Is it strength that gets me out of bed each morning or stupidity? Many would long ago have conceded the war and given up but somehow I rise from my slumber and rely on my careful routines I have in place to guide me through my day.
If not for those routines which are so hard to break, I with I would be dead. That which is me would have ceased to be long ago.
Maybe I have ceased to exist and all that is left is an automaton, a ghost moving through this world, for I do not feel or take pleasure in its presence. It has turned grey and distant, a surreal haze I pass through as I pretend to be a full functioning person.
A line exists from my feet, a line I must follow. It is a line of deception, a way to hide the darkness, the depths of this violent ocean that threaten to crush me into the ground. It presses against me and the bright line is all that exists in a void of madness and demons.
This line holds no comfort for it represents not hope but hopelessness. There is no hope that I will find a way out and that only the ocean will grow heavier as I sink further into its cold emptiness.
Yet it is not empty. The demons laugh at the struggle. Each foot forward is a war won, or perhaps lost for the line drags at my feet with such force that I must step forward. One foot then another. One foot then another.
Long ago I lost the ability to choose. Now the line is all that exists. It is my comfort and my curse. It has decided my fate. Darkness waits.
There is only one choice now.
There is only one end.
The last choice is mine to make. Always mine to make.
When the end is reached well that is always my decision.
Do I have the strength to go on? To carry this weight upon weakening shoulders? The weight is crushing.
The line grows dim and in the growing darkness the demons laugh.
The know they have won.
A piece written in one of my darkest moments. Depression is a word so many have heard but so few understand. Above is a glimpse into the world of someone who is severely depressed.
Depression is not the feeling of being down or sad. Depression is so much more than that. To define depression as feeling sad would be like calling an elephant a chair. They are two different things. I can be sad that my cat died but depression is an illness that grips you in two hands and can cripple you.
The purpose of this blog is to focus on mental health issues such as anxiety and depression. I suffer from both due to a condition called Asperger's syndrome. This is also combined with hypothyroidism. These two conditions mean that depression and anxiety will forever be part of my life and no magic pill will vanish them in an instant. There is no cure so to speak for either of these conditions.
I hope that through blogging about my own experiences I will be able to educate and perhaps reach out to others who suffer in silence. Mental health can be so well hidden it would difficult to identify everyone who had it.
My thoughts for this post are this:
Tomorrow, after reading this post, I would like you to go out into the world and look around and think to yourself "some of these people suffer in silence. How many could it be?" I don't know the answer but I could guarantee you it would be more than you think.
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