WHEN DEPRESSION MAKES YOU AN ASS…

I never thought of myself as a selfish asshole. But as it turns out, I’m not nearly the drum-beating, baby-kissing princess I thought I was…

My friend Hannah invited me over to her house for dinner on Saturday night. Since all cards are on the table, I wasn’t looking forward to it. Hannah has been driving me nuts lately. Everything that occurs in her life, happens to her.

When her teenage daughter returned home drunk, she threatened homeschooling and put me through the soul-numbing process of reading everything there is not read on the subject. When she got stung by a bee, she was dying. When her tire burst on the way home, her life was falling apart. When gossip circulated about her at work (that she didn’t like the newly appointed boss…I mean puh-leaze!), she was going to resign and move another part of the country…

Saturday night was the last straw for me. She suffered ‘debilitating fatigue’ and basically waited at the door with my handbag, as if to say: f*** off, please and thank you!

That was going to be the end of us…

But today things changed and I’m ashamed. Ashamed that I climbed out of the pit of depression…that I clawed my way out of that hole and scraped the mud from my nails without looking back. Today my friend Hannah’s last set of legs gave out from under her and I realized that my friend has depression…in a big way.

She was there when everyone I love died. She rubbed my back patiently; she listened to the diatribes; she bought banana muffin after banana muffin. She remained lovingly by my side even when I screamed at her. She knew. She knew that grief and depression morphed me into something else and she was patient in waiting for me to crawl out to the sunlight.

And now that she has fallen apart I regret not noticing the signs sooner. I have grown so used to being the one with the sadness in my life that I’ve grown inward in my perspective and awareness.

I never used to be so egocentric. But I guess part of recovering from depression is that one must relearn sensitivity to others and tolerance for what may be other people’s pain.

And maybe that is part of what makes me feel lonely sometimes. I’ve grown used to worrying about myself…

But now that I know I have others to worry about, I’m going to make damn sure I share my chococino…

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