I’ve been very open with my battle against depression. It is a daily fight, a daily struggle, a daily effort to do sometimes the simplest things, like open my eyes to face the new day.
There are days where my head is so busy, so active, that I just go go go, and then crash later on, completely withdrawn into myself, barely acknowledging life happening around me.
Then there are days where my head is empty, my heart is numb, yet the weight of who knows what is pushing down on my shoulders, down on my heart, pushing me deeper and deeper into the darkness. Those days are the scariest to me.
I’d rather have the noise of clatter and nonsense swarming all around me, than the fear of nothing engulfing me. There are things I want to do; read a book, go for a run, write a blog post, but I can’t. I simply don’t have the oomfph to do any of it, but I so desperately want to.
As a person who craves routine and control in her life, not being able to control my ups and downs is beyond frustrating. I hate feeling inadequate and useless and worthless, but it’s not as simple as saying I am adequate, I am useful, and I have worth. I can say it, I can even think it. But I don’t believe it. That’s what people need to understand about depression; there is no quick fix.
I used to think that people with depression just needed a smile slapped on their face and that they’d be fine, and that they just needed to “get over it” basically. Now that I myself am dealing with this on a daily basis, just slapping a smile on my face doesn’t make me “get over it”. Quite the opposite in fact.
Sometimes the quiet in my head hurts so bad, that I cry out loud, because I know that this isn’t me, I know that I can be and do more. But when I try, I reach out and try, the noise comes back, the thoughts start buzzing, the negatively swarms all around me and I’m stuck in my hole, surrounded by my self-inflicted darkness, alone. So so alone. I have people everywhere in my life; at home, down the road, at work, overseas, on the internet, but I am alone. That’s what my head keeps telling me. And it’s so frustrating because I KNOW that it’s self-inflicted. I have the power to be happy; I have the power to rid myself of these feelings. But I can’t. I simply can’t.
I didn’t just wake up a year ago and decide to be depressed. It appeared over a few days of extreme stress and fatigue, and I haven’t been able to get rid of it. I don’t know if a person can ever get rid of their depression; I think that the negativity will always be there, buried somewhere in a dark crevasse of my mind, never fully gone. But I want to be able to control it, instead of it controlling me.
To sum up what depression feels like to me; imagine standing right underneath a beehive, watching as the bees swarm around it angrily in defense of their home. Imagine standing there, feeling every bee sting, silently crying out in pain, but not moving away. Simply because you can’t. Imagine your feet being rooted into the ground; imagine the fear knowing that you should be able to get away from the hurt, the self-inflicted pain, but you simply can’t.
That’s what I deal with every, single, day.