I’ve lost my boot-straps, can I borrow yours?

I know this will be one more post in a sea of news stories and articles on depression and mental illness. But, with the untimely death of Robin Williams and with what I have been going through personally, I feel like it is the right moment to write something.

Let’s take a closer look at this bitch…


Depression- a state of low mood and aversion to activity that can affect a person’s thoughts, behavior, feelings and sense of well-being.

That description is so abstract. There is no way an non-afflicted person can imagine what depression feels like by reading that. Which is probably why you get so many people talking about “snapping out of it” or something, something boot-straps. Which as we know, does nothing for the sufferer. I’ve lost my boot-straps, what the hell are boot-straps?!?


Depression skews your reality. It whispers lies to you which you have no choice but to believe. You become so consumed with the ideas of not being enough, not being lovable, or having no value to the world at all. Everyone around you knows these things to be untrue, but you’re living in two different realities.

I’ve been in a pretty low, dark place over the last… I’m not even sure how long it has been, but it feels like forever. I’ve honestly forgotten how it feels to feel true happiness or joy. There are days which are better than others. Days where I smile and get my work done and don’t feel so awful. But there are also some days that are really bad. Days where it is hard to get out of bed, hard to be productive. You can’t name a single good thing about yourself and you convince yourself to understand why there is no love in your life.


Those who are struggling with these feelings, we carry it around with us all day, every day. It is always present. We learn to hide it, close the doors while we are crying, have our go-to excuses for missing out on work or social events.

I’ve done the medication. I’ve done the self-help. I’ve done yoga and acupuncture. I’ve been to counsellors, psychologists, doctors, and psychiatrists. But, I’m in the same spot where I started.

Life has been going on like this for some time now. It’s hard to imagine an end to this bad trip and getting back to my true self. A self that I’m not sure I would recognize if I saw her on the street. A self I remember as smiling, positive, and optimistic about the world and her future.


When will I feel better? Does anyone ever feel better? Does recovery from depression exist? I don’t know, but I’ll continue on this road and maybe, somehow, I will come upon an exit and be capable of making the turn-off.


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