If Loving You Were Wrong

Stop These Empty Promises

As I returned home, the weight of my depression settled over me like a heavy shroud, pulling me deeper into the depths of despair. The once-familiar comforts of home now felt suffocating, each room a silent witness to the turmoil raging within me.

I retreated to my bed, seeking refuge in its familiar embrace as I surrendered to the numbness that enveloped me. Days turned into weeks, the passage of time a blur as I lay there in the grip of prenatal depression, the world outside fading into insignificance.

Every day felt like a battle against an invisible enemy, my mind consumed by a relentless tide of negative thoughts and overwhelming emotions. The simplest of tasks became monumental challenges, each one a reminder of my own perceived inadequacies and failures.

 Clint hovered on the periphery of my existence, his concern palpable as he tried to reach out to me in my darkest moments. But the walls I had built around myself were impenetrable, my heart barricaded against the outside world in a futile attempt to shield myself from further pain.

I felt like a prisoner in my own mind, trapped in a never-ending cycle of despair and hopelessness. The weight of my depression pressed down on me like a leaden weight, crushing me under its unbearable heaviness.

But even in the depths of my despair, a small voice whispered to me, urging me to hold on, to keep fighting, to find a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. And though it seemed impossible at times, I clung to that flicker of light with every ounce of strength I had left.

In the silence of my room, I cried out for help, my voice a desperate plea for someone—anyone—to hear me, to see me, to help me find a way out of the darkness. 

After a few days,  I decided to get up. My clothes were soiled. I smelled bad. I hadn't eaten, I hadn't brushed my teeth. I hadn't even showered. I decided to get out of my bed. I walked slowly to the shower, hoping not to make any noise. As I got into the bathroom, I locked the door and put something under the knob. I didn't want to be bothered. I started the water, I wanted complete silence. 

I turned the shower handle, and decided to lay back. As the water cascaded over me, I closed my eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into my bones and wash away the heaviness that had settled over me like a suffocating blanket. The steady rhythm of the droplets against the porcelain provided a comforting backdrop to my thoughts, soothing the turmoil raging within me.

I lay there in the tub, the weight of my depression pressing down on me like a physical force, yet somehow feeling lighter in the embrace of the water. The steam filled the air, cocooning me in its warmth as I let myself drift, my mind a haze of conflicting emotions and memories.

But amidst the turmoil raging within me, I heard a faint knock at the door, followed by Clint's concerned voice calling out to me. I clenched my eyes shut, willing him to go away, to leave me to my own devices in the sanctuary of the bathroom.

But he persisted, his gentle inquiries growing more insistent with each passing moment. "Akilah, are you okay? Can you please open the door? I'm worried about you," he pleaded, his words barely audible over the rush of water.

I remained silent, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to shut out the outside world. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating in their proximity as I fought to hold onto the fragile threads of my sanity.

The water lapped gently against my skin, its gentle caress a reminder of the healing power of self-care and self-compassion. In the solitude of the bathroom, I allowed myself to simply be, free from the expectations and judgments of the outside world.
As I lay in the tub, the sound of running water drowned out the world around me, cocooning me in a bubble of solitude and isolation. The weight of my depression pressed down on me like a heavy blanket, leaving me adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions and memories.
But despite my best efforts to shut him out, Clint persisted, his concern a constant presence just beyond the closed door. And as the minutes stretched into eternity, I felt a flicker of guilt tug at my conscience, a nagging voice reminding me of the pain I was causing him with my silence.