Boys get sad, too. They get quiet. They allow themselves to become alienated. They isolate themselves. They say they hate themselves. They question their existence. They brush it off. They pick themselves up. They carry on.
What purpose does depression serve? What good does it do? Why does it have this particular effect? Why does it exist? What, ultimately, is depression anyway? Is it a personal experience that only you and you alone can truly understand? Or is it a blanket term for anyone going through a difficult time? I discuss why the conversation around depression is imperative to find our purpose.
At this point in time I am almost certainly the busiest I’ve ever been, and I’ve almost definitely got the least to show for it. Whereas in the past, my work was very much tangible, recently I’ve found myself running around like a headless chicken for 90% of my day and still have a full to-do list at the end of it.
So, what’s the scenario?
As time goes by, it’s understandable to forget how much you’ve changed over the years. I never thought I’d get to the day where my first place to write, vent and exhale would be here—online—as opposed to my notepad. The added irony being, I opened the pad and wrote, “Sometimes you just need to write things down” and then immediately jumped on my laptop. There’s never enough time for writing these days, even though there’s no real time cap. We’re caught up in this perpetual rush fuelled by absolutely nothing but ourselves.