I’m depressed.

I know that doesn’t sound like a monumental statement, especially here on RealMental, but for me, it is.

I’m depressed.

It’s not like I haven’t been depressed before. I’ve certainly been more depressed than I am now. I’ve been suicidal depressed, wanting to scream my head off depressed, crying, crying, crying hard everyday for weeks and weeks depressed, and wanting to hurt myself just so the pain could be physical instead of inside my head depressed.

But each one of those times, I could point to something that made me feel that way. Coming to terms with childhood sexual abuse. Someone whom I loved and trusted betraying my trust and breaking my heart. My mother trying to kill herself. Being in an extremely abusive workplace that was stifling my soul, my body, my mind. There was always a reason, and usually a very good one.

Not this time. I’m…just depressed.

There isn’t a reason. My life is really great by anyone’s standards. I am smart. I have an education. I have a job that I’m good at, with nice people who appreciate what I do and support me and believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. I have incredible friends who love me. I have a soul mate who worships me, whom I adore, and who is actually moving here to be with me. I have a house and a car and a dog and two cats who like to cuddle. I have debt that’s manageable. I’m cute. I’m funny. And I know how to write.

What more could you want?

Maybe to be not depressed?

In the past, I could always point to what was going on and say, “Anyone who found themselves in this situation would be depressed.” I even had therapists say those very words to me. There was always a reason, an excuse, something to explain it all away, something external.

And now, there’s nothing. The only reason left is that I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. That I need to take drugs. Because there’s nothing more I can change about my life. I’ve quit all the extra activities that seemed to be draining my energy. I’ve cut all the negative, poisonous, judgemental and passive aggressive people out of my life. I even turned down a promotion because I was concerned about what the extra stress would do to me.

But none of that made a real difference. It didn’t pull me out of the depths. It just left me treading water. Barely keeping my head above the waves.

And so, I put my faith in this drug. This little white pill that I’m hoping can help me swim. And I wait for it to start working.

Because that’s all I can do.