Have you ever tried going the wrong way on an escalator or moving walkway? Remember how you go backwards when you stop trying? How difficult it is to make it to the other end?
The Depression has trapped me on one. I can't get off, I can't see where it ends, and every single damn time I make some progress, I don't get to relax and enjoy it, because the moment I stop fighting, I start losing ground again. To keep me on my toes, the speed changes. On bad days I have to run to just stay still, and I get exhausted really quickly. Some days it's almost almost like nothing's working against me, and I can get right on with life. Worst of all, is that suicidal thoughts are randomly hurling obstacles at me too.
Cruelly? I CAN'T FIND THE CONTROL BUTTONS. I wish I could explain the frustration of having a couple of great days; days the suicidal voices are easily pushed aside, days I can get out of bed and get to work without the Depression convincing me it's meaningless. Then; I'll face a day of struggle; a day of exhaustion, a day of worthlessness, of emptiness, and fighting. Fighting so damn hard to come up with reasons not to kill myself.
There are only so many times a day I can say "come on, you can do this" to myself, and keep going. A deep breath, and "come on, you can do this" has become my mantra.
Most days I can keep going long enough to do what I need to and go back to bed, even if it means whispering frequently to myself at work. The Depression has hold of me, but I can still see a path. "Come on, you can do this" will get me out of bed, "come on, you can do this" into the bathroom, "come on, you can do this" in the shower, come on, you can do this" in the car on the way to work, "come on, you can do this" when I can't concentrate at work, "come on, you can do this" when I just want to run away from the world, "come on, you can do this" instead of heading straight to bed.
The good days, I can be normal. The Depression has a light hold on me, I can work around it and keep going. I can grumble at the alarm, get ready for work, get there, be productive, be cheerful, come home, laugh, and join in. Those days I don't need to chivvy myself along, I want to do stuff.
Now and then, it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself "come on, you can do this". The Depression is limiting my view, I'm doing it on pure determination. Those days even getting to the bathroom is an achievement. "Come on, you can do this" pushes me to keep going, to go to work, to get stuff done. Those days are a struggle, I'm quiet, focused, white-knuckling it. Hanging on until I can come home, and go to bed.
The days I can't convince myself to say the words are the hardest, because those days? I can't, 'do this'. The Depression has blinded me to possibilities. I'm groping in the dark for something, anything good to hold on to. The worst days, are bad. They're the days of knowing how I'm going to end things. Being aware that my things are in order for family to process when I'm gone. The worst days are about hanging on to wake up tomorrow. I'm fighting my hardest to see through the Depression; for goodness, for light, for love, for support, but I'm blind. I know they're there, yet I can't see them. Those days, a random message from an old friend, a silly Facebook post, hearing good news about a friend, knowing my family want me around tomorrow; mean the most.
I don't always know what waking up will bring me. Maybe that's part of the reason I struggle to sleep?
Today is a bad day. I'm hanging in there.
Derri
The Depression has trapped me on one. I can't get off, I can't see where it ends, and every single damn time I make some progress, I don't get to relax and enjoy it, because the moment I stop fighting, I start losing ground again. To keep me on my toes, the speed changes. On bad days I have to run to just stay still, and I get exhausted really quickly. Some days it's almost almost like nothing's working against me, and I can get right on with life. Worst of all, is that suicidal thoughts are randomly hurling obstacles at me too.
Cruelly? I CAN'T FIND THE CONTROL BUTTONS. I wish I could explain the frustration of having a couple of great days; days the suicidal voices are easily pushed aside, days I can get out of bed and get to work without the Depression convincing me it's meaningless. Then; I'll face a day of struggle; a day of exhaustion, a day of worthlessness, of emptiness, and fighting. Fighting so damn hard to come up with reasons not to kill myself.
There are only so many times a day I can say "come on, you can do this" to myself, and keep going. A deep breath, and "come on, you can do this" has become my mantra.
Most days I can keep going long enough to do what I need to and go back to bed, even if it means whispering frequently to myself at work. The Depression has hold of me, but I can still see a path. "Come on, you can do this" will get me out of bed, "come on, you can do this" into the bathroom, "come on, you can do this" in the shower, come on, you can do this" in the car on the way to work, "come on, you can do this" when I can't concentrate at work, "come on, you can do this" when I just want to run away from the world, "come on, you can do this" instead of heading straight to bed.
The good days, I can be normal. The Depression has a light hold on me, I can work around it and keep going. I can grumble at the alarm, get ready for work, get there, be productive, be cheerful, come home, laugh, and join in. Those days I don't need to chivvy myself along, I want to do stuff.
Now and then, it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself "come on, you can do this". The Depression is limiting my view, I'm doing it on pure determination. Those days even getting to the bathroom is an achievement. "Come on, you can do this" pushes me to keep going, to go to work, to get stuff done. Those days are a struggle, I'm quiet, focused, white-knuckling it. Hanging on until I can come home, and go to bed.
The days I can't convince myself to say the words are the hardest, because those days? I can't, 'do this'. The Depression has blinded me to possibilities. I'm groping in the dark for something, anything good to hold on to. The worst days, are bad. They're the days of knowing how I'm going to end things. Being aware that my things are in order for family to process when I'm gone. The worst days are about hanging on to wake up tomorrow. I'm fighting my hardest to see through the Depression; for goodness, for light, for love, for support, but I'm blind. I know they're there, yet I can't see them. Those days, a random message from an old friend, a silly Facebook post, hearing good news about a friend, knowing my family want me around tomorrow; mean the most.
I don't always know what waking up will bring me. Maybe that's part of the reason I struggle to sleep?
Today is a bad day. I'm hanging in there.
Derri
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