It’s mid afternoon on a beautiful sunny day; I’ve been tortured ever since my eyes were opened to this new day. I knew something was different about today, something more then usual. I felt scared, scared of what? Scared of my own mind and where it was taking me! Most days I can control my thoughts, but not today. My mental illness, my depression, my thorn in the flesh had unleashed its fury and I was in for a fight. A fight that I was afraid I would not win!
My feet hit the floor , I assumed position, knowing I had to face another day. But what was so bad about the day? I was alive, I had a great family, life could be a lot worse but my mind didn’t care about all the good stuff. It only wanted me to see the bad, the ugly, the dark and scary stuff. I tried with all that was within me to distract my dark thoughts but they were winning and I was afraid of where I was heading. Was this going to be a place that I could not pull myself out of. A place that I had no control over.
I hid my shame, my weakness, my fear. On the inside I was a wreak, fighting again this lion within. While on the outside I was a picture of health, a ball of energy, as I meticulously manicured the lawn; just like ‘normal’ people do. But I was feeling anything but normal as I tried my best to be just okay.
There seemed to be no end , the dark , distorted thoughts were holding my mind captive and I just could not escape. No amount of distractions could free me, even for a moment. Were these the same thoughts that invaded the mind of the young lady who tried desperately to take her life but did not succeed or the young man who felt he had no other options left but to end this hell, once and for all. I can’t say I don’t understand why they would do such a thing. I would be the last to pass judgement, the last to question why?
I am so sick and tired of this mind disorder, so tired of this chronic, hellish torment. Hate is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel toward this illness. It is the only illness I know of that steals your desire to live; you live in a body that the mind is trying to kill, a slow, silent death. It sucks your will to live out of you, to a point where life means nothing to you anymore. It makes me angry because someone with cancer are fighting for their life but someone with severe depression is just wanting to die!
I want to live life to the fullest, surviving is not living and when you suffer a mental illness; that’s all you are doing, just surviving. Major depression has taken so much from me, it has stripped me of my self worth, my confidence, my zest for life, my memories and time that I will never get back. And for that, I hate depression, I hate what it has done to me. But I still fight every day, no matter how exhausting, I will fight til I can fight no more. Never giving up hope that one day I will tame this beast of my mind! Hope is what keeps me going, hope is what gives me the will to fight.