I tell you, friends, this depression thing just sucks, sometimes.
It can come up on me at any moment and pull me down into a vortex of fear and anger that eventually has me feeling as if I’m no good for anything or anyone.
It’s usually triggered by me saying or doing something wrong (which is annoyingly often), but sometimes, all I have to do is think of something I said or did wrong, and down I go.
In that whirlpool of darkness, I see all my failures, all my insecurities, all my wounds, self-inflicted or not, and I feel irretrievably hopeless, and I wonder, really, what is the use, anymore?
It doesn’t make me suicidal, but it does sometimes have me longing for Mr. Grim Reaper to show up.
Because, in those times, I just feel so thoroughly worn down. And I’m ready to simply give up.
And then, it passes, just like always, and I’m back out of the vortex, and life goes on.
Yes, I’m on medication, yes, I see a therapist, but that doesn’t mean depression keeps its distance every hour of every day. Unfortunately.
I guess, the one good thing is that, having experienced this plenty of times, I’m self-aware enough at this point to know it will pass in time, and so, I just have to be in it for a little while, and it won’t result in me doing anything harmful.
Unless crying is harmful.
I’m telling you this for two reasons.
One, in the spirit of being honest with you about how frightening my otherwise wonderful life can sometimes be. (And it is mostly wonderful, really.)
And two, to assure any of you out there who think you can handle depression on your own:
No, you can’t.
I got help for it, and it can still knock me down, sometimes. If you try to beat it alone, it can kill you. Please, get help. There is no shame in doing that.
BTW, I’m doing just fine, today, thanks. At the moment.