Depression: My Super Hero Story

I’ve always thought if I were a superhero I would be the love child of Rogue© and Wolverine© from Marvels X-Men©. Untouchable and indestructible. I prided myself on the fact that I am built like a tank. If a anything ran into me, it would be in a pile on the side of the road.   

Today realise I don’t have protective inborn special powers but a really great piece of full body armour and an invisible shield. I am Batman©. A social recluse who puts on a great show and is surrounded by lots of people who have no idea who you really are. Every day I walk out in full armour ready to fight every one’s battles yet I refuse to face my own pain. I distract myself with important things that do not matter to me.

My armour seems impenetrable but under it, is a body covered in unhealed wounds and bruises. I push through my pain. The pain does not make you stronger, it just makes you more aware.

By Actionvance

You become aware that people who see you, don’t know you. You become aware that you are a fraud. You laugh, you seem confident and to some, even arrogant but really you are dealing with guilt, anger, loneliness and this unshakeable, dissatisfied feeling.

Not everyone is blind. There are some who see you.

I went to see my husband’s uncle the other day. I was all smiles. Looking on point, giving polite conversation. The poster child of every good Swiss finishing school. As the evening drew to an end he turned to me and said “My son has told me about your new job and all the amazing things you’ve accomplished.” I smiled sheepishly. “Daughter, what are you running away from?”

I was not prepared. “Running away?”, I laughed. He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m good,“ I started. “I just suffer from tunnel vision. Once I get into it, I like to see it through to the end. Really. I’m good. I’m really happy to be making such an impact. It’s been really busy that’s all.” My heart was racing. What the hell is going on! How dare he see me! I raced out of there as quickly as I could.

Unlike Batman, I am not alone. I have a patient husband who understands that “Cave” periods are not forever. I have a sister and mother who like Jewish old testament priests, will not go in the cave with me but have tied ropes to my waist so when I do go in, they can drag me back out. I have brother who is teaching me to recognise the triggers, face the pain and resist the darkness.

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