The Crosses we bear

Life path, The Self


A few days ago, I felt like I was on the verge of depression again. I’ve had major depressive episodes in the past and despite my best efforts to “wipe it off for good” it kept on coming back. That expectation – that I can wipe it away forever – only makes it worse. I feel like a failure every time it comes back.

I would go back to my toxic cycle of interrogating myself: Why am I depressive? Why can’t I simply be like those people who seem to just roll through in life? Why do I feel so much? Why do I think so much? Why do I give so much importance to almost every single thing when other people can afford not to care? Am I ever gonna live without depression? Is it just part of my identity? And if it is, does it mean I am fucked up? Maybe I’m just an ungrateful kid? Why can’t I just focus on the bright side and religiously keep a gratitude journal? Maybe that’s gonna solve my problems?

It already sucks to be depressed. But beating ourselves up because we’re depressed is just…hell.

Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe some burdens are simply chronic. Maybe we just gotta learn how to live with them. Maybe it’s true that each of us has a cross to bear. Maybe depression is my cross.

I’m not romanticizing depression, but there’s a part of me that believes there is something good about it. I am depressive partly because I am sensitive, I am reflective and I care. It’s probably partly because of my upbringing, my genes, my sex, my nationality, where I live and how my life has been. Would I change any of these things if it means wiping out my tendency to be depressed? I don’t think so. I can’t do that. I won’t wanna do that. Doing so would mean I’d have a different family, friends, skills and different experiences in life.

Maybe to avoid feeling so defeated, maybe I just gotta accept my cross and learn how to live with it. Maybe this is also a part of accepting myself. Maybe by learning how to trust my cross, I’d learn how to trust my path more. Maybe with that trust I can turn this burden into my armor and a source of love and compassion.

Maybe through my struggle with thoughts of wanting to die, I’d find my own will to live.



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