depressed people make me happy

So I made a new friend yesterday. I’d passed her in the hallways and made small talk often enough, but I’m bad about that acquaintance thing (namely leaving it at that). But this new friend made friends with the girl next door to me and we finally got a “real” conversation. She’s a depressed, anorexic, clinical insomniac with lots of family drama. I got the whole low down on this in our first conversation. When I mentioned my blog and my rape history she opened up that her current family drama involved rape. Friendship sealed. 

To some, revealing this much information, especially of this heavy a nature, during our first lengthy conversation might be awkward or break some sort of social norm, but strangely I love it. My best friend in high school once accused me of “thriving on people’s misery.” Perhaps her wording was a bit melodramatic, but the core idea behind it is, I must admit, true. I like being friends with people with problems. If someone exudes one of those auras like their life sucks and they’re just dragging themselves through it, I’m pulled into getting to know them before I even hear their story. This is why I think I’m denying a calling to be a shink/social worker of something.

I’ve got a few theories as to why this affect happens:

1. I have a thirst for codependent relationships. This is something I’ve been fighting since my freshman year of high school. I had a 24/7 best friend who was depressed and who I tried to comfort, cheer, and “fix” for over four months before cracking. But I’d like to think it’s not this anymore. My fixing people tendencies are something I closely monitor and try to keep under control. 

2. I like serious conversation, and people who have problems like to talk seriously about them. Serious conversation and being with someone through difficulties also forms emotional bonds, allowing you to get a feeling of closeness from someone of this aura a lot faster than other kinds of people.

3. Around negative people I get to be that “sunny” person in their lives. My parents picked a very fitting name. I love being around dark people because it’s natural to balance a relationship, meaning I get to play the part of the exuberantly happy one. In my head or when I’m alone I feel like a dark person. But around them I get to be something very different. And for some reason it’s never felt fake. I’m not putting on some kind of mask to be there for them. That would be an exhausting friendship. They just bring that emotion out in me. When a smile is rare, its more exciting to win one.

4. They make my problems feel small. Allowing me to justify not facing my own issues, but burying them, ignoring them, and moving on because compared to my friends’ issues I’m making a big deal about nothing and I really just need to get over it because life could be worse. (<— stream of thought)

Of course like with most things the answer is usually a little bit of all of them.

Much Love Depressed Comrades!

Sunny

many false starts

have lead to this point. I’ve always wanted to keep a blog, but never got beyond creating a layout. That’s NOT what blogging is about. It’s about community, writing, and whatever topic you chose. This blog attempt, I think, might actually work because it is on a topic that is near and dear to my heart: rape.

Sounds like a weird topic to care about when I word it that way, haha. My experiences with rape have dramatically changed my life and at times made me feel very isolated. The funny thing is though, it happens to a lot of people. (1 in 6 American women, and the stats are higher for college/high school aged women) SO, why do I feel so alone? Becuase it’s not the kind of thing people go around talking about!

At least, not in person.

Thank you internet! 

Much Love, Sunny