I think we all suffer from that little voice in our heads that says we aren’t enough at times. I know it creeps into my subconscious sometimes when I’m preoccupied with other things. I’m feeling good and then suddenly I’m overwhelmed with the feeling like I’ve been fooling myself. I start to think I’m still that person struggling to be someone I’m never going to be. I start to think that the happy, adjusted person is just me pretending to be someone I’m not. I start to loathe putting on nice clothes because I think they look foolish on me. Like trying to dress up Elephant Man. I’d rather hide my hideous body in baggy sweats and a t-shirt. I dwell on things I’ve been told about myself in the past and I manage to turn them into reality. I become ugly, boring and worthless.
I’ve been going through one of those phases for a week now. Instead of totally immersing myself in self-loathing I’ve been a bit more detached, analyzing the thoughts that cross my mind. I can identify the source of these feelings some of the time. Other times I wonder when did I start to think that way? I can see no obvious trigger. Just my mind deciding to take a detour on the dark side.
We can call it all different types of things. Low self-esteem, sadness, feeling not good enough. These things are really all the same thing: Depression. I saw my Mother suffer from it for many years and I often wondered why she didn’t do something about it. It seemed obvious to me that she was depressed. Depression often manifested itself in her as anger, tiredness and negativity. I’m not sure she ever recognized it as depression. But that was a different world.
Now its my turn and I choose to deal with it differently. I might wallow in it for a day or two almost enjoying the familiarity of an old, comfortable feeling but I don’t stay there long. I’ve found that if I keep going through the motions, stick to my routines and make the herculean effort to socialize it passes on more quickly. I try to take more of an effort with my appearance and get more exercise. I pick up the phone and call people. And I stay off the Internet….
Perhaps I’m wrong but I think that everyone must suffer from some form of depression. Maybe they don’t call it depression. I usually think of it as sadness or not feeling good enough instead of depression. Maybe I would just like to think that this is everyone’s normal at times. Misery loves company, right?