Confessing to Depression

Depression is an ugly word. It conjures many things to many people. Most of those images are negative.

I am depressed.
I have clinical depression.

I am not a naturally sad person. Far from it- I often display the full gamut of emotions.

I slowly, and inevitably, cease to function in day to day life. I let things go that I shouldn't. I ignore life going on around me and stop participating. I can't stand the give and take of conversation and the comfort and support of friends.

I fool friends and family, because I still go through the motions. People think I am functioning normally and all systems are go, but inside I am building wall upon wall around the bleakness of life that flows through me. There is no real definition to this. I sabotage things that are important to me, but at the time, I could not identify what I am doing.

It is like my body goes "enough! stop! no more abuse, no more yelling, no more hitting". I lose those reserves that keep me a tidepool of calm in the raging ocean of my life. It is a silent, hidden thing. I am not allowed to be depressed. I am the matriarch of my family and the one who keeps everything together.

I am the support to many and I can not fail them, which is why I take the drugs for the depression. But I forget pills, sink lower, neglect myself. It is a vicious cycle.

I would love to address it through exercise, diet, activity, stress-reduction and such. I wish that was possible.

I am doing better now, but the last few months have been hard. I haven't had active suicide thoughts, but I have a bit of ideation. I am just tired, I know this. It doesn't make it any easier. Does it ever get any easier? Or will I always see this as a moral failing- that I am letting people down?