The Great Intolerable Voice of All Things Wrong

This came out last night, in describing my anger at someone using my depression against me.

In the past, I've had people say they couldn't (or wouldn't) be with me because of my depression, or the roots it has in some of my dysmorphia and anger/frustration at my situation. I understand that it may be unappealing, or hurtful to you, but it is a completely unfair claim to use it as the reasoning to not be with me. Just as claiming my trans status is an unfair bullshit claim, my depression is as well.

Imagine telling someone you couldn't be with them because they had panic attacks, or were had epileptic seizures at times. How abelist and unfair is that statement to make.

The depression, doesn't sit with me, all the time. It's a small voice that whispers in your ears when you're aren't busy, the tiniest of voices that points out all the bad things, all the wrong things you did, or that were done. It points out the flaws, the makes wild accusations about how they are linked. It draws paranoid conclusions about how that one thing you did, has connections to this other, unrelated thing, and how it all really is your fault. It whispers, softly, that everything you know is a lie, that it is wrong, its bad, its shit, and terrible. It tells you that this is a pattern, that you've always felt this way, that you're entire life has been this way, bad, shit, terrible, and that it will always be this way. It tells you over and over how this is all there is, and how there is no meaning to it. It tells you the universe is pointless, and that with no point, you're just suffering in a shit world, and that really, suicide is the only way out, an act of mercy and kindness in a world of shit, that will be shit, and has been shit, and will be as such forevermore.

It never stops. You just lean to adjust to it. Sometimes you forget about it, and tune it out. Sometimes it shouts at you, and it yells painfully into your ear.

You learn to compensate around it, as humans do. You pull a shroud around yourself to block out everything, both the good and the bad, as, well as long as it keeps the shit out, its better than not. And then someone leaves you, because in the middle of all this, they don't feel loved, or, they can't handle you, or, any myriad of other excuses. And you can't help but wonder, why they can't smell all this shit, why don't they see it?

That's what its like in here. That's what depression is. You can't control the voices, you just have different periods of attenuation to it. Somedays you can tune it out with amazing other experiences, others not, but there is no getting rid of it. There is no escape from it. You just, hope to more good days than not.