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.

My Obituary: Part I

Last night I thought about death.  Death and dying are subjects I try not to think about.  I believe that when we die, we cease to exist--or at least our consciousness ends.  That thought absolutely terrifies me.  I am scared of not being anymore.  So I stay away from the thought.  I know that I do need to explore my thoughts and feelings about death.  It's a difficult one to tackle, though.

I've seen an exercise before where you write your own obituary.  It's supposed to be a way for you to write how you want to live your life.  What would you have wanted to accomplish before death?  How would other people have seen your life?

I'm not sure if I can encapsulate my life in a couple of paragraphs.  But I like the idea.  So for now, let me start with words that I would like to be included.  These are words that I would like to come to people's minds when they think of me:

bold

daring

explorer

world traveler

empathy

renaissance woman

loving

mother

wife

passionate

educator

dynamic

embraced life

artist

creative

soul

a light in the dark

I live up to some of these more than others.  I guess I have some work to do if I want to embody these words in my life!