Depression for years, I find it very difficult not to feel guilty when I inflict the worst torments on my loved ones.
Depression will take everything from you. Your time, your thoughts, your self-esteem. First of all, it will also take your friends from you.
Unlike suicide – straightforward, brutal, sonorous – depression works slowly, with an indolent roar. People very often forget what a long descent into hell can be. Friends no longer know how to socially interact with someone who is depressed and exhausting, especially if their discomfort lingers.
Depression in my life :
As far as I’m concerned, the alliance between my borderline personality disorder and my depression is equivalent to a capsule of soluble cyanide that I keep preciously between my teeth each time I enter into a social relationship. Logically, over the weeks, the latter will melt to release all its toxicity.
I understand my friends. I understand the people around me who decide to cut ties with someone who is never in a good mood and who seems to take pleasure in his egocentrism, his unpredictability. It’s all the easier to cut ties with a friend when the friend has stopped talking to you first.
I know the following story by heart – probably because I am not the protagonist. One of my best friends – a talented writer, a great guy – started to close in on himself. He deleted all of his Facebook friends, stopped answering messages and calls, and then went on to live as a hermit. We all knew there was something going on. My friends kept sending me messages.
None of us went to see X. It was two years ago. Since then, no one has spoken again or seen X again. He is not dead, but he is gone. He saw reclusive in the meanders of his mind.
Last year, I slipped back into my depression and began to imitate this behavior. Basically, I isolated myself from everyone. In six months, I have lost as many friends as I have in a lifetime.
Such hibernation is not necessarily voluntary. When your mind is feeling weak and your days are just one endless repetition of desperate thoughts and actions, it becomes difficult to find the strength to stand up to attend a friend’s concert, have a coffee or even respond. to a message. The disease is so devious that it manages to convince you of your meanness. In the end, you come to tell yourself that being away is a good thing for your friends.
You sink into silence lest your internal moans ruin other people’s good mood.
People with depression carry their guilt like a burden. Depression is a cataclysm, an anvil that crushes you and takes away most of your social relationships. Your loved ones – formerly full of zeal and kindness towards you – are gradually washed away, eroded until they become as smooth and insensitive as a pebble by the sea. No one wants to give love to a person unable to render any.
I’ve already told some mates that their presence spun me the sheaf, to my parents that my brain was sick from their fault, and to the person I loved that I wasted his time – all felt guilty.
I have never been able to properly thank people. I repeatedly felt my tongue swell and stagger when I tried to release a simple “thank you”.
Indeed, it’s hard for me to tell my girlfriend that her presence by my side watching cartoons all day keeps me alive – it tends to weigh down the conversation somewhat.
My doctors and shrinks always told me to ask for help when I was at the bottom of the pit. The problem is, this method doesn’t work if it’s your guilt that rules all of the important decisions in your life.
Depression as such never makes an individual go away. No, what makes a depressed person disappear is the loneliness that gradually wins over him, as his friends move away.
We must accept one thing: the patient is never guilty, nor his friends. It is for depression that we must reserve our contempt.