Follow Carla Robinson ( 5 Followers )

For some reason, people seem to be under the illusion that you need to have a reason to be depressed or anxious.

It’s not true—that’s not always how it works. You can be well-off, skinny, buff, beautiful, handsome, have a great job, and a loving significant other, and still be unhappy. It’s just how depression and anxiety work (please note, there’s a difference, but for many people, these illnesses go hand-in-hand).

Sometimes, there is a reason for it. For me, there’s a reason behind my anxiety. I mean, I was always an over-thinker, a worrier, and a fairly sensitive person in general. However, due to an extreme set of domino-like circumstances, my anxiety became full-blown and I became depressed. Really, truly, I can’t-get-out-of-bed depressed. And I told no one, except my partner.

While I’m still sick and still dealing with some lingering health issues, technically the problems I was having with workplace bullying and rejection are over. I say technically, because I quit my job and I moved twelve hours away from the girls who decided to make my life hell. So, technically, my “reason” should be gone.

But it’s not.

I’m different now. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m different. And not in a positive way. I used to bounce, and be bubbly, but I don’t do that anymore. I don’t trust people the way I used to. When I met people before, I used to pretty much like everyone instantly. There’s probably a handful of people in my entire life I disliked immediately after meeting them. I wasn’t that type of person. To be fair, I still like people—that hasn’t changed about me. I just no longer trust them to like me.

While the “reason” for my anxiety and depression has technically disappeared, and while I’d say emotionally I’m doing much better, I still have bad days. I still cry for no reason and for every reason. I still get panic attacks for unexplained reasons, and I hate going anywhere unfamiliar. I hate spontaneity, because I can’t prepare my anxiety levels.

I don’t know why I still feel this way, after a year of separation and quitting and moving. Maybe it’s because no one stood up for me and told me it was okay to feel the way I did, and that the people responsible weren’t held accountable for their behaviour.

Maybe there’s a quota of how much can happen to someone before they break, and I just happened to reach mine and now I’m a little broken inside.

Or maybe it’s one of those great mysteries of life. There is no reason, and sometimes we feel the way we do just because we do.

All I know is that, in this moment, I remember every bad thing that’s ever happened.

I remember every last person who told me I was ugly and worthless.

I remember how those girls ostracised, rejected, and ignored me.

I remember every feeling of despair as I search for any desperate reason that might explain why I just, all of a sudden, meant so little to those girls.

Despair is so overrated. It is not the picture Sylvia Plath painted. And it is the very reason we need to be compassionate and empathic, even when a person has no reason (in your mind, or even theirs) to be depressed or anxious. Because reasons can be overrated, too.

[Photo (of Carla and her good friend) credit to Carla Robinson]

Like what you read? “Heart” this story above, comment below, or consider submitting your own story!