This is my club.
It’s one of those awesome clubs that nobody admits they are a member of. Except this one doesn’t get you better jobs or help you to rig Oscar night, which is what I assume all secret non-depression-based clubs do.
Essentially, all I’ve been doing for the last couple of months is drawing pictures of what this strange feeling in my head looks like. Which on this particular day involved the drawing above. And this dinosaur:
In general, I will tell people that I suffer from depression, but I never explain how bad it gets. And the reason is that I’m pretty sure even good friends don’t want to hear it. Which is probably selling the beautiful people in my life a bit short.
Like yesterday, when I lay on the couch all day crying and thinking The Worst Thoughts. But a couple of my friends & family did help me, and for that I’m grateful.
The reason I’m posting this is threefold.
Firstly, there is this dreadful secrecy and embarrassment that surrounds any type of mental illness. So I think it’s important to come out and say that yes, I’m a person who can suffer from debilitating depression that can get very, very bad. (And yes, it’s also kind of embarrassing, if I’m honest.)
Secondly, I think in this glorious internet age, we have a tendency to show our lives in the best possible light. With the result that other human beings can feel terribly alone. I’d like to embrace the fact that I’m a person who can experience amazingly cool shit, but that I also have the unfortunate capacity to wish I were dead.
Thirdly, and the most selfish reason, I can’t seem to draw anything else until I get this off my chest.
I also have a drawing of what I think I look like in a bikini, but I’m hoping like hell that I don’t feel overly compelled to share that one as well.