Warning

Trigger Warning.

Sometimes the posts would have those two words prefacing a sad page of someone else's troubles. Their stories almost always mimicked my own.

I long ago abandoned the internet's message boards for a therapist and now... the trigger warnings don't come with labels.

They come out of nowhere and one right after the other.

The anniversary of a friend's death and an atmosphere permeated with sadness. An argument that feels bigger than it is and too much coffee. Cards and conversations and hugs and supportive gazes. A year's collection of memories spilling over, mixing with current struggles and tears. Just one day.

A feeling of worthlessness washes over in the middle of normalcy. I hear negative past remarks screaming at me. I hear, "you're not good enough" and "you're going to fail" and "why are you even here?" and that minuscule sprout of self confidence that had been struggling to the surface shies away and dies.

A moment in conversation that brings clarity. Terrifying clarity. I see things about myself now that yesterday I didn't and they're glaring. I feel like a neon sign is flashing at me, reminding me that I will always have something to work on. I have trouble sleeping.

And then, an opportunity. Something within stirs and the sprout again pushes towards life. But before it can be caressed with gentle hope, I hear, "Don't bother" and "Why do you think you could do that?" and "You're still not good enough." and I have to swallow hard to push it down into silence.

I listen to music that brings memories of something I don't want to think about. It hurts and peels a layer away from a healing scar. I want to scream the lyrics and for a moment I do. I punish myself by listening, each pound of the bass a memory when I wasn't me. I change the music.

I come home and make dinner. I don't really want it until I accidentally drop it on the floor.

I cry. I let myself fall into the arms of someone that loves me and sob. I ignore everything else in the world except the feeling of support. I let tears soak his shirt and my heart slow back to normal through deep breaths. He lets me go and I sit quietly for a while before talking about the triggers.

How it felt like they came out of nowhere. One right after the other.

I'm exhausted. My head and eyes hurt from crying and not sleeping well and I want so much for tomorrow to be just another day. The person that loves me has made me laugh and it feels like maybe  the worst part is on it's way out. For today.

You just never know when things can change. When the past will scream at you. When a memory will flood through and wash out all good thoughts in a second. When your dinner will fall on the floor.

No warning.

Therapeutic Dose

"I encourage you to journal about what you've done, how far you've come in the last year..."


I admire people that have triumphed over a hard situation. Seeing they have overcome hard words, situations and circumstances and then come through with hope and support for others is encouraging. It's freaking hard to be a person but even harder to mend from other people. And it's a slow process for most.

She was flipping pages of my file, pausing occasionally to read a note. "Practiced detachment."

I tensed. Detachment. That's a hard one. I tend to care with my whole self and heart. It leads me to pain quite often. Over the last year or so, I've had to learn that it's ok to care about my whole self and heart first. In fact, it's kind of the only thing you can do in order to care about others.

I've learned to let go and let people live their life, even if it's painful to watch them live it. Even if I can see them making dangerous decisions or hurting themselves I have to step back. I can ensure that they know I'm here for them, and love them. But my only responsibility is to remember that we have to fight our own battles.

"Stopped coming in early, leaving late and working through lunch."
She raised her eyebrow at me and I nodded. "I still come in and leave on time."
"And lunch?"
I decided to be honest. "I usually still sit in my office, but I don't work. I usually just read facebook or something."

Or do online shopping. Or watch cat videos. I should be walking at lunch, or at least breathing air that's not recycled but I'm not quite to the place that I want to actually give a shit about my health yet. That one always seems to be the last part to come back in my ongoing self-esteem rebuild.

"Took trip to ocean by self; felt 'rejuvenated'."

I took a deep breath. "This is what I don't understand. How is taking a drive an accomplishment? How is that something I've achieved?"

She stared at me a moment. "Had you ever done anything like that before?"

I shook my head. "No."

"It's an accomplishment for exactly that reason. You tried something and you did it and you succeeded. You said you felt rejuvenated when you got back."

"Yeah...I guess I did. But..."

She closed the file and waited. This was typical of how we worked together. It took me a moment to form my thought. "I guess I don't see those things as successful things. Achievements. While it was happening, it didn't feel like I was achieving anything. It felt like I was drowning and doing those things were like me clinging to a life ring for survival. I did whatever I could to just try and feel better."

"Oh I see."

I watched her. Was that not the reaction I should have had? Am I still broken? I'd been feeling better lately, stronger. Was I wrong?

"I mean...does, that make sense?"

She nodded, "It does." And then she paused. "I encourage you to journal about the things you've done, how far you've come in the last year. There have been a lot of things you've shared with me that most people would still be struggling with understanding and you are already in the process of letting them go. That's a huge deal. And more than just surviving."

I left her office and let myself think about things I'd discussed with her on the drive home. I wasn't surprised to feel emotions bubbling up. I've had some really tough days. Weeks. And months. I had spent this same drive crying to the point I had to pull over. I've gotten ill from stress and feelings left unexpressed. I have gained nearly all the weight back I lost last year when I was in a better place and I've battled depression and anxiety nearly every day. I've learned to recognize triggers, how to deal with them when they come,  and what codependency is. I've learned that I don't have to do everything for everyone all the time. I've learned I can say no. I've learned that if I want to stay home and work on a jigsaw puzzle or have a day of sloth on Sunday, I can. I've learned that I can do something I've never done before and come away feeling stronger.

I've learned I don't need to cling to a life ring when I'm drowning, if I can learn how to swim.

I am lucky. I have an incredible support system and leaned heavily on them often over the last year. I do admire people that have triumphed over difficulties but the people standing by their side are the true heroes.

What If?

One of the worst things you can say to a person with depression is, "Just get over it." Even if someone tries to be gentle about it and frames it as a question like, "Can't you just get over it?" it's still shitty.

I don't blame them for asking. It's a question that seems totally legit to someone that has never experienced depression. Not being sad. Depressed. There's a big difference between the two but it doesn't feel like it for anyone in either camp.

I have been sad before. And I've been lost in depression. Tonight while brushing my teeth, I let myself wonder, "What if? What if I could just get over it?"

What if when my mind starts racing with snippets of songs I heard earlier in the day and the project at work and the friend that's struggling and the fella that's grumpy and the new kitten that I still can't quite let myself deserve and the flowers at work that maybe I should have brought home and not given him so much shit about because now I wonder if he gave them to me because he wanted to or because I was vocal about wanting them? What if I could just be silent?

What if I was able to look at myself in the mirror and smile instead of wince away? What if I just did what I know will help me feel better? What if I stopped feeling like I can't do anything? What if thinking about making better changes for myself wasn't so terrifying and overwhelming? What if just thinking about stepping on the scale didn't make me want to cry? What if when I went shopping for clothes I actually enjoyed it?

What would happen if I was able to accept a compliment? Or believed it? What if I was able to actually say 'thank you' and not spend the rest of the day wondering if I sounded arrogant? What if I was able to walk by a group of people and not think their conversation was about how terrible I was? What would happen if I stopped hearing voices from the past telling me that was absolutely what was happening?

What if I didn't feel all the things I feel? What if I didn't actually hurt when I read about tragic things happening in our world? What kind of life would I have? Would I still be kind? Or would I grow hard and indifferent? What if I was able to experience my senses in only the most basic of ways? What if I could say/dress/be who I wanted to be without constant wonder what others thought? Would I be different?

What if I could sleep normally? What if 3 am was just how late I used to stay up in my twenties instead of when my day starts? What if my dreams were of full of hope for the future instead of battling my past? What if I could recognize my triggers instead of getting slammed with circumstance? What if everything didn't scare me so? What if I could trust that life,that I, will just get through this?

What if I could just get over it?


*I really am ok. But I haven't been before. I have been all of the things I talked about above and more. Right now I'm in a good place but there will always be a fear of losing that feeling. Another difference between sadness and depression is that sadness fades, often changing into a life lessons. Depression can lay dormant, waiting and ready to latch onto the smallest of anxieties to drag you away from good places.  But right now, I feel ok. Even a little bit strong. What if that was me?