Photo: CA Hawthorne

Photo: CA Hawthorne

It meets your gaze when others look away,
taking your hand when others withhold.
It wipes your tears when no one sees,
whispering it’s love when you’re alone.
It shouldn’t be this way,
depression aiding invisibility,
but for too many it becomes the friend,
the lover,
the end.

©October 2016, Christina Anne Hawthorne

3 Replies to “It”

  1. Pingback: It | Christina Anne Hawthorne

  2. This is the second time I see someone refer to depression as “a friend” when everything else seems so hostile… It makes me realize how people’s experiences with the same illness can differ from one another. I know I never saw a friend (however twisted and insidious) in depression; it was a torturer aiming at making me suffer as much as possible before he’d kill me. I guess it also differs from one type of depression to another; it’s hard to compare chronic depression with, for example, postpartum depression.

    Thank you for sharing thoughts on this subject. It is too taboo. ♥

    • I agree. There isn’t one depression and, yes, everyone views even similar experiences differently. There are simply too many variables involved to make blanket statements. Chronic or postpartum? Did it manifest early or late? Was, or is, the person vilified or supported? Is there childhood abuse involved? Adult abuse?

      Some reach a point where they feel so abandoned it’s as if their pain is all they have left. That’s, perhaps, depression at its most terrifying (maybe I say that because it was my experience). The depression and self-talk become one in the same. Some reach a point where their self-condemnation is so intense they truly believe the world is better off without them. That’s the point when depression becomes the toxic vampire that smiles and encourages (via intense, negative self-talk) you to take the last step.

      The dark irony is that once you’ve suffered depression the brain kindly treats it like a habit, creating pathways to enable making a return trip easier. Knowing that is a valuable weapon against fighting it in the future. All depression is harmful, of course. There’s no ranking them. I’m a survivor, and every day I must monitor my self-talk via mindfulness. I tempt fate to post about sometimes because, as you say, it’s too taboo.

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