Hey Barbies, and Kens,

Something I heard a few weeks ago just kind of hit me today. Like, picture a game of cat-and-mouse.  Eventually, the mouse runs out of things to hide in, and the cat wins.

It’s a bleak image. But, I’m not covering a particularly sunny topic today.  And I’m sorry if this is not what you wanted to read about, but alas, I am not all croutons, and nutella.  I need to talk about depression tonight, and suicide, and stigmas, and labels, and like, that whole egg roll.

I won’t be able to cover it all, but I just need to get some things out there, that have been sitting inside, a place where things shouldn’t stay for too long, because then they start to burn a hole, and before you know it, you’re left empty inside.

Depression is this thing that I can’t really describe, because I think it’s different for everyone.  It goes to different degrees, it hits different areas, and people react differently, because no one is in the exact same life-situation as someone else.

For me, depression is like sitting behind glass walls.  I know the world is all around me, but I also know that something is blocking it that I can’t stop.  I can hear and see all the people, cheering, smiling, and laughing.  For a while, I can even laugh with them, but then it hits me that I can’t be in their world.  I can’t laugh, and genuinely be there with them in that moment.  I mean, I can be happy for them, and smile, and maybe even manage a laugh, but I can’t be truly happy inside, even with everything going right.  Depression, to me, is seeing that glass wall, and knowing that no one else can, and even if they could see it, they’d think you could just break free.

I still get sad sometimes, or overwhelmed, or what not.  I’m human like that.  Sometimes, I just need someone to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if they don’t know for sure.  Sometimes, I just need a really corny joke to sarcastically laugh at.   Sometimes, I need someone to tell me that I am enough to them, because I will never feel like enough to myself.  I mean, I’m not suicidal in times of sadness, but some people are.  So many so that suicide is now the #2 killer of teens in BC.  That’s what hit me today.  The magnitude of it all.

That people get really sad, and stressed, and overwhelmed, sometimes to the point of no return.

And sometimes they don’t want to talk about it. Talking about it is hard, because people judge you for it, and call you “crazy,” and see you differently, but talking about it is what needs to happen more, because this whole thing is bigger than one person.  If it wasn’t, people wouldn’t die every day because of it.

So, maybe it’s time to start talking, before it’s too late.