I was sitting on the beige couch in the living room. The TV’s playing Modern Family reruns on mute. My heart beats in my chest like it’s trying to escape. I wish I could run away, myself. Disappear off the face of the earth. The dreadful conversation starts something like this:
Look, For once can't you just be merry.
I don’t understand. What do you mean?
I mean, no talk about how I give you joy and whatnot .
Just be yourself.
I was totally lost and caught off-guard, i never saw that coming, ever! That was most disturbing ... We fail to remember that Nobody’s perfect. Depression is a shape-shifting, ever-present monster. It is a monster that many battle; some slay the beast, others are swallowed whole, sacrificing life and limb to its gaping jaws, but most are stuck in an eternal stalemate, neither winning nor losing. I think I fall in this category; I've struggled with depression for years on end, often I feel like I've finally won the battle but I always face the harsh reality that I may live this way through my Life.
My depression took the form of a dense gray fog, obscuring all of my senses and causing me to heave and choke, unable to catch my breath. It was a python as thick as a tree, squeezing the life out of me, tightening with every move I made. It was a cancer in every one of my cells; a dull ache that couldn’t be numbed. It was every one of my worst fears realized, ready to pounce as soon as I woke every morning from night after night of restless, soul consuming insomnia paradoxically paired with bone-deep exhaustion. It wasn’t poetic, it was dirty and lonely ,terrifying and full of tears no one could hear. It was the knowledge that the monster couldn’t get to me, that the pain would stop if I just died. But despite all of my imagery, it was not poetic. It was not lyrical. It wasn’t a heroic effort to maintain a grip on reality or sanity. It was a quest to conquer the monster and stay alive.
I was prescribed anti-depressant after anti-depressant, each one worse than the last. They obliterated any ability to feel anything, leaving a black void that let the suicidal thoughts come screaming to the forefront of my mind, without anything to distract me. I swallowed five sleeping pills, and woke up the next morning not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed. I was taken off the drugs after.
By far the worst part of depression wass the response from people without depression. I wanted to scream at everyone who told me to “just smile” or “try talking to someone.” Everyone was always trying to fix me. I didn’t need fixing. I needed someone who cared enough to hold me until I could breathe. I needed someone to talk to and trust me to be able to fight this monster. Im well aware this monster may be bigger and stronger and smarter than me, but keeping it at bay is possible. I'm sure I'll live through this though**
Thanks for Reading…