The poem below is by Megan over at MeganTalks.  She’s from British Columbia and the poem speaks volumes about depression, labels and expressing yourself.   Thank-you for letting us post this.

I sit here thinking about depression and I have a confession
I used the word depressed without being diagnosed
But at most
A diagnosis is fitting a criteria
A bunch of checked off boxes
Yes or no questions but not a reflection of who I am
An truly,
I don’t give a damn what you call it… I’m sad
Not an average everyday sadness
A feeling that borders on madness because I can’t explain it
I often wake with an ache in my bones and a pounding in my brain
And I can’t explain why it hurts
I can’t explain why today is harder than yesterday and that’s not okay,
I need a reason
I need to climb out of bed and land on my feet not on my face
But you can trace the bruises on my jawline
While I tell you that I’m fine
But I’m not
Self hatred will rot in my subconscious until I find the answers
Answers that cannot be found because they do not exist
So I’m left with a list of symptoms
Wake up tired from a restless sleep
Barely able to keep going
Moody, irritable
Unable to concentrate
And contemplate death
Because I’m worthless
Cursed with, this feeling
Thoughts reeling through my head as my mood changes
And rearranges my reality
Laughter bursts into tears as all my fears boil at the surface
Left with this burden of confusion, no conclusion to my problem and no one to help me solve them
They all think I’m crazy
A fucked up girl far from a lady
They scoff at what’s described as an inability to deal with emotion
Not understanding the notion of…
Well I don’t really know what it is
But it’s me
And this is my reality
So fuck you if you don’t accept me
This is the way I always will be
I am a crazy girl
Call me depressed or bipolar
But, I absorb the solar energy from the galaxy where reality is in the fallen starts that create dreams in the palms of my hands and demands me to take hold of them
But some days depression steals my motivation
And dreams seem out of reach orbiting beyond my center of gravity
And I’m mad at me
For wallowing in self pity and allowing a shitty day to destroy me
Just because I can’t see the stars…doesn’t mean I shouldn’t hold out my hands
Now all of you think I’m crazy
But am I crazy enough to be manic?
Instantly I start to panic
At the thought of a diagnosis as if it is a prognosis for my future
The creation of a label, a fable for my life
To be told and retold until it can be sold as my memior
No longer a girl… but a definition

I sit here thinking about depression and I have a confession
I use the word depressed without being diagnosed

The original post to the poem is here. Check out her tumblr, the photos are amazing, BC always is stunning.  Thank-you again, Megan.

So, can you relate?  What defines you?


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