10 things a depressed and anxious person wants everyone else to know

Note: I have so, so many flaws, quirks, or whatever you want to call them that have nothing to do with my depression or anxiety. Please do not see this as me making an excuse or cop out for mistakes I’ve made/will make.

First, I hate when people call it an illness. One, because it presumes I could (or should) get better (what does ‘better’ even mean?) and two because I don’t like to think of myself as perpetually sick.

Second, it sucks. It really, truly sucks.

If I could snap myself out of it, I would. Yes, I’ve tried the recommended remedies like vitamins, a healthy diet, exercise, marijuana, therapy and prescription pills. I’ve also tried the not-so-recommended treatments, namely alcohol, too. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes it’s a combination. Sometimes it’s none of the above, and I’m just screwed up for awhile.

Third, my perfectionism is a cover up for my insecurity and low self-esteem. I try to do everything and everything well because my brain tells me it’s the only way I will gain love and acceptance.

I am constantly comparing myself to others. If I meet a chess savant, I want to study chess. If I meet an excellent golfer, I want to refine my short game. This is not because I am competitive, per se, but rather that I perceive myself as inferior unless I take on everyone’s greatest strength. (Yes, I realize that typed out this sounds absolutely crazy, let alone impossible. There is literally a voice in my brain saying right now — ‘no Julie, it’s not impossible for some people. Only for you.’ This is what I mean.)

Fourth, social outings or events sound excellent at first but end up being terrifying as the date inches closer. I’m sorry for making plans and then not showing up or re-scheduling. Keep inviting me because I really want to go, but sometimes I just can’t. Sorry!

Fifth, please don’t judge me if I need to take prescription medicine. And no, marijuana is not the cure to everything and actually makes my anxiety worse (but please feel free to keep puffin’ if that’s what floats your boat. I won’t judge you, if you don’t judge me. Deal?) I don’t feel great about the fact I (sometimes) have to take a pill to cope, but look, if it helps me not burst out into tears or feel like I’m going to die then I think it’s worth it.

6–9 TL;DR style:

6. Just because I’m not talking doesn’t mean I don’t have things I want to say.

7. Don’t pity or patronize me please.

8. I secretly love compliments, even though I act like I hate them.

9. I often need time alone, while coincidentally needing to know someone is still there/available if I have a breakdown.

Finally, I wanted to end this with “depression and anxiety don’t define me.” But then I realized it’s more like, “I’d like to think that my depression and anxiety don’t define me.” But if I’m being honest with myself, depression and anxiety have been, and will likely continue to be, a large, albeit annoying, part of my life. And maybe that is OK. Maybe I should stop trying to get ‘better’ and just try to live.

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