By Vivien Y. //
Depression is a bad friend. The kind that sticks around and pours poison in your ear. It follows me to work meetings, Friday nights with friends, back home in bed and most recently, it followed me to a gig.
You see I’m a singer-songwriter, and sometimes I get asked to perform in public. Music has always filled me with unbridled joy — I love it to bits. On stage, plugged in and miked up, I talk about my heartbreaks, I taunt my bullies, I laugh at myself. People laugh and clap, depression can’t touch me, I feel safe.
It all changed a few weeks ago.
I was in the midst of a depressive episode. It was three weeks in and everyday felt like I was swimming through a haze. I wasn’t eating much, I was having nightmares and on occasions when I did get some sleep, I would wake up with a sickening, familiar sense of desolation. But I held on to a sliver of hope: the stage was waiting for me! Everything would fall right into place the minute I stepped onto the stage.
Nope. Life isn’t a movie, and I was wrong.
The day of the gig, I didn’t want to leave the house at all and I was worrying so hard I had a headache. I was so convinced that I hadn’t rehearsed enough and was going to forget how to play my guitar on stage (note: that’s not possible). I reached out to a friend in panic, and she asked me, “Is there any way you can cancel? You’re not feeling well.” I said I couldn’t cancel. I wouldn’t want to trouble anyone, plus it wasn’t like I was sick. So I forced myself up on the stage, hoping for the best.
It was terrible. The voice in my head was right. The applause sounded like pity. My walk out of the performance area felt like a walk of shame. I was shaken by the thought that I sucked at doing the thing I loved. Even when I received positive feedback from people who had watched me that night, I didn’t believe them.
But here’s the thing I’ve learnt about depression. Depression lies.
It took me a few days to climb out of the hole I dug for myself after that “disastrous” performance, but once I did, I became aware of how badly I treated myself. I refused to accept compliments from people even though the speakers were facing outwards and they were the ones who could actually hear me. I refused to give myself a break and call in sick for the show when I clearly wasn’t well enough to take to the stage. I let anxiety and low self-esteem build up an exaggerated version of reality so terrifying that it took a toll on me for days.
It isn’t easy. I was already getting professional help when this happened. But I am comforted by the fact that I now know depression can takes things like pride, validation and happiness away from me.
I use this knowledge to remind myself that depression lies, and that I should take care of myself even when I feel like I don’t deserve it.
Vivien is a fresh graduate, writer and musician. She started writing at a young age to cope with the tribulations of growing up and now writes to stop the crazy in her head. She is one of the shortlisted finalists in the National Poetry Competition (2018) and was a mentee in the Noise Music Mentorship program (2017). She is also a Tapestry volunteer writer.
Read more of Vivien’s stories here.