She came out to me on a Friday night, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a wine glass in hand, barefooted and wearing SpongeBob pajamas. It should have been hilarious but we weren’t laughing after that 9.5 earthquakes shook us. It was a modern-day wall of Jericho type of event and the only difference was that no-one was singing but the walls fell.
“I have been diagnosed with depression A. I have to go for therapy for my daughter she said.
l looked at her like she had suddenly grown horns. I was shaking! I was sad! I didn’t know how to react to this information. She was the strongest person I knew and truth be told I was a little mad at depression and anxiety for rearing its ugly head into my friend’s life.
We sat on the kitchen floor in silence and poured glass after glass hoping that one of us would be brave to say something.
“I got you, hun. We will get through it together” I said. The devil tried to tell me I ain’t got nobody because I didn’t have Thor’s hammer or hulk’s strength to carry another person’s weight around especially since I was a mere 50kg on the dot. But I got her.
She has been going to therapy and sometimes we have good days and bad days but we sail on the Caribbean of life like pirates . Depression is not something people can switch off, it hits you when you least expect it and ruins a perfectly sunny day.