I attended a party the Sunday before Christmas. I really wasn’t feeling up for it but pushed myself to go. There were people I wanted to see. I thought it would be okay. You know those commercials selling anti-depressants where a woman is walking around holding up a paper plate with a drawn-on smiley face? Apparently, I didn’t have the energy to hold up my mine.
I thought that I was doing a pretty good job. I was really trying. I showed up and that took a lot. I was trying to be part of something I would be sorry to miss out on. But later someone told me that I looked so small. I wondered if others noticed the same? Were they all talking about me? Did they comment on how I looked, what I said, or how I acted? My mind was going down “that” path. I wanted to keep on walking until I was out of their sight and mine.
Experiences like this help me consider when it’s good for me to accept an invitation or stay home and to feel okay about that decision. Sometimes being around others or in different settings can lighten my heart and be just what I need to come out of the funk. But other times when what I’m carrying around is just so profound and painful, I can’t simply leave it at home. The challenge is knowing whether I am depressed by something that’s going on in my life or when the depression is me. I read and reread that line. And yes, that’s what I mean. The clinical depression for me cannot be separated when I’m in an episode. I can’t leave it behind.
I’m not a good liar. You might think that would be a good option where social graces are concerned, but I cannot fib and say that I’m “fine” when I’m not. I think it’s one of those peculiar things associated with my OCD. It just doesn’t feel right to lie and faking seems a bit like one. When I’m in one of those places, I can’t step out of my home and try to engage in normal conversation. Heck, I can’t even bring myself to type a text or make a call. I just don’t have the energy. The truth is that I can’t fake fine. It’s so consuming that even when I try to do my “gratitude” list in my head to remind me of all I have, it hurts.
Pretending is so exhausting. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay home and be unseen.
How have you had to pretend when you were hurting so you didn’t have to explain yourself, avoid awkward questions, or something else?
#burden #depression #pretending
