mental health, Uncategorized

When it Comes Crawling Back

Depression is a sneaky little piece of shit. I had a great day yesterday, and woke up feeling great about today. Yet, as I sit here, I can feel it crawling back into my skin. Just sinking deep into the parts of me that were perfectly fine just hours ago. 

It all started with a lie. “You’re not really their family, matter of fact, your family is not even really your family. If they were, wouldn’t they be here? Wouldn’t they make you feel loved? You’ve got no one.”

At that moment, my first urge was to text my best guy friend and thank him for being there for me. But, I figured he’d think it’s weird and random, maybe he’d think I was seeking attention, so I didn’t send him a message.  

Instead, I’ve been chain smoking, chain drinking coffee, and chain ordering things online to numb my pain. My best friend posted a photo of her and her newborn and all I could think was, “I’m not important enough to get my own photo.” This, after she has told me she wants me to visit and after she’s asked me to give them a ride home from the hospital. Yet, because I didn’t get a photo before facebook my mind instantly felt sorry for me, making me into this pathetic, self-loathing shell of a person. 

Just within 2 hours and I’m feeling the affects of depression. I remember being content and happy at 10am. Where did that go? I was so ready for my day, then depression started crawling back. I can’t get it off of me. No one has done anything wrong by me, nothing has even happened, yet here I sit. Emotionless. 

I don’t feel sad, I was feeling anxious but, not anymore. I don’t feel the slightest ounce of joy that my new niece is in this world and I can stop hearing about all the gross things that have to do with pregnancy. I feel empty. I feel alone. I feel useless. 

Just at the beginning of this past week, I felt accomplished even through my depression. I had written things for other people. I had begun to build a portfolio of my work. Yet, now it’s like those things had never happened. It’s like nothing has ever changed. The boxes I cleaned up, the progress I made, the joy I felt… all gone. Nothing remains. 

All I can hear are the overwhelming lies being fed to me through depression. All, of course, hard to tell are lies because they’re based off of true facts. 

My parents don’t ever call me first, I never get invited over to dinner. They must not want me anymore, they must not care. 

The guy I like doesn’t like me back, he must know there’s something wrong with me. He must know how many times people have gotten me to believe I’m worthless. 

My toxic person can no longer contact me, I must be everything he said I was. Maybe I am crazy, maybe I am obsessed, maybe I am a worthless waste of something. 

I’m not actually related to my friends I consider family, they’re probably tired of me butting in where I don’t belong. Inviting myself over, calling their daughters my nieces. 

I don’t have a place to be on Halloween, Thanksgiving, or even Christmas. I probably won’t even get to have a birthday dinner with my own father. I don’t belong, I’ll just be inviting myself over to places I’m not needed. Places I’m not wanted. 

Depression lies. These are just some of the lies. But because it takes the truth and twists it, it makes it that much harder not to believe. 

Depression leaves you feeling isolated. Yet, you feel as though you’re a burden and that you are not wanted, so you just isolate yourself even more. It’s a vicious cycle that this illnesss makes. It convinces you that you are nothing, even when you know you are something. It’s a physical pain, an emptiness, that leaves you wanting to feel anything, just anything at all.  

But there is hope, there is hope in recovery. I saw and felt that hope this morning. And within a couple hours, I can no longer see it. But I hold onto the fact that I KNOW I felt it this morning. I know for a fact there will be more hope again. I will see the light again, it may takes minutes or it may take years. One day, I’ll see the hope again. I just have to hang on. 

This is the part of recovery I struggle with the most. It’s been 5 days since I last self-harmed. It’s been 4 days since I felt the weight of depression lift off of my shoulders, and now it’s back without cause. I’m still in this battle. I’m still fighting strong. There will be a day I can say I’m recovered. I know it in my soul. 



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