My depressing battle with my depressed mind
I don’t remember the last time my mind was silent.
It took me forever to open up about my depression, even to myself. I acknowledged it too late and I am dealing with it now. This is how I feel, my personal experience with depression, and how I have come to understand that sharing it does make it better, I promise. So, without further due, welcome to my battle.
I think my depression and I have been acquainted for a long, long time. But only in recent years, its claw-like presence began to shadow over my mind, my spirit and obviously, my life.
My mind feels in pain and angst and I cannot remember a time when my thoughts felt at peace and my own words did not break through me.
The sadness that overcomes me sometimes does feel unbearable. But, as a quote once said, we must sleep away the sadness of today, right?
I am currently a Masters’ student. I’m afraid that I will not be able to deliver on my goals. And I have so, so many. But although one hour of therapy represents one of the few “happy hours” of my week, my relapse into the arms of my old friend is even sharper, more aggressive and, unfortunately, longer.
I know what you all may think. Pick yourself up, right?
Right, I admit. I try to pick myself up every single moment I collapse because life does not wait for anyone to get better. Of course, people may or may not understand, give you time to heal etc., but life passes by, youth passes by and before you know it, someone else reached the goals, wishes, dreams you have. And that thought, at least for me, is utterly maniacal. But how do I take care of myself? How do I shut the voice of depression in my own head? It gutters me. I take my showers, I exfoliate, sometimes nurture myself with healthy food, I go to work, to my classes and all the others. But I do all these while wishing I was dead. Not in a suicidal way, but in the “what’s the point of all this anyway?”. My old friend tells me that I am worthless, ugly, fat, stupid and unloved. However, the slim and barely sparkly rational voice inside my head tells me that this is bollocks. I know love. I know a happy, lucky and—if you want—fulfilled life. I have it. But inside, it feels like a fire that burns everything down. No. Wrong. A fire that has burned everything down already. And I’m no phoenix at this point, but how I wish I was.
I want my old self back again.
My introverted, but not depressed self. My eyes that are mine, not my inner’s critic merciless eyes. I do want to be someone else. Someone I left behind maybe three years ago? I am looking for that girl everywhere. Sometimes, she peeks her lovely little red-haired head in my soul and reassures me she is still there. Well, here. But it looks like an insidious, psychopathic game is being played between my own ghost and my full-time tenant these days. Striving to see which one of them gets to me first.
But hey, let’s not all be gloomy.
This is for you. My fellow sad souls.
See how I did not use the word “people”, but souls. Because this is what we are. But you know what else we are?
We are warriors of our own minds and heroes of our loved ones. We are the ones that understand the deepest meanings of life and we are the philosophy of existentialists. We are the beautiful, broken smiles that put things aside and still help others. We are the sad, teary eyes that cannot be disguised. But teary eyes are glitter eyes because they open the portal to our mind and soul for everyone to see the destroying fire burning in the back of our tired heads. Everyone will see, but not everyone will get it. We are the ones that recognised our pains and transformed it into art. We drag our lives. But oh, how we’ll unburden ourselves one day and laugh from the bottom of our hearts.