Can I still be heard?

Being the white girl with parents still married, a car, a job, and endless opportunities?

 

Can I still be broken?

When the world tells me I've got it made. When my circumstances cry out to me, "YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY!"?

 

Can I still wish for more?

When society tells me I carry all kinds of inherent privilege due to things about me that I cannot control?

 

Can I still be sad?

When I'm going through hard times that are a direct result of a decision I've made that I don't regret making?

 

Can I still be affected?

By a mental illness that knows no socioeconomic or racial bounds on who it plagues?

 

Can I still be depressed?

When I walk with a God that I believe can heal everything and cares about me at a depth I'll never be able to understand?

 

I say yes. Yes, I can. Because I am.

 

My depression didn't look at my determination when it told me I would fail.

My depression didn't look at my strength when it told me I was weak.

My depression didn't look at my faith in a God that loves me when it told me nobody cared.

My depression didn't look at my family and friends when it told me I was alone.

 

There was no warning. Nobody talks about this, it seems. That so many people are plagued by this very disease, but they write it off as just simply a bad day. But what do you do when your bad days outnumber your good ones? What do you do when the coldness within is starting to freeze you from the inside out? What do you do when you realize that you're still afraid of the dark, and this darkness can't be fixed by turning on a light?

 

I'd heard about this depression. I'd heard it demoralized you, paralyzed you, and ostracized you... You, maybe. But surely not me. No, never me.. Until it did. Until it knocked me off my feet. Until it made me so cold that no amount of blankets could warm me. Until the darkness got so thick that my nightlight came in the form of a prescription.

 

 

It's about 11 PM in this mental night of mine. I have a decent amount of darkness left to endure. 

Luckily, my depression didn't look at my determination when it told me I would fail.

Luckily, my depression didn't look at my strength when it told me I was weak.

Luckily, my depression didn't look at my faith in a God that loves me when it told me nobody cared.

Luckily, my depression didn't look at my family and friends when it told me I was alone.

 

Will the bad days grow more scarce? Will the cold thaw out at last? Will this darkness turn to light?

 

I say yes.