Trauma + Healing Stories
Empowerment + Validation + Support for Trauma Survivors, one story at a time.
Depression is a block of mine.
I bet a lot of you have it too.
The a-hole un-welcomed frenemy who loves to drop in,
unannounced, talking shit you do not want to hear.
And you try so hard to be polite....
You want to "humor it".
Hell, you even COOK IT DINNER.
You break bread with depression.
And so do I.
Today we grabbed a coffee together.
And the funniest shit happen.
It was talking, telling me the latest drama and yammering on --- when I started to have this really bitter taste in my mouth. and sore feeling in my throat.
This whole feeling took over my body like a fever.
I felt sick, sitting here in front of depression.
And it hit me.
I hate its MF company.
I hate rambles.
I hate the yammering.
F. I even swore off coffee because it tips my anxiety into unsafe levels sometimes. And I do not like feeling the heart racing pain of regret.
So I had set boundaries.
Like an old friend, someone who did not even know the ME I have become anymore, depression just kept on talking,
Looking all around and laughing its' ass off.
But not looking me in the face.
And again, between chill and nausea, it hit me.
My boundaries. My needs. My precious time.
How did I get here in this seat with this disgusting feeling in my body.
I took the call.
Now I know rationality. I love her. I do not get to see her as often, but I miss her and now try to make it a habit to call her sometimes. Or just leave her little voice memos. Just to tell her I miss her.
I feel totally compelled at this moment to put down my cheap ass, lukewarm coffee and STOP.
STOP depression in its' tracks.
I remember rationality telling me once this funny little trick.
"YOU CANNOT CONTROL EVERYTHING. YOU CANNOT PREDICT EVERYTHING. YOU CANNOT MAGICALLY CURE EVERYTHING."
And she was right. Unwelcomed friends sometimes just "drop-in."
"BUT..." rationality said..." YOU CAN CONTROL YOU."
And my mind was blown.
I set my coffee cup down and I said real calm, looking depression dead in the face.
This was not fun. In fact, I am straight up uncomfortable right now. And what I am about to tell you might be really uncomfortable for us both."
It did not really have a reaction. Just a lifeless stare. Almost through me.
"I am actually not able to sit here anymore. I gave you some time, and really I was just trying to extend myself to be kind. To go out on a limb. But I am not happy with where this is going. And I just want to be honest with you."
Depression seemed to just stand up and walk away like it was not really listening.
And I felt my body felt less tense.
I began to regain my breathe and slow my heartbeat down.. just enough to stop hearing the pounding.
"I just remembered I have somewhere to be. But I will see you around, maybe soon," it said as it avoided eye contact with me and left the room.
"yeah.. maybe" I replied.
Then I just sat with myself for a while. I sat and I thought about my feelings. I processed, I marinated, and then I was done.
I was a bit sad leaving, though I do not know why.
Sometimes seeing a familiar face is nice.
And sometimes I humor things against my own will.
Out of obligation.
Out of guilt.
Out of fear.
Sometimes I do not even know why I answer the call.
But I do know this.
I really want to tighten my inner circle of friends, to call on the ones who matter and the things that make me feel good.
I can control me.
The food, the drinks, the habits. Lifestyle choices. I can control those and do healthy things.
And I know in nature's healing there is a call for balance.
But maybe I won't need to sit with old friends if I set my boundaries to only humor the things that bring me joy.
J.S. Trauma + Healing Stories
A collective of stories about Trauma + Healing, to promote awareness, validation and support for Trauma Survivors.
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization.
Jean Grey is a pen name that I use across socials and as a writer at my own discretion. Jean is my birth name and Grey is a symbolic addition I chose for significance to my identity.
Questions? Contact Jean at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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