I feel guilty, guilty that I feel sad, empty, useless, lost…. I could go on and on. When will this ever end? Will my tears ever stop from flowing? I’m usually the one trying to encourage someone else through this horrible, never ending (it seems) illness of depression. But today I need someone to encourage me and tell me it’s going to be okay and that I will get through this again.
As I write, tears stain my paper, I try to stop them but they won’t stop. The fear overpowers any thoughts that I may have. It awakens me from my sleep and panic starts to creep in. I tell myself it’s going to be okay, that I’m okay; but the fear tells me that maybe I’m relapsing. But I know I cannot let that happen; but how do I stop it from happening? For someone who has this disorder, it’s like saying I’m going to stop myself from getting cancer. Yes there are things we can do to help prevent both illnesses but we cannot stop it from happening. But I have to stop it! I/we will not survive another relapse. This illness can destroy anything in it’s path. Just like a raging forest fire; it can consume anything in it’s path.
I’m trying desperately to stay out of it’s path. To find a way to safety and refuge. It’s so hard to try and talk about how I am feeling. The words that would fall from my lips are not words you want to share. Words you just want to hide and never have to speak. But sometimes I just have to talk, to write, to blog; or if not, I would explode and drown in my own despair.
I’m wanting so desperately not to have to fight anymore. Why can’t I just ‘be’? I’m tired of fighting, tired of having to be what the world expects me to be. When in reality the last few days have been brutal, when behind my curtain of shame and guilt, I’m not feeling like the life of the party.
Why now? Why does it feel like I’m lost in a sea of desperation? Maybe I do have a lot on my plate; triggers that awaken my sleeping monster of depression. Overwhelmed by life itself but I have to be strong, be happy, be alive. When in reality, I feel depression as killed my spirit. Is there hope that my spirit can be revived? Can I resuscitate my deflated spirit? I must, I will, I shall!
Is it possible to rebuild and restore my broken spirit? It seems today is a day of questions but I need answers. I have to believe they will come. Maybe there are some questions that have no answers. Because they are questions, I guess doesn’t necessarily mean that they have answers. Maybe tomorrow will come with a renewed spirit, a mended broken heart, a new lease on life. There has to be a breakthrough, there just has to be!
I know I shouldn’t feel guilty because I’m having a bad few days. If I had any other illness, would I feel guilty? Why is it that mental illness is associated with so much guilt, shame and embarrassment? I’m hurting and in pain; and for that I will not apologize. I just live in hope that tomorrow will be better.
