This is something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember, and I know I’m not the only one.
It’s not all that surprising – when your mood changes, your thoughts, opinions and feelings are bound to be affected too. And when that’s something that happens around the clock, without notice, it gets hard to pinpoint who’s the impostor and who’s the real you.
Sometimes I’m a pessimistic, angry, inconsiderate witch who says horrible things to the people I love most. Other times, I’m the kind of person who makes handmade gifts, sends random messages of encouragement to a friend, or buys coffee for the person behind me at the drive-thru. There are days I wake up in a loud, smiling, energetic mood. And then there are the days where I am nothing but a silent blob, breaking code only to cry.
So which one is really me??
Obviously, I’d like to say it’s the generous, happy-go-lucky girl who can do no wrong. But I have to admit that’s not the case. It’s hard to pinpoint where (if) Becca ends and depression, mania, schizo-shit, what-have-you, take over. And it’s easy to say, “this isn’t you,” to someone who is depressed. But is it true?
I know I’ve heard it before and I certainly didn’t believe it when it was said to me. And even now, in a ‘sounder’ mind, I don’t really agree with it. Of course it’s me. Who else was it if it wasn’t me?
Don’t worry, I’m going to elaborate.
I’ll start by saying my overwhelmingly dark days have been drastically reduced. I’m still on a rollercoaster, but for now, the big loops and turns are behind me. I haven’t had more than 3 consecutive days of hell in over a year. Coming from someone who used to get stuck in black holes for months at a time, that’s a serious improvement.
In my personal opinion, I am my depression/mania/schizo-shit, and my depression/mania/schizo-shit is me. I know this goes against what I’ve said in the past, and it certainly goes against what everyone tells you about your depression not defining you. But I’m just trying a different approach because the other one simply doesn’t work for me anymore.
Subconsciously, I think being told “this isn’t you,” ate away at me for a long time. People used to say it to me a lot, especially when I was stuck in a cloud. I was hurting inside and I didn’t know why. They wanted to help, so they told me that’s not who I was; this sadness isn’t the bubbly Becca they knew. Eventually, I think it got to the point where I started to believe it, but not how they intended. It made me feel like I really had lost myself, and that I wasn’t ever coming back. Becca was gone and depression took her place. And as much as I didn’t want to believe I had turned into this broken down piece of a person… I had. I had been beaten down by my own psyche, and I was so afraid at the fact that I didn’t even know myself anymore. I tried to remember who I was ‘before’, and I couldn’t do it. I had no idea who I was with or without depression.
A whole lot of love and support has led me to a different thought process.
All of this is me. All of these traits are who I am. And that’s fine.
On my bad days, I am me.
On my good days, I am me.
On my ‘normal days’, I am me.
In short, my depression is me, and I am my depression… but I’m a lot of other things too.
I live, act, feel and love in extremes. Unfortunately that means sometimes I lose control. It means that some people can’t handle me. It means that sometimes I’m hard to understand. It means that sometimes I hurt people. But it also means I love with an exploding heart.
I’m done fighting my own image. I am who I am as I am.
Trying to separate pieces of my identity is tedious and unnecessary.
This is who I am, and I’d rather just deal with it.