Hello darkness, my old friend

I’ve been quiet the past month largely because I’ve been struggling with depression. There, I said it. I have hesitated to publicly acknowledge this. It feels like depression is a topic people don’t want to hear about, especially during the holiday season. After all, who wants their holiday cheer disrupted by someone’s dark cloud? At least, that’s how it feels. You look around and everyone else seems to be enjoying the season, spending time with family and loved ones, and there you are, struggling day by day to keep going.

I have hesitated to share about this as well because, frankly, it’s not how I want people to perceive me. I don’t want to be thought of as the woman who struggles at times with depression. I want to be seen as a strong, confident, successful woman who is actively creating and transforming her life. I am those things. I am also someone who finds herself depressed at times. They are not mutually exclusive. I would not want to be defined by this one aspect of my life. Neither do I want to pretend that it doesn’t exist. This is, after all, a blog in which I have strived to practice vulnerability.

Depression is still loaded with a lot of stigma and shame. I see so many memes and comments on social media that instruct us to just adopt a positive mindset and all will be well. If only it were that easy. Those who have not dealt with depression really have no clue what it’s like to live under the grey heaviness that settles on you – at least that’s how depression feels to me. It’s not that everything is bad, necessarily. But even the good things in life become shrouded in a fog.

The holiday season has been particularly difficult for me, prompting the spiral into depression. I have felt rather isolated and alone. Yes, I have family nearby and yes, I did spend time with them, for which I am thankful. But the dynamic with them is a difficult one for me, for complex reasons. I love them, and I believe they love me, but despite that I do feel like the odd one out much of the time; the single, divorced, queer transgender family member whom everyone (mostly) is trying to accept but whom no one can really understand. They have a lifetime of seeing me as someone else and are still coming to terms with who I am.

Which is a key reason I lean heavily on my friends. They may not understand my exact experience, but they only know me as me. They do not have to navigate, or replace, an old lens. But my friends have busy lives, and families, and during the holiday period they become intensely focused on that and their holiday activities. It feels like I become invisible. I remind myself, frequently, that this is just a perception and not reflective of the relationships, but it is something I feel. Since one of my primary means of self-care is to spend time with friends, their absence becomes particularly acute when I’m in a season of depression.

Mixed in with all this is the societal narrative that our happiness is tied up with having a spouse, partner or significant other to spend the holidays (and life in general) with. The holidays are promoted as a time to spend with the one you love, or perhaps those you love. But what do you do when those you love are your friends, who have their own spouses, partners and loved ones with whom they will spend the holidays? Where does that leave us single people? I don’t think I’m the only single person who feels like she fades into the background during this season, though maybe I am. I’m still coming to terms with singleness. I acknowledge that. It has not been easy for me, and the holiday season has made it particularly difficult.

I appreciate those who have made time and space for me during this season. I don’t usually name people, but today I want to single out Brenna and Vi, who invited me to join them on a walk to look at Christmas lights. And Christine, who invited me to join her family on Christmas Eve and with whom I spent a lovely evening on New Year’s Day. I think also of Magda, and Leslie, who’ve allowed me to cry on their shoulders, either literally or figuratively. And Chandra, whose crazy life as a med student kept us from getting together for months until last week. You all have provided vital light in a difficult season and I deeply appreciate you.

I don’t think I’m the only one who struggles with depression, particularly during the holiday season. I suspect that many others, like myself, chose to suffer in silence because they don’t feel they can interrupt the holiday cheer. I want to change that narrative. I hope that by sharing my own struggle others might find encouragement in theirs. You are not alone, even if you feel you are. And if you need to reach out to someone, I’d be glad to make space for you.

Happy New Year. May there be light in your darkness and may you be wrapped in love.