It’s been almost two years since I stopped seeing a therapist, and I am much better, mostly. I think everyone should speak to a therapist. A therapist can be someone you pay to sit and talk to for an hour a week or someone that lets you talk for free – someone willing to listen to the nothing that might be consuming your soul and weighing you down. Nothingness can be heavy.
Mostly, I think it’s important to talk. I think it’s important to talk for yourself and it’s important to talk for others. It’s important to talk about depression. It’s such a deeply personal thing that it might seem contrary, but it’s also a collective experience and however much it might feel like sharing won’t help anyone, it might. I feel that if more people had been open to me about being depressed, it might have made it more manageable to deal with when it hit me full force. It’s not something that has to be whispered about and it’s not something to be ashamed of, but it is something that some people have to live with, and it is something that can be managed and controlled.
It’s part of me and it’s part of so many others. You don’t know until it’s hit you that you can feel so low, and you don’t know until you’re out of it for a bit that you can start feeling things that aren’t holes of heavy nothingness (the ultimate seemingly endless paradox).
Talking might make some people uncomfortable, but some comfort zones need to be broken up to break down discomfort zones, to fill up voids and to start repairing broken souls.
You have a voice.
The world needs to hear you.