Summertime Sadness

Summer feels like the wrong time to be sad.

It’s the season people look forward to. Longer days. More sunshine. More reasons to be outside. To be happy.

Growing up, summer made me sad. It meant more time at home. More tiptoeing around the house as to not wake or disturb my mom, who was very sick. It meant loneliness and carrying responsibility I was too young to carry.

The sun is out. Go outside. It’s too nice of a day to stay in. Don’t waste the day.

My depression has never cared what season it is. I can be surrounded by (all of my favorite) people and still feel completely alone. It’s being included but never feeling seen.

Depression means living with a chronic injury no one can see. There’s no cast. No limp. No 6-8 week timeframe for healing. Nothing that signals to people that I’m in pain.

It’s all the grief and loss I’ve ever carried resurfacing at once, taking my breath away. Completely invisible, yet so physically heavy.

It’s avoiding the mirror because I can’t bear my own reflection. Feeling a rush of shame when someone posts a photo. It’s hiding in oversized clothes, hoping my body will disappear and that people aren’t judging me as harshly as I judge myself. Assuming they are.

It’s second-guessing everything before (and after) I do it. Every text, conversation, decision. Constantly wondering if I’m too much or not enough. Staying quiet because it feels safer than risking getting anything wrong.

It’s believing that if I ran far enough, achieved enough, or simply did more, I could outrun abuse, addiction, and loss. So much loss.

It’s feeling separated from the things I love. It’s reaching goals I once dreamt about and wondering why they don’t fill the emptiness. Depression has a way of convincing me that I’m the thing that is wrong.

Depression is saying I’m “fine.” “Great,” even. Showing up. Smiling. Making jokes because laughter is easier than honesty.

I wish more people talked about it.

It’s too easy to believe you are alone in carrying it. To mistake sadness for failure or assume that because a life looks full, it feels full.

I often stay inside on a sunny day. Sometimes I just need someone to tell me that it’s ok, that it’s not a waste.