Penises are great. They do great things. However, there is a colloquial expression where you refer to people who you don’t like as “dicks.” I’m here to tell you that depression is fucking dick. Depression is a dickhead or a dick, depending on how you feel in a given moment. When I call depression a dick, what I’m saying is that I don’t like the way that I feel when I’m depressed. Depression doesn’t care that it’s hurting you, it doesn’t mind that it’s leaving you feeling powerless laying in bed crying angrily, frustrated that you can’t fix yourself; upset that your problems are out of your control. Being afraid to call your therapist because you don’t want to “bother anyone.” You don’t want to speak to your friends because you feel that they “won’t get it” or they’ll “judge you.”

I feel all of those things right now. I don’t want to tell my friends what going on because I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of telling people that I’m down and them feeling like they need to “fix it.” Depression isn’t “fixable.” It’s something that you have to ride out, that I need to ride it out. I’m forgetful, I have virtually no appetite, I don’t want to see people, but I am forcing myself to eat, see my friends, let people know how I’m feeling and help myself. I tell myself every day that I am a good person, I try my best, I do the things that are necessary to live my best life. It’s a battle that I fight frequently. Like now, for example, I am crying and I don’t really know why. I accept that. I am here now, working through my feelings, riding those waves, like that time I felt all my feelings during a panic attack. I figured out how to deal with them, and now I know that I can handle a panic attack. I can work through anything that I experience emotionally.

I worry that my friends will get tired of me feeling depressed. I asked my psychiatrist how long I would be depressed for. He said “four days and 31 hours.” And I laughed because I knew what he was trying to say. “I wish I could tell you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry you are suffering, but I promise it’s going to get better.” He’s right about it getting better. In my experience it always gets better, it just takes time. I am doing one thing at a time and being extremely patient with myself. At this point, that’s all I can do.

There are times when I can’t imagine it getting better. There are moments where I’m suffering, crying, trying to find a logical reason why I feel down. There is no logic when it comes to emotions. I am an empath and I want to help my friends feel better, and yet it’s challenging for me to help myself.

More than anything, I am not giving up hope. There is always light at the end of the depression tunnel.