This an essay that I wrote a few months ago, just for me. I never really planned on sharing it, but I think it captures the multiple essences of what depression is like. Enjoy.
Sometimes, all you can do is lie in bed, and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.William C. Hannan
He had been gone for so long at this point. Over 2 years. So much he had missed out on: birthdays, holidays, celebrations, big milestones. My first kiss, my first day of Sophomore and Junior year, my first driving lesson.
Sure, I still hurt. I still cried. I still missed him. But I had found my groove; a way to live without him. I wasn’t canceling plans to go Ice Skating with friends because I was “exhausted.”
It was like one day, when I woke up, all of it went to complete shit.
I hid my depression really well. Like really, really well. I put on fake smiles when needed, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, splashed cold water on my face to try and reduce the puffiness. I lived my life to the outside world.
I think I wanted to save my depression for myself. I didn’t want to share. Growing up as a twin, nothing ever really felt like mine. But this, this was mine.
Everyone always acted like depression was this big, dark cloud that loomed over their head. Kept them from getting up in the morning or working out or putting on makeup. But for me, depression, at least in the beginning, was sweet. Like dessert.
It kept me sheltered from reality. Protected me from all of the heartbreak I had already experienced at such a young age.
I felt good, oddly, for the first time in a long time. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t sleep deprived, I wasn’t praying to god to take all the hurt away. I had a door I could hide behind; a life I could hide from.
But that sweetness didn’t last, and my depression went from dessert to poison rather quickly. That door became a cage, and soon I was trapped, banging on the metal bars, screaming and crying, with my voice unable to carry through.
Even as a little girl, I was sweet and silly and goofy. I had a big heart. My depression tainted all of that. I became closed off, reserved, and selfish. I was also angry, moody, and lacking motivation. I stopped exercising, which was weird for me because the gym was my happy place. Work was supposed to be the best part of my day, but it just felt like I was going through the motions.
I knew that there was something wrong with me, (though I didn’t want to admit it), something that couldn’t be fixed with a bandaid or a kiss on the cheek. I was suffering, breaking down every night, but still I fought any and all requests to receive help. This was not the first time I had felt like I had hit rock bottom; I just didn’t want to believe that I wasn’t alright.