From A Point Of View

Every once in awhile my husband have a very deep conversation. I'm talking mental scars and unsung anguish deep. It always happens very naturally, and he's always patient as I try to piece an indescribable moment into a befuddled jumble of nouns and verbs. Sometimes it takes me awhile to draw a comparison and make it relatable.

But he always waits.

He wants so desperately to understand. He wants to empathize. He wants to be proactive to counter attack my inner demons.

And so he waits for words.

The hardest part for me in our relationship is communication and learning how to relay how I feel or think. Sometimes I don't have a clue why I feel how I do. But most times, I know the reason but it's easier to deny than face it.

Our latest talk involved something near and dear to probably most of us: Depression. What a fun topic, to say the least.

'What is the difference' He asked, 'between feeling depressed at a specific moment and having depression?'

'Well,' I leaned back and tried to carefully word my opinion, 'I think every person in their life feels depressed at some point. Feeling depressed is just a part of life. But it's different when you can shake it off, so to speak, and move on. See I can't do that. For me, it's a constant thing. And though I would never dismiss anyone's depression, I would say a constant depression causes more mental suffering than say a moment or time of being depressed. I hope that makes sense.' And I laugh and say I don't really know.

But, I kind of do.

I pause and say, 'I wish I knew what that was like.'

'What's that?' Link asks as he shifts in his chair.

I clasp my hands and look thoughtfully at the studs that run through the barn.

'What is it like to brush it off? What is it like to just wake up and not feel tired and feel ready for the day? What is it like to be happy and not have that knowledge that it's only very temporary and it will be taken away from me?'

'Well I have felt that way, waiting for the shoe to drop. Expecting an inevitable downfall.'

'Yes, but in that moment when you're laughing and you feel the euphoria of happiness, do you consciously think "this will be over soon and it will be taken from me"?'

'No, I suppose that's a bit different.' I can see him trying hard to empathize, trying to reach out and brush that nasty darkness away.

'You know, if your life had been different, you wouldn't even be conscious to the idea of depression. You wouldn't recognize how good you have it. I had good parents, so I thought that was normal and I took it for granted. You wouldn't even realive how good you have it.'

'But what is it like to be so blissfully ignorant? I wonder what it is like.' I close my eyes and my shoulders slump. 'I don't think people realize all the ways depression interferes with your day to day life. It affects everything about you - your personality, the way you think, what you believe, how you sleep, how you eat, heck even how your body digests food and the way you walk. Depression changes everything about you. When I walk, I have to remind myself "head up, shoulders out, walk straight and proud" because if I don't, I slump and try to hide as I stare at the ground and hope no one will notice me.'

Link listens thoughtfully, his fingers pressed together, touching his upper lip.

'I think that's the hardest part,' I continue, 'it changes you so much that it's hard sometimes to figure out where the depression ends and you begin.'

'You seem to have it figured out though,' Link replies, ' I mean, no one would look at you and know.'

'But it is such a struggle. It isn't something I can just pick up and put down. It's a constant mind game of convincing myself to take care of myself and to do things and that I am worth it in the end. You combine that with paranoia and crippling social anxiety and you've got it made!' I chuckle at the last bit.

'I'm not as paranoid as I used to be,' I say, 'I've gotten alot better.'

Link laughs in disbelief. 'Paranoia? That's not you. You aren't afraid of anyone.'

'When I first came here, I expected every customer to kill me. I had an escape plan laid out in my head everytime someone pulled in. It was worse when I was in the bakery and your mom was in the store. These fantasies in my head involved saving everyone, but in certain situations, I couldn't see how I could do that.'

Link just looks sad. 'Nothing ever happened.'

'No,' I reply, 'but the mental anguish was real and you've no idea how much that anguish hurt.'

I tear up briefly but stuff those tears back in where they belong.

Link leans back in his chair and I can see him trying to compose a question.

'You say you have good days and bad days and you seem to have more good than bad so doesn't that mean you're getting better?'

'I once read something that said when you have depression, you have neither good or bad, it just is. But me personally, I have good, meh, and bad. I count my good days and am thankful for every single one. Depression is a mental illness. It's a disease. It can destroy you. So I try my best to be conscious of my choices and how they feed my disease.'

I pause and gather my thoughts. ' I avoid people who bring me down or make me angry because that is not good for my mental health. I choose food that is proven to help depression like citrus and fruit. I leave the windows open all day and night because fresh air makes me feel good and clean. I avoid any unpleasant situation that can be easily avoided. I keep to my little group of safe people. I've built a world and place where I feel safe, where I can heal. Do I think one day I'll wake up and depression will be a faded memory? No. There are certain demons I'll always face and depression is one. But I can be conscious of it and counteract it.

I own my depression and it will never own me.."

'I'm sad and angry that you feel this way and there's nothing to stop it. It's wrong and not fair.' Link's fists clench and unclench. 'But I'm glad you talk to me about it and maybe I can't understand everything but at least you will never face this alone.'

'I feel that way sometimes. I feel trapped on the opposite side of a glass wall. It's really lonely.'

Link takes my hand and says, 'Never will you ever be alone. You're very strong.'

'I don't feel strong.' I reply.

He simply nods his head because he knows there's no reasoning to be had there.

It's in these moments, I break a crack into that glass wall and a part of me that is so inaccessible becomes a little more human like and a little bit less like a scary monster.

And I'll keep going and I'll keep trying because these moments with Link remind me that there's much more to be had.


"Getting better from depression demands a lifelong commitment. I've made that commitment for my life's sake and for the sake of those who love me." — Susan Polis Schutz

May the frets be with you.

Fat Shaming, Self Proclaiming

For my entire life I've struggled with positive body image. As a teenager, I saw myself as inferior and ugly in comparison to the other girls my age who rocked short shorts and belly button tops. Girls who could 'get away with it' and 'pull it off'.

I pretend I've beaten my skewed view and that I am confident in the person I am today. At least, I really believed I'd moved on and accepted positive body power. That is, until last weekend.

My husband and I are huge Nerds and one of our favorite pastimes is going to the medieval faire when it's in town. We do the whole shebang - costumes, back stories, accents. We have it down pat.

This year we were accompanied by my friend, Opal. Each weekend features a different theme and last weekend was time travel/steampunk. Being the dedicated fans we are, Opal and I went full on Doctor Who. I was the 10th doctor (insert romantic sigh here) and Opal was my Tardis.

The day started off wonderful and we were waved at and recognized. Things took a downward turn though, as Opal and I seperated from my Jedi Knight. As we were walking down the path, we heard one of the faire folk yelling at us. We thought he was complimenting our costumes, but once we got closer we heard him shout:

'You two need to switch costumes!' He shouted.
'Why?' Opal asked.
'Because,' He said gesturing my way, 'She's bigger than you and would make a better box.'

We were flabbergasted that he would say something like that. I shrugged it off and said it was whatever, but it bothered me. Obviously it bothered me enough because here I am writing about it.

That's not the first time I'd felt humiliated about my size. A few years earlier when I had just started going to the faire with Link, we met up some of his friends and as we were walking I heard them whispering 'Why is he with her? She's so much bigger than he is.'

After the box comment, the rest of the day was ruined and I fought back tears and I stood there feeling stupid for even trying to be cool. All I wanted was to hide.

I know some of you are probably thinking 'you can't let it bother you, it shouldn't matter'. You're right. It shouldn't matter. But it does because my size has been used to make me feel bad and guilty.

And I realized, I body shame myself. I catch myself saying things like:

'You wouldn't know it now, but I used to be thin'

'I can't wear long boots because my legs are too fat'

'Don't mind me, I'm a fatty mcfat-fat'

And I sit there clutching a pillow to my stomach so I hope no one will notice the way my tummy rolls when I sit down.

Yes, I am fat. I'm not unhealthy, I'm just chubby. I've got extra on my tummy that I've been trying for years to make disappear. I live with a body that has been used and abused for years due to my unhealthy mental perception of myself.

But the truth is, even when I was smaller, I still perceived myself as overweight and unattractive.

The reason I can't wear long boots is because my calves are thick due to heritage and my legs are strong and muscular. They are stronger than my husband's legs, and he is a fit man. But because they are thicker, I perceive them as fat and therefore undesirable.

The box comment was a huge blow to my self esteem and the time and effort I have put into changing the way I view myself.

When it really comes down to it, why does it matter if I'm bigger or smaller on the outside in comparison to others?

Shouldn't what's inside matter most? That my love is bigger than prejudice and hate? That my honor is bigger than manipulation and lies? That my intelligence is stronger than click bait sensationalism and media driven propaganda?

That my strength is bigger than these negative comments that both myself and others tell me?

I used to kid myself that if I was thinner, I'd be happier.

Happiness is not quantified by body mass.

I have so much more to offer this place than just my body fat.

How about happy mcjoy-joy instead of fatty mcfat-fat?

Maybe?

(And yes, I'd make a pretty awesome Tardis because I'm a pretty awesome fan)

May the frets be with you.