D is for Depression

Depression is starring into a magnifying mirror of life in which everything grows but you. The longer that your eyes gawk into the reflection, the more monstrous your stress and anxiety become while you shrink into a microscopic dot. As you widen your eyes and look closer, you'll notice your failures and faults scooching into the picture and bumping out your accomplishments. No matter which way you rotate the mirror, your world becomes a dark, hostile place because you're in the middle of an image that has negative perceptions stamped all over it: BAD, EMPTY, FAKE, SELFISH, WORTHLESS, UNTALENTED, DISGUSTING, STUPID, NOTHING. NOTHING. NOTHING... What's worse is these words don't only violate your self-image, but also manifest throughout your other senses. You can hear the words whispering to you in the wind; soon enough, they seize and conquer your thoughts. Feeling escapes your fingers and you become numb; all you feel is the unbearable pain that the demon in your mind inflicts. Your saliva tastes vile. Every breath that you take is poison. You are left thinking, How can people look at the world and not get depressed? Why couldn't I just have never been born, since everything would've been better off without me? How could've I have been happy before? Was I faking all of it? Is everyone else just living in lies? Or is it just me? Was I made to suffer? There is no place in this world for me, is there... This catastrophic thinking is a vicious avalanche tumbling you down a steep hill. It's insanity. It's torture. You are falling, but will never crash land. You are bleeding, but you will never bleed out. You're eyes are closed, but you will never peacefully rest. Loved ones will say, "Don't cry. Just talk to me." Except, crying is the only way to show that you haven't been worse, and you never could explain all your feelings in words. This is only the beginning.

Depression is struggling to blow away with your own breath clouds that are pouring acid rain. Thick, dark clouds accumulate and fog over your brain. The acid rain stings and burns every surface of your mind, venom and agony in every single drop. You can huff and puff, but it will take every ounce of your breath and energy to move the clouds. Zoning out of your mind and back into life, your work is sitting in front of you, and the main ideas slip from your memory. Fatigue droops your eyes. Your limbs feel like tons. Gravity tugs on your weight. Every minute feels like eternity. Even if you succeed in blowing away the clouds, the storm will not have been calmed. It will huddle in the deep recesses of your mind. Just when you remember how to smile, a great flood will wash over and submerge your mind. You will be drowning but will never drown. Friends and family will try to shower you with love and compliments. However, their words are swallowed by whirlpools in the flood. Your judgement suffers and you don't believe that you deserve an ounce of love or affection. They can say that you are SMART, FUNNY, BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED, WORTHY, SUCCESSFUL, HARD-WORKING, LOVED. LOVED. LOVED. Only, these benign words fuel and agitate the storm, getting sucked up by the clouds and released as more acid rain. You can't remember what ever made you happy and the person that you used to be, as you hate the person that you have become. What's more is that you feel guilty for not trying hard enough to save yourself from the flood and swim to shore; and lonely for pushing away your friends because you feel as though your negative energy is a burden: this further perpetuates the vicious cycle. Then in solitude, you cry tears that cry tears, only adding more salt and volume to the flood. The flood can only recede through tears that you shed on Mommy's shoulder; from the warmth emanating from the embrace of a friend; by the obnoxious laughter induced by a loved one; and with the breath you use to describe feelings extracted from the pits of your mind.

Depression is stretching for the key to happiness with your fingertips an inch away while your other hand is chained to a wall. Say the flood has been gradually receding, and now you can see hope. Your head is finally above the water, and you can float. You can interact with your friends again, and you feel genuine when your muscles spread a smile. Still, there is something holding you back. While you are glad to find have found out that recovery is possible, the impending relapse makes you sweat. Every moment that you spend with your best friend, cousin, or mother takes more effort to be as significant as you long for it to be: some laughs are forced and you struggle to keep conversation. You neither wouldn't say that you are depressed, nor that happiness is a success: the key to happiness is in sight, but it seems impossible to obtain. You can't say that you feel trapped in darkness, but not that light is shining to your heart's ends either. You don't mean that you are lost, yet the more that you swim toward the supposed shore, the farther away it floats. The ominous thought of your depression being triggered again shallows your breath and squeezes your stomach, but the reality is that remnants of your negative thoughts are over bearing; dense mist still conceals a portion of your mind; and depression can call your name louder than happiness can. The worst of all? It never truly ends.

P.S. There definitely is hope for everyone suffering and I know because I've survived. But when I was writing this, I was in the mindset of how I was when mine was severe. When it's so bad, you don't feel like there ever is an out. Now, I've found it and though I am still struggling at times to keep the door open, I know that I can fight it if it ever closes again. Stay strong and be victorious.