In regards to my parents and brother, I have. It doesn't escape me how fortunate that makes me. I try not to take that for granted even though I know I do, because it's all I've ever known. Again, how lucky am I? I didn't recognize the old wounds I carried though, the not-so-obvious ones. I didn't recognize the darkness in my extended family. I didn't rea...

The Good Book tells us to love others the way we love ourselves. I need to learn the opposite. I need to love myself the way I love others. My love for others is unconditional, judgement-free, and loyal. It doesn't keep a record of the times they've hurt me. It doesn't pressure them. It has no agenda. It doesn't have to be earned - it's free of charge. So why, then, do I not love myself in the same way? My love for myself is conditional. It's given or taken away based on how I feel that day, or in that moment. I judge every aspect of myself daily. I'm harsh to myself; I pressure myself. When I disappoint myself, I subtract any love I had for myself. I have a very, very long list in my head of all the times I hurt someone, or disappointed myself, or failed. I look in the mirror and I point out my flaws. I pinch and poke at myself, punishing myself for how I look. I say things to myself that I would never say to anyone else. I say sorry even when I d...