My Greatest Victory is Depression.
It’s been a week since I shared about my toughest fight, depression. I would like to express my love and gratitude to all of you that reached out to me publicly and privately.
To be honest, I did not realize that my post would resonate with so many around the world. I was a bit overwhelmed with the response. (Which is why it took me so long to share my gratitude) Since I posted, a day has not gone by without someone reaching out to me and sharing how grateful they were to me for sharing my struggle. I want to thank all of you for sharing.
Depression is truly a daily battle and it’s great to know that I am not alone in this war.
I was first diagnosed with depression at age eleven. My mom noticed that I stopped talking and would lock myself in my bedroom. Now, in hindsight, I wonder how much of that self-imposed solitude and isolation was the beginning stages of depression, or actually my way of getting away from the abuse that I was experiencing from my alcoholic parents.
Choosing to not go home at nights and live in the streets is thought of as a dangerous and self-destructive endeavor for a young boy. But, for me, it was nothing compared to an environment where abuse seemed to be the norm.
At nine years old, I was absolutely sure life was a hopeless waste of time with never-ending cycles of hiding from danger. My reflection and thoughts of childhood always seem to trigger memories of hurt and hate rather than fun and joy. My mom would say that I was just very moody, like “a little puppy dog,” but she obviously had no idea what I was going through. How could she, she was incapacitated most of the time. I hated who I was and resented that I had to live the life I was living.
My “nature” to run away and avoid extremely stressful situations became a survival response. Fight or flight. Since I was not taught how to fight stress, disappointment and “failure”, I would take flight and leave. This became a huge problem in my life as I grew into manhood.
Depression has always been a battle, reminding me that I was this unimportant being that had no purpose and did not deserve to be happy or experience success. Victories would would be sabotaged by failures and shortcomings that knocked so much life out of me that I would simply shut down.
That’s the thing about depression, yes? It would sneak up on you and attack.
I don’t want depression to define me, but in a sense, it is me. It’s part of me, of who I am, my make up. More often than not, I drive myself crazy trying to separate myself from it. I don’t believe this means depression wins. This doesn’t mean when something triggers my depression, and that emotional ache, for no real reason encompasses my being (AND I am unable to vocalize my feelings to my wife let alone my friends), my depression has won the war. My depression does not get to win the war. It may challenge me and put me in a vicious battle. But it does not get to win.
It is a struggle that I am now prepared to fight at any given moment (thanks to my God-given warrior spirit and my martial arts training!) Yet, I still have not found the proper words to explain the way it feels to walk around with thin skin covering a black hole inside. But I do not believe my depression is going to destroy me. It could. It so easily could, if I choose to allow it.
Yes, my depression is a part of me, but I am NOT my depression. It’s taken me 54 years to recognize the difference, and search for ways to appreciate and love myself fully; AND to find weapons and tools to stand and fight for ME.
I would like to thank all of you who shared encouraging words and your struggles with me. It helps to know I am not alone in this war.
Knowing you are there with your love, care and compassion are a part of my weapons in my battle. Thank you for being there.
Our depression does not get to win the war. Instead, we are warriors, fighting side by side. A band of brothers and sisters holding hands and locking arms. Victorious. Undefeated.
Peace, Love, Joy and a deep bow of respect to you all.
