People say Depression is all in your mind. Try suffering from it.
As if by some sort of dark magic, it hits me; the sadness, the emptiness, the darkness. It is back; the depression. Except this time it is the worst it has been in a very long time.
Something has triggered me to fall into a scary, perilous pit of darkness. Slowly drowning, I am here but I am not. I have one foot in this world and one in the next. The demons hands are around my ankle trying to pull me into their world and I am closer than I have ever been before.
Sick of crying, tired of trying and not feeling good enough, I have once again begun to draw upon my skin with blades of silver, turning my body red, one drop of blood at a time.
I am pushing harder, deeper against my skin than before, watching as more blood seeps from my wounds. Then something stops me. For although I am tired of living, I am also scared of dying. I know deep down somewhere that it is not what all of me wants.
It is a brave thing, fighting to live when your mind is telling you to die. Every breath becomes a war, a battle between your heart and your mind. It is exhausting.
Depression fills my body with darkness as I begin to lose myself. Paralyzed and numb, I begin to shut down, to shut out the world, to self destruct.
Overcome by complete sadness, I cannot leave my bed. I cannot stop the tears. I cannot face the world. My body is so drained and exhausted that I am sick over and over until there is nothing left inside of me.
I do not want to be awake because the world hurts too much, but I cannot sleep because my brain will not switch off.
I hate myself so much that I feel unwanted, worthless, a mistake. Then I feel even worse because of the down day I have had and the nothingness I have achieved.
I wake up the next day feeling exactly the same. Not wanting to leave my bed, but knowing I have to because I have to work. I need the money and I cannot let them down. After 24 hours submerged in my bed, I somehow manage to drag myself out of it and go to work. If I can just wear my fake smile until the end of the day, then I might be OK. I might. But I might not. Tomorrow may be just as bad as yesterday. I never know until I make it there. If I make it there.
This was yesterday. This is today. This will be tomorrow. This is Depression. This is me.
It is an illness. It is not made up. It cannot be controlled. Living with it is hell.
I can pretend, but deep inside nothing is OK. There are wounds that do not show on my body. There are demons in my head. Memories. Nightmares. My past. My story. My truth.
There is a depression that simmers under my skin awaiting the smallest trigger, the easiest excuse, to return. And boy when it does, it does so with vengence. With an anger and pain so strong it wants to kill me.
I battle every day. Sometimes I can run through it. These are the good days. Sometimes I can walk. Sometimes I can only crawl through. These days are the hardest. These are the days when I am not sure if I will survive this journey. These are the days when I realise that I cannot take off my armour yet because my war is not yet over.
People say depression is all in your head. Try living with it. Try battling it every day. Try trying to survive it. I can tell you, it is the hardest thing in the world to do. It has nearly taken me more than once. This time was the closest in a long time. But I survived it…just.
I am not asking you to save me. I just need you to stand next to me, to hold me up when I can only crawl, while I try to save myself.
My battle is a difficult one. But then I suppose every warrior goes through darkness before they reach the light…
Thanks for reading.
** Image courtesy of Google Images **