The Fruitless Battle...

My depression is an "it." An "other." Oh, "it's" connected to me, inside of me, always with me. But I don't see it as a part of me. [I will discuss how fruitless and bad for my mental health this is a bit later on...] The depression is a shadow, a leech that sucks on my emotions and my mental state. But I can't seem to accept "it" as a part of who I am. I fight "it" with every ounce of my being. I will "it" to leave me alone, to pass me by this year, to not put me through the torture all over again. I try to find a way to convince myself that I will someday "win" this fight - and that victory will ensure that the depression will never reture again.

Somehow - acceptance (true and full acceptance) of my depression spells defeat to me. It implies that I have lost, that the depression has beaten me, that I must submit to "its" will as a part of the terms of my defeat. And I, being the stubborn person that I am, cannot allow that to happen. I must be victorious. I must show "it" that "it" can't get the better of me.

This fight, battle, war, personal vendetta - whatever you want to call it - is so pointless. There is nothing to fight. No matter how har I mentally kick and scream, the depression is there, will always be there. Not as a separate entity and enemy, but as a part of what makes me ME. A definition of who I am can never claim to be complete without the depression. The depression isn't an "it" - it's "me."

I often find myself - catch myself - thinking that the "real me" hibernates in the winter and is replaced by a lesser copy of "me" wearing this mask of depression. When I "shed the mask" in the springtime, the true me shows her face once again. Do we see how silly this is? I'm always the "real me." I don't go anywhere. I feel different in the wintertime, yes, but it's still ME. I'm not hidden behind a mask - I'm not hibernating - I'm always ME.

What's funny is that the perception that my true self is hidden by the depression each winter actually gives the depression the victory points in this "battle." I fight with "it." Accepting "it" as "me" would give me the victory because "it" wouldn't be successful in taking me over every winter.

The ultimate paradox: Accepting the depression means I've lost my battle against "it." Accepting the depression would mean I have won the battle because "it" would not have gotten the best of me.