Brandy Goff
Guest Blogger
I’m not ashamed of my depression, but it’s not something I ever imagined myself telling many people about… until one of my best friends asked me if I’d want to write a blog for WhiteFlag. I figured “why not?” I can write about some feelings, experiences, thoughts, and whatever else and just get it done in about an hour or two.
Well… I was wrong. It’s been 2 days of me trying to figure out what to even write about.
Do I write about the time I came very close to attempting suicide? How my amazing dog saved me from that attempt? (like literally somehow busted through my bathroom door as I had the pills in my hand). The constant feeling of wanting it all to stop? The time I tore up my arm with a knife just so I could feel anything besides numb? The mask I wear everyday so I don’t feel like a burden to anyone who asks how I’m doing? The fact I can’t text my mom “I love you” without her being scared that it’s my “goodbye” text?
They aren’t just “feelings, experiences, thoughts, and whatever else.”
They are a part of who I am.
There is so much to unpack with my depression… but I think one thing that I can write about that a lot of people can understand and resonate with is feeling like sometimes you’re just faking it through life. Waking up every day and immediately putting on that mask. Not even giving yourself a moment to feel who you really are.
I put my mask on every day and go to work, sit through meetings, talk to people all day long, and very rarely does anyone ever suspect anything is wrong. Meanwhile… at work, during the meetings, while talking to people, all I can think about is how I can’t wait to go home and rip off my mask and go straight to bed. Wearing the mask is EXHAUSTING. Putting on that happy face for everyone is so much damn work. And it’s weird because I don’t wear the mask so I don’t have to talk about my depression or so I can just get through the day… I wear it because I don’t want anyone to have to listen to the horrible thoughts that go through my mind throughout the day. I don’t want to put my depression on anyone. I don’t want anyone to feel that burden. I don’t even talk to my family about my depression that much because I don’t want them hearing their little girl or little sister say that there are so many times where I just want it all to stop. And I don’t necessarily mean I want to kill myself when I say that. But I want it all to stop. The thoughts. The negativity. The pure exhaustion from just simply existing. How do you say that to your parents or brother when you know it would break their hearts? My parents, step parents, siblings, family and friends are all very much there for me through my depression. And I know that and love them for it, but I still want to protect them from it. If I can’t protect myself, I at least want to protect them ya know?
I wear the mask to try and shield the people that I love from my depression… but what happens when you get too good at wearing the mask? When you feel like you have to wear the mask simply just to exist…
A few months ago, I went to a concert with some friends and had a great time. The minute the concert was over I felt the rush of numbness come over my body. I was so upset because I was having such an amazing time literally 5 seconds ago. How does it even happen that quickly?
I decided to push through and continue to go out with my friends. We went to a few different bars, had some drinks, met up with a few more friends, then it was time to go home.
Seems like a normal night, right? Nope. Not for me. I knew it was going to be a rough night just by how I felt after the concert.
When I got home I cuddled my dog and just held onto him while I sobbed. Not even sure what I was crying for other than the fact that I felt nothing. Even holding my dog, I didn’t feel anything. That’s never happened before. Obviously, I love him, he’s my whole world. But that night was different. I felt nothing. It was making me so anxious and I felt like I was losing my mind. I needed to feel something. I HAD to feel something.
I went to my kitchen and grabbed a knife. I sat on the floor and just started going to town on my arm. I could barely see through all the tears but when I finally blinked and the tears dropped, I saw the blood. I immediately froze. Eventually I got up, grabbed a towel, wrapped my arm up and went and sat on my bed. Through all the years of my depression I had never hurt myself… until that moment. I had never felt so lost in my life. This brought on an entirely different feeling of depression for me. After crying myself to sleep, I woke up the next morning and when I looked down at my arm I felt such a sense of shame and guilt. I couldn’t believe I did that to myself. All I wanted was to feel something… and it worked. I felt worse than I ever had in my life.
The next day I went into work and so many people told me I looked so happy the night before and like I was having so much fun. They said it really looked like I was living my best life.
That was the moment I realized the mask had to come off. I wore it so well that people thought I was having the best day of my life, when in truth, I went home and self-harmed because I couldn’t feel a fucking thing.
The weeks following were hard. My emotions were all over the place. I was in a depressive episode, hit a new level in the game with self-harm, was trying to let go of the guilt and shame I felt, while still trying to love myself through it all... I didn’t think I was going to make it.
For weeks, I’d sit and hold my arm at night and just apologize to myself over and over again until I’d fall asleep.
Eventually I texted my friend Kyleigh and told her what I did. I knew she would understand and help me navigate through this in a way that a lot of people wouldn’t be able to. She also suffers from depression and is someone I heavily lean on when I don’t know which way is up anymore. She talked to me in a way that didn’t make me feel like I messed up or like I did a bad thing. She told me she had done the same thing before, for the same reason. She talked to me with so much compassion and understanding and helped me make sense of everything that I was feeling. She helped me more than she realized. She made me feel a little less alone in that moment.
I told a few more of my close friends and their support and understanding played a pivotal role in not only me getting back to myself, but also in forgiving myself.
Getting through these past few months has been tough to say the least. What helped the most though was taking off that god damn mask and letting my depressed ass be exactly who I needed to be while I got through this intense part of my life. It was time to put myself first.
I am still trying to figure out my depression. I always will be. I remember writing in my journal one time that I feel like my depression is one thing in my life that I can always count on. One thing that will always come back to me. Time and time again. Without fail. It is a constant in my life. It’s exhausting and terrifying. But I am trying. Everyday. Constantly trying to take off the mask and let myself feel all the raw emotions that I try so hard to hide. Trying to put myself first for a change. Trying to survive.
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