I don't know how to help.
I've been reading a lot of things online, mostly those long tumblr posts where people comment 'THIS!' or 'RELATABLE!' because that seems to be what people identify with most. I read the descriptions of not being able to taste anything but mashed potatoes and feeling like there's a rain cloud over your head, or a glass wall separating you from everyone else. I've even read the comments of people who are depressed on Facebook, read through the articles they post and the comics with social anxiety beating you up and not letting you go outside, or wearing a paper mask that melts in the rain...
And I still don't know. I can't butt in and force you to go to therapy. I can't even communicate that I know you're depressed. You deny me every time. You pretend everything is ok when I know it's not. You don't text me at 3 in the morning. You don't text me at all. I message you every now and then and you joke about death.... maybe if I joke too, you won't take it seriously.
But now you're offended... 'Suicide isn't funny!' 'Don't make fun of something you don't understand!' It's a club that I'm not a part of, a dark pit I can't see the bottom of because I'm on the surface. I don't 'get it' and you won't let me in, won't let me get it, won't let me understand.
You won't get help.
'Why don't people treat mental illness like a physical illness?' Because I can see your blood with my eyes. You can't deny it because it's right there.When you're depressed, if you decide it's not there, nothing I say will change your mind. I can call the police to indicate your harm, there are reliable tests they can run to say, indeed, you have a physical injury.
When it's mental, when it's inside your head, you need to tell me how it is because I can't see it. I'm not in the pit, so I don't know; and you tell me all the time that I don't know.
1/2 the time, I think you're proud of your mask and 'pretending to fit in with everyone else' #relatable. You get irritated when I ask you to do things, you push me away again and again and maybe not everyone can keep coming back to that kind of abuse.
That's right, I said abuse. If neither one of us had depression and you pushed me away constantly and refused to do anything with me, people would tell me to stay away from you, that it was an obvious social cue that you wanted nothing to do with me. And you say 'But depression makes it different', and that's true, but you keep telling me you don't have depression...
So which is it?
What do I believe?
How do I help?
I can't call the cops to come to your house because all they'll see is a sad person. How do I explain that this person went colorless and doesn't know it and won't help themselves? With all the pointers and reminders and love around them, this person is blind and can't see the love that surrounds them, can't feel it, only views my concerns as annoyances, shuts themselves away and wonders why we don't talk... I see a broken wing on an otherwise resplendent bird, a hiccup in a hero, but what do the cops see? What do you see? A sad person who cannot motivate themselves. They'll lecture me for wasting their time and you'll shun me for almost exposing you as needing help.
I tell you to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, to take up a new hobby, to look on the bright side, to exercise and smile more and go outside and talk to someone
because I can't do those things for you. I can't make you happy. I can't make the colors come back. I can't pull your head up or call attention to the things that you'll miss.
If you die...
What is everyone going to say? While I'm busy beating myself up for not dragging you to therapy, everyone comes down and asks why I didn't see the signs. 'She was such a happy soul!' 'He was so selfless!' And all those things are true, those and so many other wonderful qualities you don't believe you have. How do I explain to them that I saw you dying every day and tried to hold up a mirror, how do I explain that you refused to acknowledge you needed help, that you pushed away the suggestion that you might not be ok? That even with the stigma of mental disease, I tried to reassure you it was all right and it wouldn't change my love for you, but you needed the approval of the world over mine. And the world would never approve. I see the beauty and the potential and how lucky your crappy coworkers are to be around your brilliance. And you know the one thing I don't know?
Why you didn't see it. Why I wasn't enough. Everyone thinks '1 person is enough' '1 person can change your world' and I've been trying for years, doing everything from the tough love to soft love to not-there love to too much love. I've been there and everywhere else trying to make you see how much you mean to me and everyone else in your life.
The one person that's going to change your life is you. I've tried so long and so hard to make you see the light and when people talk about that '1 person' they're really talking about something inside them that changed. I compliment you, I ask what's wrong, I try to be there for you, but after a certain point, maybe I'm part of the problem.
Maybe I'm why you're sad because I can't make you happy, I can't make you smile, I try to ask you to do things or go places and you just push me away and maybe it's because you don't want to be around me.
I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't make you smile. I tried. I really tried. Just like I can't tell when you're depressed, I can't tell if you like me, like being around me. I'm not asking you to change overnight, or really asking you to do anything. I don't know what being in the pit feels like, but I can imagine and even if it's not 1/200th as bad as it actually is, I know the pit is an awful place to be. Maybe if I go away, you'll come out. But maybe if I stay, you'll decide it's nicer on the surface. I can't take you to the doctor or force pills down your throat.
Sometimes I'll stay, sometimes I'll go. I'll carry you with me forever, though, and no matter what happens, I'll always wonder if there was more I could have done, even if I did everything.
Sincerely,
Your Friend
I've been reading a lot of things online, mostly those long tumblr posts where people comment 'THIS!' or 'RELATABLE!' because that seems to be what people identify with most. I read the descriptions of not being able to taste anything but mashed potatoes and feeling like there's a rain cloud over your head, or a glass wall separating you from everyone else. I've even read the comments of people who are depressed on Facebook, read through the articles they post and the comics with social anxiety beating you up and not letting you go outside, or wearing a paper mask that melts in the rain...
And I still don't know. I can't butt in and force you to go to therapy. I can't even communicate that I know you're depressed. You deny me every time. You pretend everything is ok when I know it's not. You don't text me at 3 in the morning. You don't text me at all. I message you every now and then and you joke about death.... maybe if I joke too, you won't take it seriously.
But now you're offended... 'Suicide isn't funny!' 'Don't make fun of something you don't understand!' It's a club that I'm not a part of, a dark pit I can't see the bottom of because I'm on the surface. I don't 'get it' and you won't let me in, won't let me get it, won't let me understand.
You won't get help.
'Why don't people treat mental illness like a physical illness?' Because I can see your blood with my eyes. You can't deny it because it's right there.When you're depressed, if you decide it's not there, nothing I say will change your mind. I can call the police to indicate your harm, there are reliable tests they can run to say, indeed, you have a physical injury.
When it's mental, when it's inside your head, you need to tell me how it is because I can't see it. I'm not in the pit, so I don't know; and you tell me all the time that I don't know.
1/2 the time, I think you're proud of your mask and 'pretending to fit in with everyone else' #relatable. You get irritated when I ask you to do things, you push me away again and again and maybe not everyone can keep coming back to that kind of abuse.
That's right, I said abuse. If neither one of us had depression and you pushed me away constantly and refused to do anything with me, people would tell me to stay away from you, that it was an obvious social cue that you wanted nothing to do with me. And you say 'But depression makes it different', and that's true, but you keep telling me you don't have depression...
So which is it?
What do I believe?
How do I help?
I can't call the cops to come to your house because all they'll see is a sad person. How do I explain that this person went colorless and doesn't know it and won't help themselves? With all the pointers and reminders and love around them, this person is blind and can't see the love that surrounds them, can't feel it, only views my concerns as annoyances, shuts themselves away and wonders why we don't talk... I see a broken wing on an otherwise resplendent bird, a hiccup in a hero, but what do the cops see? What do you see? A sad person who cannot motivate themselves. They'll lecture me for wasting their time and you'll shun me for almost exposing you as needing help.
I tell you to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, to take up a new hobby, to look on the bright side, to exercise and smile more and go outside and talk to someone
because I can't do those things for you. I can't make you happy. I can't make the colors come back. I can't pull your head up or call attention to the things that you'll miss.
If you die...
What is everyone going to say? While I'm busy beating myself up for not dragging you to therapy, everyone comes down and asks why I didn't see the signs. 'She was such a happy soul!' 'He was so selfless!' And all those things are true, those and so many other wonderful qualities you don't believe you have. How do I explain to them that I saw you dying every day and tried to hold up a mirror, how do I explain that you refused to acknowledge you needed help, that you pushed away the suggestion that you might not be ok? That even with the stigma of mental disease, I tried to reassure you it was all right and it wouldn't change my love for you, but you needed the approval of the world over mine. And the world would never approve. I see the beauty and the potential and how lucky your crappy coworkers are to be around your brilliance. And you know the one thing I don't know?
Why you didn't see it. Why I wasn't enough. Everyone thinks '1 person is enough' '1 person can change your world' and I've been trying for years, doing everything from the tough love to soft love to not-there love to too much love. I've been there and everywhere else trying to make you see how much you mean to me and everyone else in your life.
The one person that's going to change your life is you. I've tried so long and so hard to make you see the light and when people talk about that '1 person' they're really talking about something inside them that changed. I compliment you, I ask what's wrong, I try to be there for you, but after a certain point, maybe I'm part of the problem.
Maybe I'm why you're sad because I can't make you happy, I can't make you smile, I try to ask you to do things or go places and you just push me away and maybe it's because you don't want to be around me.
I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't make you smile. I tried. I really tried. Just like I can't tell when you're depressed, I can't tell if you like me, like being around me. I'm not asking you to change overnight, or really asking you to do anything. I don't know what being in the pit feels like, but I can imagine and even if it's not 1/200th as bad as it actually is, I know the pit is an awful place to be. Maybe if I go away, you'll come out. But maybe if I stay, you'll decide it's nicer on the surface. I can't take you to the doctor or force pills down your throat.
Sometimes I'll stay, sometimes I'll go. I'll carry you with me forever, though, and no matter what happens, I'll always wonder if there was more I could have done, even if I did everything.
Sincerely,
Your Friend
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