Darkness falls around me like a shroud. It’s not the darkness I fear but the night. My dreams are haunted by the never ending trauma of my past. But yet I sleep to escape the torment of the day, a reprieve from reality. My nightmares devour my only since of peace. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be different; peace and calm will flood my mind leaving no space for terror. How I long for peace of mind, the end to my battlefield, the never ending struggle to just survive. Depression and anxiety has stolen anything that resembles a ‘normal’ life. It is my deepest longing to just be okay, to just feel ‘normal’ for once, to love life.
Morning comes again bringing with it the light of a new day. But I know today will be a struggle, most days are, some worse then others. I know this all sounds horrible and who would want to read such depressing and hopeless accounts of a day in the life of a struggling mentally ill person. But it is what it is! Try living with it for day in and day out. Not much fun believe me. I guess when I say mentally ill, many people conjure up ideas of a ravenous lunatic, an out of control insane person. But depression/anxiety is probably the exact opposite. Depression for me can be compared to being in a constant state of grief, that never really goes away. And this so interferes with the function of life’s everyday tasks and stresses. Life as to move on but it’s like I’m always trying to play catch up, but I never really do.
I can’t remember how many times I’ve said I’m fine just because I didn’t want to burden others with just how I was really feeling. Ashamed to admit to the truth of how I really felt. So everyday I fight, fight to be okay. But I’m tired, tired of being strong when really I’m not strong at all. The ‘cover’ to my book may look great on the outside but on the inside it’s ripped and torn. So like the old saying goes, ‘Never judge a book by it’s cover’. Afraid that if I open the cover, the pages of my heart would fall out for all the world to see, and if they saw maybe they would judge me and consider it all weakness. When all along I know it can’t be weakness, I ‘know’ it’s not weakness but my mind tells me it is. And everyday I tell myself, over and over again, that it’s not what I feel but what I know. I cannot live my life by feelings but what I know to be the truth. And to live with this hellish disorder of the brain; I have to be strong in order to survive.
Tomorrow may be a ‘good’ day and by a good day I am not defining it by those who do not suffer from a mental illness, there’s no comparison. I live my life by hope, hoping that tomorrow will be a good day. If I lost my will to hope, I would have nothing left but an empty well of darkness. So I will press on, I will not quit the fight, even when overwhelming fatigue and exhaustion have left me lifeless; I will not give in. I will fight for my life. To those who are struggling and feel like you have no hope, take it from me, if I can do it, then so can you. I believe in you!
