“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds’, I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” – Rose Kennedy
I don’t know anyone who has suffered any pain, whether it is grief, trauma, abuse, injury, illness. It doesn’t matter how shallow the wounds are, how quickly they heal, the scars are always there to haunt us, remind us of the pain, tell us that it still hurts, telling us that they will never let us forget what we have felt, experienced, and where we have been. Pain that leave scars is a endless, the list many, the types all sorts, but they are all painful, lifelong, and never healed.
Living with depression is living with many open sores, and living with a lot of scar tissue, scars that will never take the pain that depression leaves on our lives. Depression comes from sores that have left scars in your past. For me, my wounds were inflicted from a young age from a Mother who loved to use a horse whip to take out her frustrations and anger, from other students bullying me from the moment I got on the school bus to the time I got back off at the end of the day, I found my first love at 18, my first boyfriend and the man that would end up my abusive husband, causing deep wounds mentally and physically, he cheated, he controlled, and he hurt me continuously because he probably thought that was what it was to be a man, I was bullied at work because of my depression, I became a single Mum, who wasn’t just divorced from her husband but from family and friends who didn’t want to know what open sores I had, loneliness made my sores infected, they didn’t want to heal, the pain just dragged on and on, I then fell for the fireman who took my heart, lied to me and then I found out he was living two lives, I was the hidden life that because it was the only thing that gave me hope I held onto it despite the punishment, when I had the courage to end it he blamed me and went out of his way to destroy what little I had left, I somehow found my way through the depression fog to find love, this time it was real, it was true, and he took my soul as his mate forever, my wounds got a reprieve, a chance to heal. But the bad times were not over for me, depression took me away, into the depths of darkness, entrapment, and pain that can’t be explained.
I am not the only person living with depression who has so many open sores, so many scares. Many of us have lived a lifetime of suffering, abuse, helplessness, pain and punishment, so much that most never heal, and scares still remain but the pain it never goes, always in the background reminding us of where we have been.
No amount of medications, counselling, ECT, therapy can rid us of our pain, it may heal our sores but the scars will remain and stay with us on our journey through our depressive episodes, and with us as we journey down the recovery road. We can’t forget, we can’t get rid of the scares but we can fight, we can commit to therapy, take our pills, go to our counselling, we can keep trying to control that Black Dog, we can keep taking steps forward, it will be slow, but we can get there, we can escape the clutches of depression.
We all have something to offer someone, we have heaps to offer ourselves, through fighting and survival we will heal the wounds, and we will cope with the scars, we will live with depression, we will travel that road to recovery, and we will get through this, because we are survivors, with the scars to prove it!