Explaining my depression to my mother is exactly the same as trying to explain the reason the sky is blue to a 3 year old.
i tell her that my depression traps me, the world is my cage, and she says to me how can you feel trapped in a cage thats so big?
i tell her that my anxiety stops me asking for help because in my mind i know that im just a burden, she asks me where my anxiety came from?
i tell her anxiety is the ugly cousin depression invited to the party along with insomnia and paranoia.
my mum says thats a good idea why dont you go to a party?
i say its a metaphor mum the party is my brain and none of them were invited, but now they're here i cannot ask them to leave.
mum says to me maybe you need to make plans, go on a date, meet a man, i say to her i cannot leave my house it is my prison, and yet i cant invite anyone back here because its safe.
mum says get up sweetie, all you do is sleep and i tell her that i have to sleep becaue the only way that i feel sane is when im dreaming because my dreams are realer than the reality im dreaming everyday when im awake.
my dreams are dark and scary but i know they arent real, a figment of my imagination. the pain i live, the reality i live everyday is that i am stuck here in this eternal labrynth of suffereing that i will never be able to escape from because i am lost.
my mum tells me to see my friends and i tell her that i make plans and i want to go but then i remember that they give me false hope, they tell me i will be okay but i know that i wont. temporarily they make me feel sane again, temporarily they make me feel like im okay until i go to sleep and open my eyes the next day and physically cannot lift myself out of bed because i am shackled like a slave.
because i am a slave mum, im a slave to this. it will not let me go. i work this illness daily and do not get paid with money, instead i am paid with sadness, with gut wrenching thoughts about what i would do if i was actually okay, and the pain that hits me when i realise i will NEVER be okay.
mu says to me why dont you eat properly and i tell her the thought of food makes me feel sick, i tell her that the idea of even having a knife in my hand to prepare food makes me a threat to my own arteries. i tell my mum that cutting myself is not pathetic. i tell her that its how i release these feelings and she says they dont need to be released because they arent there.
she tells me im good at making something out of nothing and i dont know how to respond to that because, its not nothing this is everything. this is everyday this is everything i eat sleep and breathe. depression engulfs me, it drowns me, it makes me feel as though i cannot breathe even though i have the perfect amount of air. it makes me feel as though im suffocating on my own feelsing as i gasp for air i sink further and further the feelings are taking over and my mum still does not understand.
i tell my mum a milliom times that i need help and she offers the same each time, the same advice, go to a doctor get medication
flight response
get a hobby do something that makes you feel more you
flight response
get a boyfriend go on dates itll make you happy
flight response
dot dot dot
flight response
dot dot dot
flight response
DOT DOT DOT
FLIGHT RESPONSE
until i cannot run anymore
until i cannot breathe anymore
until i collapse in a heap on the floor yet i am still standing
flight response.
she tells me to join a yoga class with her on a wednesday. i agree to it because explaining my depression to my mother is the same as trying to explain to a three year old why the sky is blue.
YOU ARE READING
deep inside of me
Poetrya small book of things i feel, its mostly just rambling but thats how it comes out of my head onto paper
