Little me didn’t get to be middle brother

I have two older brothers, one is 5 years older than me and he is the “I wish I was just like him” brother, the other is 7 years older than me, and he is the “I am more like him then I admit out loud” brother.  I love my brothers, when I was little I think because of the age difference we just didn’t interact as much as I would have liked. Though honestly with how much I followed middle brother around trying to be him, I guess we could have been closer.  Middle brother was everything I wanted to be, sporty, funny, tough, smart, and awesome! I knew if I was annoying enough, and persistent enough I could be accepted by him and his friends. I mean really who doesn’t want to be friends with their annoying little sister?!

I spent much of my childhood aspiring to be middle brother. Sometimes I started fights just to be noticed by middle brother. That never ended well since middle brother was bigger, older, and more cunning than I! It is funny to me that some of my most vivid childhood memories are of me being a creepy little sister stalker. I stole his clothes, tried to talk like him, and looked up to him from the moment I can remember. The first Depression memory I can place is actually while following him around.

We had gotten massive rains and our back yard and the woods and creek behind our house were flooded. Middle brother and a few of his friends got a kayak or canoe and went out in the flood waters. I was watching from the family room window, and all I could think was “That is way too much work, but I bet he will remember that forever.” I knew that the effort to make memories with people, even then, was too much. I’ve spent much of my life feeling that way. I also didn’t ask to participate with middle brother anymore, I knew he mostly didn’t notice me, and really didn’t want his little sister around getting in the way of things. He said something to me recently that resonated, he mostly didn’t notice me.

I’ve felt that way for so long. Not noticed. Like I am jumping up and down under spot lights wondering what in the world I have to do to get people to see ME; which is funny considering I spend much of my energy day to day trying to HIDE me. It starts a pretty crazy cognitive dissonance for me, this idea that I want people to notice me while I actively try to hide who I am.

Little me didn’t get to be middle brother…


World Suicide Prevention Day

I have the BIG D. Depression. I do not talk about it. EVER. To anyone. My depression is not the valid Big Sad, of that person you know whose life is just so tragic. They have every reason to be sad. In fact my depression isn’t sadness, I am not sad. I don’t even think I remember what sad feels like. My Depression is a big nothing. It’s a huge grayness that just settles on top of everything. Nothing leaves, it is just all gray. I wrote words in my journal today, on World Suicide Prevention Day, that actually scared me. Okay, scared is a strong word, but they shook me. I wrote “How can I be a better me when most days I have trouble just existing?” That is what my Depression is to me.

The worst part of my Depression to me is that I have not a single reason to be depressed. I have amazing friends and family, they love me, they worry about me, and they are absolutely amazing. My life isn’t a tragic story. I am not broken, but see, I am.  My Depression makes me feel not worthy of being depressed. I feel like even talking about it will let people know that I just don’t deserve to feel like this.

I thought about suicide once. Actually had a plan, and I asked for help. I was a sophomore in high school and a friend of mine died in a car accident, they day after I found out my Grandfather went into the hospital with the same thing that killed my grandmother. That day at school my best friend called me out for being a big dumb stupid teenage girl and stopped being my friend. I was a mess, and I didn’t know what to do. Mrs. Brandon, my history teacher saved me. I told her I didn’t know what to do with all the huge, messy, and horrible emotions I was feeling. She got me help. I got better, or as better as I was able to. It’s been almost 15 years since that happened, half a lifetime away for me. Time flies.

People care.

People out there know how you feel.

Depression lies, ALL the time. (Thank you Wil Wheaton)

I have health problems that suck, sometimes I use that as a cover for my depression, but they aren’t the cause of my depression. I was depressed before I was sick, and honestly its hard for me to pinpoint when my depression started. When I got hurt, and got sick… shrug… it just got worse. I have epilepsy. I was in a car accident that caused a traumatic brain injury. I am Depressed. I don’t think I have ever said those words out loud before, but I am writing them here today with hope. I chose to hope that not only can my depression can get better, but that I can help someone else who might not know they need it.

My life seems like a huge jumble of things I didn’t do! Things that both I am eternally grateful to NOT have done, and things that I think I should have done. I am starting this blog to put some of those things into words. I hope someone out there is helped by knowing they aren’t alone.  I also want to say there is more help out there.  Please talk to someone, anyone.  You are not alone.