Certifiable

Depression. It’s what my doctor calls it. Weakness. Lies. Laziness. Others have called it these things. I have been depressed since I can remember. Each day I am sad, impulsive, tired and weak. I am trapped in a body with limitations. My better judgment arrested. My heart vulnerable.

My mind is convinced that these limitations are of my own doing. I can overcome them if I try hard enough, it says. Do more, act happier; be more dedicated, it commands. I try and try.
My body laughs at my mind for thinking such foolishness. There is nothing I can do to overcome the depression. It weighs me down like a two ton anchor. It lassos my brain and chokes it. I cannot reason the depression away. I cannot will it to end.

I see doctors. More doctors than I care to admit. I pray that the next one will know what to do. They are kind, honest people, who cannot help me. I hope for a magic drug that will restore me to a proper and functioning adult. I hope and hope.

No one believes me. Not my husband. Certainly not my bosses. Not my friends. Sometimes not even myself. No one knows how desperate I am to be believed. To be cared for instead of criticized.

I have children. Beautiful, lively, innocent children. I want to be more for them. I want to offer them all I had as a child. But, at times I am trapped, too burdened, even for them. My body is gelatin. My energy drained. So, I watch them play. I hire help. It is not enough.

I am left to wonder: will they know this illness, too? I pray not. The thought haunts me. Do these genes course through their veins? I pray and pray.