The real “depression awareness” we should all be talking about

Many times I happened to read about depression awareness in correlation to aiming at making the disorder known, so that it can be easier to accept, understand, and treat.
But the awareness I feel should be discussed more widely is a direct cause of depression; it could well be the genesis of it, actually.
Imagine this: take your favourite film in the world. Once you’ve seen it, you’ve seen it, right? Sure, you can re-watch the most poignant scenes and find little, subtle things that you’ve missed before, which can either pleasantly surprise you or affect negatively the impact the whole production has on you, and so on.
But you’ve seen it. You know how it goes. You’re aware.
In my experience, depression stems from this very concept, except that the film you’re taking in consideration is, actually and desperately, your own, whole life.
It doesn’t matter what happens in your life, bad or, God forbid, good: achievements, successes, love — it doesn’t matter, because you know.
You know about the human experience, so frail and complicated and merciless.
It’s having that pretty veil, with which most people see life, abruptly lifted from your vision with no chance of ever getting it back. Because once you know how the film goes, you know and there’s no turning back, ever. You cannot un-know things.

You can pretend not to know, of course. Most of us sail through life as if we didn’t know what it all really comes down to, and we manage to get good stints of that veiled life.
More often than not, though, something kicks the sufferer back to their starting point, and suddenly everything positive they have achieved crumbles down to those cold, cynical, devastating notions.
For some, it’s about the thought of death: why do we even bother doing things if we’re all going to die someday — what’s the point?
For some others, it’s the concept of human experience — asking themselves obsessively what do they do all this, living, for.
For some it’s a desperate combination of both. And much more.
And they get angry, and they feel useless, because they want that veil so desperately. They want to be normal. They want to sail smoothly, they want those pink glasses so fucking much.
They want to sleep, too, or at least snooze, dammit, instead of being constantly awake all the time. Can you imagine how would you feel if you were forced to stay awake all the damn time? You’d go crazy?
Yeah, that’s it. Exactly it.

Those who don’t suffer from it are often confused by what being depressed means. It’s not about being sad — sadness is part of the human experience and has to happen, otherwise happiness wouldn’t exist and we’d all live flatlined lives.
It’s about being constantly awake. It’s so tiring you have no idea.
So the irritating suggestions begin: “if you’re so tired, why don’t you sleep then?”, an adaptation of the good, ol’ “stop being depressed!” line.

Easy, isn’t it?
Do you think if they could sleep, they wouldn’t? Out of choice? Would you willingly decide not to make yourself better, if you could?
Another thing that obtuse non-sufferers don’t seem to understand is that if they’re sufferers and they’re still alive, they are fighting it. Very, very much.
Whenever we hear in the news that a depressed celebrity has commited suicide, like recently Chris Cornell or Chester Bennington, I feel there’s a divide in the reaction.
In 2016, Bennington told Metal Hammer:
“It’s funny to think that just because you’re successful you’re now immune to the full range of the human experience.”
And from that thought that made Bennington wonder, you grasp just how wide that divide is. Those who are lucky enough to never having experienced depression are shocked and confused — “how could he have wanted to die? he was rich, loved and succesfull”. And this is not just when it is a celebrity who dies of depression — it’s the despicable, ignorant “he/she had it all” adagio we all still hear too often.
Those who carry that grey weight on their shoulders, instead, think — explicitely or not, it doesn’t matter — “I totally get it”. Because they’ve been on the brink themselves. Because they know what it means to feel so tired that you can’t think about anything else.
So remember, if you come across a sufferer who is still alive, don’t assume they are weak because they suffer. Be amazed at how strongly they are fighting it, instead. And please, don’t be human and dismiss it, don’t prove their awareness right because it’s too hard to, even momentarily, lift your own veil and understand what they’re going through. Be brave.
Be brave like they are.