As not so subtly hinted in my previous post, some of you have rightfully guessed what I am currently going through: I was diagnosed with major depression disorder. Yes. I said it. I am mentally ill. Let’s make it clear: I don’t “feel depressed” — I have clinical depression. It is a very important distinction to make, and if you don’t know what the difference is, I invite you to look it up by yourself.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to put this in writing, but one thing is for sure: I do not intend to hide it (nor do I want to have it tattooed on my forehead, I am not that crazy). The thing is that there is some sort of social stigma surrounding depression, and mental illness in general, especially when it happens to men. Because men are supposed to be strong, they’re not supposed to be vulnerable, they’re not supposed to cry.
Well, here I am: I have weaknesses, and I can feel sad to he point of having tears roll down my cheeks. I am human. Men too do have emotions.
I remember using my blog in the early 2000s, as a therapeutic way to cope with the stress and hardships related to immigration, especially when trying to adjust to Quebec society in which I felt I would never be able to fit. It did help me reflect upon myself and my attempts at adapting to a totally new environment.
Why not do it again, then, at a time when I am in dire need of understanding what is going through my mind and my broken soul? I have no idea how far I am ready to go with writing publicly about things that are very intimate and personal. Don’t hold your breath, though: there will not be any ground-breaking revelation; it will most likely just end up being a collection of meaningless thoughts from a lost mind…
You will also have noticed that I seem to have completely switched to English (for now). There is good reason for that. English is not my first language, therefore it requires some effort on my part, preventing me from writing things on the spur of the moment, which I may regret later. But most of all: it adds a translation layer that creates a distance between my words and my mind, and acts as an emotional buffer space. French would be too close to my actual thought process, and I fear it may be damaging emotionally.
So here we go:
Once upon a time…
1 reactions
1 From mimi du Canada - 08/02/2012, 14:50
Tu me permettras d’écrire en français car je veux trouver les mots justes mais tu peux me répondre en anglais. Bravo pour le courage d’avoir écrit cela, la dépression est taboue et encore plus, oui comme tu le dis pour les hommes. Tu sais, je vais prendre des anti-dépresseurs toute ma vie, je n’ai pas été diagnostiquée officiellement comme toi, avec une dépression chronique, mais je deale avec la dépression, ses hauts et ses bas depuis des années.
Et oui il faut avoir vécu cela pour comprendre ce que l’autre peut ressentir. On peut se voir ou se parler quand tu le veux, si tu le veux. Nos conjoints pourront échanger aussi sur le sujet car ce n’est pas facile d’aider l’autre quand on a pas connu cette maladie, maladie que je ne leur souhaite pas bien sûr.
Je vous embrasse tous les deux, et elle peut m’écrire aussi si elle veut.
(certaines pages de ce site peuvent aider : http://www.info-depression.fr/, je ne sais plus lesquelles, je chercherais si vous voulez, là je suis au boulot je dois répondre vite).