Depression doesn’t discriminate

Depression doesn’t discriminate; it doesn’t give a fuck about the color of your skin or how much money you have or who your friends are ( if you even have friends at all)  Depression doesn’t care if you are a man or a woman or a child  or  you speak another language or you’re mute or if you’re like me ;talk a mile a blind. Depression doesn’t care if you’re straight or gay or transgender or have no preference at all. Depression gives zero shits if you are a democrat or republican or a socialist hippy atheist living on welfare. Depression doesn’t care if your employed; unemployed; living on the street or a yacht.  Depression doesn’t have a look; the happiest guy in the room could be battling depression every day and you’d never know it.

No one is immune from depression and it is not your fault; it isn’t a character flaw; it’s a chemical imbalance and no one asked to get this. That being said you can take steps to manage your depression; meds and therapy are a start. Reaching out to others when you are lonely is another wonderful way. Writing is a perfect example of getting your feelings out. Taking care of your body ( exercise exercise exercise!) will in turn help your mind and calm some of that anxious energy ( it works, i know)  Depression sucks and I say all this because I suffer from it and I hope by being open about my depression I can help others.  I hope that I can show people that by ending the stigma of depression; we can get the support we so desperately need and hopefully gain some understanding from others. Because damn is my depression back and damn do I feel lonely.  I say all of these things to myself because it makes me feel better and the best way to express my feelings is to write, you know; sometimes it’s the only tool I have.  As I said earlier depression is terrible but I don’t have to let it control me. And I hope someone reading this takes comfort in the fact they are not alone; we can get through this.

Good night,

Davie

Basketball days

Image result for school yard hoops

 

As I was taking a walk I heard the sound of kids playing basketball in their driveway;it took me back to a different time and place when I was about 11 or 12 and playing basketball in my own driveway; often by myself. Other times I would spend hours playing hoops with my friends; cooling off at the pool; taking a rest and a meal; going back to the school across from the pool to play more basketball into the night. Something about hearing the bouncing of the ball just now; sparked a memory in me. I saw myself all those years ago; not wanting it to get dark because it meant we had to go home; feeling I was part of the group and how innocent those days seemed to be. Now I am an adult and so are they; I no longer live there and I’m sure they have moved elsewhere as well. Maybe they have kids of their own; maybe they’re shooting baskets with them right now and having as much fun as we did. Time is a funny thing; you have these memories that seemed insignificant and forgettable and yet it took the sound of a basketball and the swishing of a net to bring it all back as if it happened yesterday.

*Written while taken a walk; just before dark