I went out even though I’m depressed. Karaoke is harmless fun and on a Wednesday night there’s little chance it’ll be crowded. My friend came by work just to get me out. How can I refuse that? 

I told her I’m depressed. Every time I say the words is easier than the last. I aim for a casual air even though I nearly choke on the statement every time. It feels strange to just admit it. Depressed is a word reserved for the extremes of sadness, right?

I’m not stuck at the extreme anymore. I’m taking medication for my depression. That doesn’t cure me. The pit of alienation and worthlessness I crawled out of is a sticky morass of doubt and insecurity. It will reach out if I get too close and once entangled it’s a physical struggle to escape.

I sat in the dim bar light and listened to people have fun. I even went up and did my favorite song – Mercedes Benz by Janis Joplin. I still fought back tears at every turn and strained to keep a smile on my face. I stayed quiet and didn’t talk to anyone unless spoken to. (WASP defense mechanism) I didn’t have to worry. I went mostly unnoticed. The muscles of my chest ached from holding back screams.

The years of work I put into handling depression without any help is why I can “power through it”. So to speak. That doesn’t mean it’s fun. The effort spent usually helps me slip out of the sticky morass without even noticing. Like a child falling asleep after a tantrum about bedtime.

I’m lucky there are a few people that love me no matter what.