Depression or the wishing well

Some days I'm more dragon.

Let's talk mental illness.

Depression Is a mental illness.

I'm not depressed now but I remember it.

Being at the bottom of a pit with no way out.

When i was down there, I found ways to numb myself from that sad existences with some wine or weed or tiktok, and for a while the pit didn't look so sad. I had my phone, it had apps. I found ways to interact with people when I needed to. They couldn't tell.

Just as I thought I could learn to live in this routine of constant misery, as I fondly called it while wallowing in the mud of despair, someone from up above started throwing things at me.

It immediately reminded me how I got down the well in the first place when I ran from all those other rocks and fell in so long ago.

I had trauma, you see.

At first I thought they were all trying to hit me, turned out only some young and stupid ones were, others were just doing their thing, unclear if they saw me at all. Either way, it hurt, so I found a way to curl up in a ball or hide to the side if I knew it was coming. If I was surprised, they might have heard me yell HEY WHAT THE FUCK!!! And that might be scary for a little creature sitting up top throwing little things not knowing there is a dragon at the bottom of the well. So I tried to only yell at those who deserved it. But the hits still came whether I was quiet or not.

The rocks and pennies thrown were an unpleasant addition to the misery routine.

They were a small and pestering reminder of my shitty situation.

With every coin I would hear an echo:

Nickle - you are on your own

Penny - you have no options

Quarter - nobody's going to help you

Dime - nobody remembers you

Dollar - just do something else already

Rock - this is what you deserve

Some days, the well was very popular so it was easier to just roll up in a ball and let those coins role off my back.

Other days, a small rock might be welcome as entertainment on a monotonous day and I would just whack it with my tail.

While my voice helps keep me out, two things helped get me out of my depression pit and those were friends and purpose.

The day I made friends with Nothing changed my life.

Nothing was named for their appearance and expectations.

They lived in the cracks of the well and actually didn't mind it there except for the boredom.

I was staring up at the clouds when Nothing dropped a pit from his pear and it hit me right in the eye and I gave a little shriek. "Sorry", nothing said quickly and somehow we started chatting and became friends.

With Nothing's help, I started doing things.

When I started cleaning and moving around, I realized the pile of coins had gotten substantially large and I could start fulfilling some small wishes.

I slowly started to feel happy.

Happy was a feeling I suddenly remembered how much I missed.

Feeling happier made me lighter, literally and before I knew it I was out of the well sitting with the sun on my face.

Today I feel safe from the pit of despair.

Even when I feel a pebble or a faint echo and I might look down deep into the well and think it might not be so bad down there, and even if once in a while someone tries to push me in, I listen to my own voice telling me I like myself and who I am, I'm needed, I'm wanted, I'm good enough, and if needed - I can get better.

I remember my purpose and I remember my friends. (Not to be confused with the porpoise in my garage)

With that power, I dodge their rocks and catch the pennies.