Last Friday I made someone cry. She is a friend of mine, I've known her for over half my life, my children call her Aunty, I love her dearly. I didn't set out to make her cry and I'm not proud of it. I'm sorry that I upset her. I'm not sorry about the reason I made her cry.
We nearly always have drinks and nibbles with my mum on Friday nights. We have a regular cast of friends that join us when they can and last Friday a group of about 8 of us were gathered. It was a normal Friday night, drinking, laughing, eating, talking. One friend (not the one I made cry) has been having a terrible time of late with all sorts of unpleasantness in her life. She's been quite down and I would suspect is suffering from depression. She made a half hearted "joke" about walking to work the other day and getting caught waiting for the train to pass at the train crossing and declared that for a moment she'd thought to herself that if she threw herself under the train all the pain would be over. She laughed an uneasy laugh in an attempt to cover up just how serious the thought had been, trying to convince herself as well as us that she wouldn't really kill herself.
I was sad that she felt that way, but suddenly my other friend (the one I DID make cry) said something along the lines of "don't be ridiculous, you just have to get over it". She said several things along the same lines, that our friend must just stop thinking that way and stop being so down. Without thinking I turned and, probably in quite a snappish way, said "can you please stop telling someone who is depressed that they need to get over it, you're actually quite upsetting me". She muttered something I didn't really hear about trying to be helpful or some such, its all kind of a blur. Realising that I'd probably used a harsher tone than I meant to I tried to explain that I understood she was trying to be helpful but that if it was as simple as just stopping feeling sad then depression would be cured.
Before I knew what was happening she was out of her seat and choked out an "I have to go" amidst her struggle to contain her tears. I sat there, unsure what to do. I looked at the faces of the others at the table, some still engrossed in other conversations, oblivious to what had taken place, and as I sat there looking at them I realised that out of the eight of us sitting at the table I was aware that six of us have struggled with depression at some point in our lives. It was then I realised that I am so sick of staying quiet and minding the way I speak for fear of upsetting people. I'm always being told to temper the way I speak, that my passion is admired but I mustn't be so harsh. Fuck that.
I live my life everyday knowing that someone, or more likely a whole bunch of someones think that I should just get over my depression. They think my depression is just an excuse, its not real, its just that I need to learn to cope with life better, I need to stop being so ridiculous. I expect it from the wider community because that stigma still exists, that lack of understanding still exists. I do not expect it from people who love me. I do not expect it from someone who has many friends who've suffered from depression. I do not expect it at MY dinner table. I do not expect it and I will not tolerate it.
We may have trouble getting out of bed, facing the world, functioning in our own lives sometimes, but we will not stay silent. We will speak up. We will fight for those of us who are too weak to fight for themselves. We may be the depressed but we will not be the downtrodden or the defeated. Speak up, be heard.
The friend who'd mentioned her suicidal thoughts thanked me afterwards for speaking up and she knows now that someone hears her and understands. That is more reward then I could ever ask for.
