Just because I'm a princess with a fairly charmed life doesn't guarantee me immunity from things like bad hair days, hypertension, foot odor (why???), and mood swings. Everyone is entitled to an off day every now and again, but as a princess, I struggle with the bad hair days. The voice inside my head – who, by the way, sounds awfully similar to the voice of one K.W. who tormented me in grade school and ultimately married my high school crush – criticizes me. She says things like, "Oh – would you look at the weepy princess crying because her tiara is on crooked! You realize there are people out there without tiaras who are actually struggling, right? Why don't you shut up your stupid ugly face?"
Let me be clear. I hate that voice inside my head. She's loud, incessant, mean and nasty. And she has an incredibly foul mouth for an imaginary frenemy. She is the voice that says, "I told you not to eat that second piece of pizza, fatso!" when I struggle to fasten the button on my pants in the morning. When I lay my weary bones on the couch to catch up on current events on TV (translation: checking out the latest cat-fights on whatever season of The Real Housewives is on), her judgmental eye surveys the house and suggests that I get my lazy tail up off the couch and run a vacuum or wash a dish. She criticizes my clothes, hair, makeup, lifestyle choices, how I drive, and my inability to clip coupons. No matter how hard I work, no matter how successful I might become, it is never enough for this insufferable bitch.
Here's the problem. That bitch? Well, she's me. And the fact that I've resorted to name-calling and "adult-language" is just further proof that we are one in the same. For those of you asking if there's a point in here somewhere, there is. When I look in the mirror, I don't always see a princess. When I look around my house or plan for my weekend getaway with my handsome prince, I don't always take time to appreciate all my good fortune. I have been known to see the glass as . . . gasp . . . half-empty. And then proceed to get really angry about it. I watch Lifetime movies and cry – not at the crappy over-acting but at the misfortunes endured by the characters. I come straight home from work, put on my jammies, and eat carbs as if I'm preparing to run a marathon when we all know that the furthest I'm going is from the couch to the fridge to grab another beer.
Sometimes the bad hair days are worse than others. These are the days I can barely get out of bed; the days where even the idea of getting dressed and leaving the house feel akin to climbing Mount Everest. These are the days when I look at my life and instead of celebrating all the amazing gifts I've been given and all the opportunities I still have to look forward to, I throw a giant pity party and curse myself for not running a marathon, learning to cook, having a baby, learning Japanese, growing my own organic vegetables, composting, volunteering more in the community, and you can fill in the blanks with pretty much any and everything else.
That, my friends, is known as a form of depression. The nagging voice inside my head that yells at me; the desire to curl up in the fetal position, cry, and eat chocolate until I burst; the fatigue that is so great that even my eyelashes hurt . . . these are all symptoms of depression, which is not a state of mind but an illness. The only differences between depression and the common cold are the stigma and the amount of snot. If you ignore the common cold, you'll infect everyone around you with your filthy germs and you're probably going to have to wipe your nose on your sleeve since you won't be armed with Puffs Plus. When you have a cold, you drink orange juice, you take Nyquil, you sniffle a lot, and you do whatever it takes to feel better. When you have depression, you should take care of yourself just like you do when you've got the sniffles. If you're feeling really lousy for any extended period of time, you're not just having a bad hair day. Everyone gets the blues every once in a while – but when blue is the color du jour and you can't remember the last time you saw the world with rose colored glasses, it's time to take action.
Much like that annoying cold that gets passed around the office or daycare, where one person gets a cough, someone else has a sore throat, and you get both plus a side of inflamed sinuses, depression symptoms are different in everyone and can change over time.
Bottom line? I am a princess, darn it – and I have an amazing life thanks to the grace of God, the support of my family and friends, and no small amount of hard work. You know what else I have? I have a form of clinical depression and I have some nice blue pills and a standing appointment with an elfintherapist to ensure that I continue to get out of bed and fight the good fight every day.
This post is dedicated to all those who are managing depression; struggling with it; or fighting it. This post is especially dedicated to Nathan Corbett, who battled bipolar disorder and depression but lost his fight at the age of 27. He would have turned 39 years old this Saturday.
©2012 Princess D
