Another Sunday without a boyfriend nyana braaing outside while dancing to our favorite music as I prepare pap & salads calling him like โbaby , eyi salad ya beans na mayonnaise I sharp nah๐??โ Mxm ๐ญ๐ญ๐
I got a call on a Sunday afternoon. It was a friend of mine who has been living with depression and suicidal ideation. In the call all he said was "Dude, I am not fine. I am losing it".
He didn't need to say more. I told him I am coming over and the first thing we are doing is checking in his firearm at the police station and then we can sit and talk. He lives about 1h30mins away and when I arrived he had already handled the firearm part. I won't say where he lives because that 1h30m will show that I was avoiding a funeral more than I was avoiding speeding tickets.
His wife was not around for the weekend so it was me, him and his kids. We left them watching TV and went to sit by a corner. We talked. About everything besides the call he made earlier.
Not because I wasn't curious but because after living with depression too I know that I don't always want a questionnaire. Or explain triggers that don't make sense. Or explain that sometimes I don't even understand why I feel that way I do. In fact, he was going through some of the best few months of his life when he made that call. New house, business going well... To the outside world he didn't "qualify" for depression.
The elephant in the room was there but we were laughing. I think the elephant was laughing too.
Months later he made a facebook post about that moment and we could joke about it now. Publicly. Not knowing that the simple act of sitting in that corner talking about shit was exactly why he called.
Too often when a low point in depression hits, we feel like we are talking to people we have to qualify our state to. People who mean well. But I don't know why I want my world to end. And even if I do, it is not always this great big thing that most people would think "Okay, it makes sense why you feel this way".
The other reason for this is that depression, like any illness, wants to live. It will do whatever it can to survive. Depression lies to you and tells you that you're a burden, that nobody actually cares and that reaching out will only make things worse. It's not avoidance. It's the illness doing exactly what it's designed to do. Live. Make you isolated.
And he actually is right about being a burden because he still hasn't reimbursed me for my petrol. Umuntu feeling suicidal nge mampara week knowing he lives in another province ๐ญ Ngiyayifuna imali yam ye Petrol na ma Tollgate ๐ญ๐ญ๐ญ