Depression is a Thief

             In the years I have suffered from depression I have missed out on a lot.  Depression has stolen so much.  It takes little things.  It takes big things.  There is no discretion in its thievery.  

            It started by stealing the ability to be happy, to enjoy my youth.  That has progressed throughout my life.  It is still taking that ability away from me, although I am better at fighting back at times. 

Depression has stolen life experiences away from me.  I’ve never had a real relationship.  I never considered getting married.  Depression made me believe that it was unfair to share my life with someone. Who would want to be a part of the darkness? Who would want to be with someone whose life is shrouded by depression?  This illness has made me believe that I am meant to be alone.  Depression has forced me to be alone.

When I see all the wonderful things my niece and nephew are doing, I am reminded that being a parent was stolen from me.  I never wanted to bring children into the darkness.  I realize that was a choice, but it was a choice depression forced me into making.  Depression stole the joy of having a family from me.  Now, I can only look on from afar and see what I missed out on.  

Depression has stolen memories from me.  I don’t remember much from before depression reared its ugly head.  There are little bits here and there, but I struggle to remember the time before the depression.  I have difficulty remembering events and people in my life.  I can’t remember the little things.  I can’t remember the good times.  I remember the pain.  I remember wanting to end my life, planning it.  I know there were activities I was involved in, but so much is a blur.  The darkness of depression clouds my memory.

Today, in middle age, I wonder how much of my memory problems are a result of the depression and how much are age.  My gut tells me it is the depression.  It has been stealing from me my whole life. 

I miss out on a lot because depression makes me feel like crap.  It makes me hide beneath the blankets on my bed instead of going out with friends.  Depression makes me leave family events early.  It leaves me disconnected from others.  

I know I am not alone in this.  I am not the only victim of depression’s thievery.  I am sure many of you reading this can relate.  We have similar stories.  Different things have been stolen from each of us, but we are victims of depression.  I share my experience so that others know they are not alone.  I share so that I know I am not alone. 

I know I can never get back what depression has stolen. Those times, those memories, those events, those relationships.  They are all gone.  Taken away by a cruel illness.  I grieve what I have lost.  It makes the depression worse to know how much I have missed out on. I must move forward.  I hope that as I heal, depression’s thievery will have less of an impact on me.  That is how I fight back.  I tell myself that I still have life left to live, memories left to make, relationships to enjoy.  Sometimes I believe these words.  Other times it is difficult. Depression tells me I am foolish for having hope.  It is a battle I will always fight.  Depression is a thief.  Its victims are many.  Depression is ruthless.  

Despite all depression has stolen from me, I am still alive.  I still have a chance to heal.  If depression has stolen from you, know that you are not alone.  We can fight together.  When we share our stories, we take away some of depression’s power.  Comment below if you have been a victim of depression’s thievery.  Let others know they are not alone.  

 

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