Just would like to clear something up.

You can “be depressed” but not suffer from depression.

Perhaps a loved one passed away ; for weeks you stayed in bed — never finding the strength to get up and live your day. But eventually you found the light and the darkness slowly disperses and you’ve found yourself clean, clothed and enjoying dinner with some friends. It’s over.

That’s great, but it’s never over for me, or others, or the one’s we’ve already lost.

For me, no one has died. I’m privileged. I have a job. I have four walls and a roof. A car. I’m in a loving, committed, long-term relationship. I have friends and family who love me. I eat delicious food every day.

And still, just last week, I wasted away in my bed watching Netflix, not sleeping, tears trickling from the corners and wondering why the fuck I was alive. Why the hell am I here. Who truly needs me? What’s the point? And how would I take my own life? Hanging seems fairly popular. Maybe jumping off of a high-rise building? You’d get the endorphins from the adrenaline before you hit the ground and died on impact; it’s probably painless.

I’m sorry for your loss. I am. But I lose someone every day and they’re not even gone.

Thanks for listening,

jwb

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