I’ve Accepted Depression into My Identity

A few weeks ago, I jokingly told my coworker that “I have brown eyes” has the same value to me as “sometimes I want to kill myself”. When I got home, I realized what I had said. This made me think, do I really feel that way about myself?

Growing up, I have heard classmates, therapists, parents, and friends say that depression (or mental illness in general) was not who I was and just something that I had. It never stuck with me as fact or comfort, which I know they were trying to convey. Why is it not part of who I am and something that I just “have”? I have flat feet. Since I have flat feet, I have a lot of knee pain. Since I have a lot of knee pain, I personally tend to not partake in heart pounding, sweat covered, fat burning exercise. If I did exercise more, I would obviously have a bit more focus on that lifestyle and the things that surround it. That definitely involves who I am, because I have flat feet. Depression isn’t any different.

Sure, there is the solid fact that I have depression which isn’t something everyone has. It is not a default setting on human beings just as much as flat feet aren’t the default. However, just as there is a biological reason for my feet to not have that superior and better for walking almighty foot arch…there is a reason why sometimes I turn into a slug that has no motivation to exist and makes plans to die. It is a biological and chemical reason! There is an imbalance of chemicals in my meat and bone puppet control center, and it makes me pretty damn sad. And just as the shape of my feet steered me towards the choice of not exercising, the shape of my mind has driven me to parts of my life that have made me who I am.

One of the obvious and dare I say stereotypical ways depression has influenced my life is as an artist. This has ranged from drawing broken hearts and chains around shadowy figures as a middle school child to making self-deprecating jokes and songs as an adult in her early twenties. Granted, tapping into deep human emotion is something many artists can do. However, I like to believe when you spend a majority of your life in a dull, depressing state of mind, you see things in a different light. True happiness is so much brighter in contrast. When I am actually extremely happy, that moment sticks out in my mind for so long. Even if in my darkest hours, it may look like a dim fading light in the distance, I know I can always find my way back to it.

Because I have spent those days, weeks, or even months in that far too familiar dark chunk of nothing. It really has left its mark on my soul. But I can use that moment of weakness as an inspiration for strength. Actually, I can use it for more than just strength, and I do. I can morph my lonely thoughts into morbid humor, compassion for those suffering, dramatic storytelling, or even music or a painting. I don’t know what kind of person I would be without my depression because that is what I always have been. Even if I take medication and talk to counselors and therapists, I will always be someone who has depression. I will always be who I am. And if being me means being someone who has depression, then why shouldn’t I accept who I am? Why shouldn’t others?

I will still always work towards bettering my own understanding of my depression and how I can fight it, but I will always accept it as part of me.