Sometimes I find the words to offer you a glimpse of where I'm at, but usually my words are inadequate. Other times I withdraw, sinking deep inside of myself, and then the words don't come at all. And still sometimes, I lash out. This is not how I want to be.This is not how I want to be with you.So I am sitting quietly, trying to get this all down, to tell you everything I want you to know. It will not be perfect, but it will be real. It will be the best snapshot I can give you of where I'm at right now: I didn't choose this. No one would choose to feel this way, I promise you. It's part of my brain chemistry, my DNA, along with a thousand other things about me that you love or that frustrate you. My eye color, my long fingers, my depression. So please know that though it might not seem like I'm doing enough to lift myself out of this, I'm not choosing depression. It chose me.Please be gentle with me. I know I look the same, but inside, I don't feel like me. Or rather I feel like the most uncomfortable edges of me; right now, I am made of all doubt and fear. I feel so—so fragile. I know this is hard for you too, but please don't withdraw. Please don't turn your anger toward me. Do take care of yourself—talk to someone who can listen. Tell them how hard it is.I can't think of much besides my own pain right now. This is one of the most devious parts of depression—it's so selfish. The reason I'm acting selfish is because I'm in constant emotional pain. Imagine your leg was broken, your bones in shards, full of stabbing pain. When we're in physical pain, it's hard to think of much else. It's the same way with emotional pain. My mind chases its own tail, coming back to the same stuck place over and over. I can't stop thinking about how much I hurt, because I just hurt so damned much.You don't have to fix me. I know when we see someone we love suffering, we want to stop it. But you can't. You can't fix me. I'm not sure even I can fix me. Some mystery of time and medication, of self-care and chemistry will see me out of this. What I need from you is your patience—your love. I need walks with you in the sunlight. I need to sit with you and watch something funny, so that I can hear the sound of us both laughing, to remember the vibration of joy. I am so scared. I know rationally that this dark period will end, and sometime—hopefully soon—I'll feel more like myself again. But right now I'm so scared. I'm scared that this will be the time I won't be able to claw myself out. I'm scared that the further down I sink, the longer the climb back up will be. Please know this about me—I am like a scared child in the dark who's convinced herself there's a monster in the closet. But instead of the closet, the monster is inside me. And I'm terrified. Please be patient. I have always said that having depression is like being nearsighted. Everything is blurry, distorted, shapeless. I can't see clearly right now. But I have been here before, and I will probably be here again. And I know it will shift. Maybe it will happen as quickly as we'd like, and I will wake up tomorrow feeling settled and clear-eyed and smiling. Maybe it will take time, and my vision will return in increments, painfully slow but steady. But I do know it will return. And the calm, clear center of me will reemerge. I can feel it now, just below the surface. Waiting. Depression is hard to comprehend when you're experiencing it and even harder to explain to those around you. Some days, you may feel like yourself and other days you may struggle to finish a daily task like eat a full meal or take out the trash. Depression... it just eats you up from the inside out. It's like a monster inside your head that takes over. The worst thing is to know that my family and friends were doing all they could yet I still felt so lonely. Anything that was said to me, I managed to turn into a bad thing. I was literally my own worst enemy. I would come home and feel so exhausted from all of the voices in my head that I would just sleep to block it all out. I didn't want to wake up because living was a nightmare. I felt sick with the fear of night time because that's when the voices got even louder. I would get so frustrated because it seemed impossible to sleep, as if insomnia and depression go hand in hand.I knew I needed help but asking for it just made me feel like a burden. I wanted to be free of meds, doctors, counsellors, hospitals and negative thoughts. I felt as if I had lost myself and wouldn't ever be the same again. I had no motivation to do anything because I couldn't see a future for myself. Anxiety caused me to believe everyone was faking their love for me. 'Cheer up' was the worst thing anyone said to me. Those two words triggered thousands of horrible thoughts and I was beating myself up for not hiding how I felt well enough from everyone around me.I wanted everyone to know how I felt but I didn't dare tell them. Eventually I just isolated myself in my room because no contact with people meant nothing could go wrong, surely?At the moment I rely on medication and I am grateful to have it because I know it has really helped me. At the same time, I balance the wish that I could be free of it with the fear that it might lead to a relapse.The scariest thing about my whole recovery process is that the only person who can truly help me is me. I have learnt to change my thought processes and stop bullying myself, it's a habbit that's been hard to break but I know I've made some positive changes.2020 was a rollercoaster ride and admittedly one with more lows than highs. I feel I have been to hell and back but would I change what I have been through? If I was to be totally honest I don't think I would. That doesn't mean that depression is a good thing because it definitely isn't, but I believe you must turn your negative experiences into positive ones if you can.
If I hadn't been through these things I wouldn't have learnt that the most important thing in life is to be happy. I can now see a future. I hope to build a career in something that I love, something that will make ME happy, not focusing on what others want from me.If I was to give one piece of advice to others who are struggling, it would be not to suffer in silence. There are people out there who have been through everything that you are experiencing and have come out on the other side. In fact, their experiences have made them who they are today. It may seem impossible to overcome but believe me, you will get there.You shouldn't feel guilty for feeling the way you do because depression is an illness like any other, it isn't any more self centred than having a broken leg. I was always told to show myself the same respect and concern that I would show for others. We are so accepting of other parts of our bodies breaking, why can't we be that way about our minds too?
