I’m depressed

I’m depressed.

I hate saying the words so much that they taste foul in my mouth. They stick behind my tongue and teeth because they just don’t want to come out. But it’s the truth.

I’m really fucking depressed.

depression_hole_by_nella7122-d5uxvlrI came to the realization in a Walmart parking lot when I had the thought that I hate my life. Not any particular aspect of my life, but ALL OF IT. I couldn’t find one positive thing to hold onto in that moment. Obviously upon reflection there are many positive things in my life. I have a loving husband, a great family, a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and money in the bank. I have more to be grateful for than most people, but it’s like my brain is incapable of processing it. It’s like having a black hole in my heart that sucks out all of the light and positivity from my life until I’m left in total darkness.

So I find myself crying all the fucking time. I cry over the stupidest things. I cry as I fold laundry. I cry in the grocery store when they’re out of something I want to buy. I cry silently in the shower so that no one will hear me and wonder what’s wrong. I cry because I don’t want to be depressed again. But it’s no use. Depression is here like an uninvited house guest and I don’t think it’s leaving any time soon.

anxiety___depression___vent_art___by_psychopathic_dj-d7a33ky-861And despite having a subconscious feeling that the depression was there, I couldn’t express it. I didn’t want to express it. As if admitting to it somehow made it more real. I want to be well so badly that i just kept pushing it down. I want to return to work. Push it down. I want to have my life back. Push it down. I want to stop this seemingly endless cycle of treatment and relapse. Push it down. And so I pushed it further and further until it had to bubble up. And the dark thoughts start. Thoughts of self-harm. Thoughts of dying. Thoughts of wanting the pain to end. Thoughts that tell me I’m worthless and stupid.

The dark thoughts nag at you. It’s like having a sore in your mouth. It’s painful to the touch, but you can’t stop probing it with your tongue. The thoughts are irrational and menacing. I can’t stop them. They’re on a never ending loop. They follow me around like a shadow as I cry through my day. They’re unwanted but the more I push them away the harder they try. The stronger they become and the weaker I get, bowing under their weight. At what point will I break?

So I’m depressed, but I’m doing all the things you’re supposed to crawl out. I see my therapist, I see my psychiatrist, I take my medication, I exercise, I eat healthy, I sleep 8 hours a day, I don’t drink alcohol, and I try and find the joy that exists in my life. It’s not easy, but I keep fighting because what’s the alternative?

8 thoughts on “I’m depressed

  1. I just want to offer you endless solidarity and love right now. You are beautiful and necessary and worthy, as are these words that you’ve shared. I know that these things I’m saying can feel empty, because depression can make it *all* feel empty, but I at least want you to know that you’re cared for. ❤ If I can do anything to help, don't hesitate to reach out.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Even though things don’t feel like it right now but it does get better, you may have a hard time believing it right now but you will find yourself back in the light again. I got your back while you’re going through this, to remind you that you are loved and valued by the people around you. So hang in there and embrace the small victories you make, like getting up each morning is a day you won and depression lost.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m glad you keep fighting. Everything you say resonates with me, especially right now, and I continue to pretend I’m okay. So I fell ya honey. Just keep fighting because we need warriors like you around.

    Liked by 1 person

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