As a depressed person, I really am the Masked Avenger. I feel for everyone around me, or in the community, or in the world. My heart breaks for anyone else in pain because I understand it so well. I try to help them even though I cannot help myself. But I have to get through the day and put on the smiles in case someone looks at me so it can seem like I am oh, so, cavalier.
I stick up for the underdog, I always have. But when you are the highly sensitive underdog, you see how much of the world only recognizes the top dogs. I want to right wrongs and create justice where it does not exist. But the first place is in my own environment where people know my feelings are hurt and the sadness that exists. Silly me, communication is supposed to create understanding. Well, it only created an opportunity to stick the knife even deeper and see what it takes to draw complete defeat for me.
This cannot be why I was put on Earth. There has to be more than just pain and stigma and crappy treatment. There have to be other people who understand how it feels to try to blink away the prick in your eyes that brings tears to the edge. The feelings and the sensitivity that brings me to the edge. The more I want understanding, the less I see. Trouble is, I feel the pain and that is part of the challenge. It is also the victory for those who remind you of how little you matter and that your presence is not required or desired.
I don’t drink or smoke because I don’t want to mess up the treatment, or what is supposed to be the cure for what ails me. But I really understand why people are driven to it, trying to create an escape and a way out. Sometimes the pain is so bad and the heart is too broken to cheer itself up.
But I am really struggling to get through the nightly parade of negative thoughts and the make-believe to get up and do it all again tomorrow.