TheBanyanTree: Bouncing Back

[Monique Colver]

Here’s what they don’t tell you about depression: (Okay, there’s many
things they don’t tell you, because who can tell you everything?)

After a severe depressive episode, bouncing back is not in any way bouncing
back, and the damage from being at your lowest is hard to repair. It’s no
walk in the park. I didn’t wake up one day with the world all bright and
cheery. I lost my confidence while I was gone, laid it down neatly on the
road and let it get run over. It wasn’t really a road, more a superhighway.
Once I put it down there was no getting it back.

This isn’t the kind of thing you can tell people, because unless they’ve
experienced it, they don’t get it. It also doesn’t look good for my
business.

“Dear Client, I lost all my confidence, just thought you should know.”

No. You can’t tell them. You really can’t tell many people because as we
all know, people like people who are happy and positive, not anxiety
ridden, not doubtful, not scared. That’s what we’re told, isn’t it? But not
me, no, I tell everyone, because I am lacking in common sense. That, and I
take the shreds of feedback I get and try to piece them into a whole. And
yes, we all know it has to come from within, but we can’t negate the
outside feedback. It’s so important, at least for me, because I’m more than
my experience. (Luckily for me.)

So there I am – at my lowest, my confidence trying to make a comeback,
trying not to scare off all my clients because I need the work, and trying
not to rely on the anti-anxiety meds because I so want to be able to deal
with this on my own.

Anti-depressants are enough, I think. The anxiety is because I lost my
confidence and need to get it back, and no amount of meds will make up for
that. I have to do that on my own.

You can ask me: all my peers are smarter, more accomplished, better at
everything. I’ll tell you the truth. Some of my peers are my very good
friends, so I should know. My friends are awesome. I’m not even sure how
someone like me ends up with such awesome friends.

If you would ask me, I would tell you that from this vantage point,
everyone has their shit together, except me, but I’m only seeing a narrow
view, a small sliver of life. The depression has taken away my sight, the
ability to see beyond my own basic needs. It sucks, pretty much, to be in
this place.

Every day is a fight to come back to the land of the living, and every day
is progress, but it’s still hard. It’s an uphill climb, but every now and
then I see bright flashes of light, or muted rays of light through the
darkness. I still have awesome people around me, and the ones who don’t
want to hear about it weren’t really friends to begin with, were they?

Each day I wake up and tell myself that I too can live a life without being
ashamed of who I am.

And each day I come a little closer to believing it.