"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friday, October 10, 2014

Depression is an Asshat

Pardon my language but depression is a total motherfucker.  It's insidious.  I've been spiraling downward so slowly that I honestly didn't even see it coming this time.  I didn't know how deeply I would bury myself inside my shell and call it protection.  And now I'm a combination of old scars, scabs, and fresh wounds--figurative of course.  And I can't tell friend from foe.  I can't even tell if I really have friends.  Everything looks false.  The only thing I know to be true is that depression lies.  And I hold on to that truth for dear fucking life.  I cling and I cling and I keep holding on and I hope that I come out on the other side.

Sometimes in the deepest, darkest parts of my mind I hope for death.  I don't think so much of killing myself--I'm too squeamish for that, and I could never, ever hurt the people I love like that.  Maybe it isn't so much death but oblivion.  I just want the world to go completely dark.  I want peace.  I want the suffering to end.  I want my depression to end.  I think about getting in an accident or getting hurt so that I will be put somewhere and they will take care of me for awhile.  And then that scares me.  And I worry that I'm crazy.  And these are just tiny thoughts in my head that I almost never think.  And I would never actually do any of these things.  I would never actually hurt myself.  I would never actually kill myself or hurt myself or do anything to hurt anyone else.  But I am a little broken.  And I have some broken thoughts.  And I know I am not alone, no matter how much I feel like I am.

I think the worst thing about depression is that I can't talk about my depression.  I feel like if I tell someone that I think about death then they will either think I am going to try to kill myself (which I am not) or they will think I am just trying to get attention (which I am not).  What I am instead hoping for is for human contact and understanding.  I don't want to feel alone anymore.  I want to feel like I am allowed to say that I suffer from depression (and have for the last 22 years) and for the world to not think I'm either absolutely nutballs or attention-seeking.

I'm tired.  I'm lonely.  I'm in pain.  I'm depressed.  Everything around me is warped and tinted with my depression-tinted lenses.  The funny thing is that I know this.  And I actually want to stop it.  And I see it happening.  I just can't even tell truth from lies.  And I don't know how to like or love myself enough to stop.  I will keep trying though.  Because I do want to live.  I do want to feel better.  And I want to punch depression in the face.

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