This is what depression feels like. Being here, in the middle of love and light and laughter and feeling like you are observing another world.
You know that world is real and your world isn’t. You want to be a part of that world. But you don’t know how… you don’t know how to bridge that gap and cross that void.
It’s lonely here, on the outside looking in. It seems like an easy thing to stand up, to join in. But there’s a weight, an anchor, dragging you backwards. There’s a cloud of self-deprecation taunting you, telling you not to even bother to try.
This picture was taken at my cousin’s perfect wedding. I remember loving the love, the perfection. I also remember feeling like an observer. Like I could never be part of the dance floor.
———————
I’ve always had it all. I do not deny the fortune with which I am blessed. I grew up in an idyllic family. I have never wanted for a need. I am surrounded always by love. I am smart, I am driven, I am capable, I am physically healthy…
Yet, I struggle. I struggle against something I don’t understand. Nothing has broken me; I was born this way. I was born with this little broken part, this tiny hole, that leads to a chasm of loneliness and sadness. I was born with this gateway to feeling too much, too deeply, to absorbing and holding on to too much emotion.
There are times when I can close the lid, cover the hole. There are days and weeks and months and sometimes years when I can seal it off. But there are also times when the latch breaks, when the seal loosens.
When this happens, I can sometimes push the feelings down, dull them. Sometimes this is done with staying busy. Busy, busy, busy and I don’t have time to feel. There’s not a chance to wallow in the murk when I don’t slow down enough to fall in. The problem is that I can’t go forever, I can’t run away because there is an elastic leash, and when I get to the end it snaps me back, deep into the hole. When I fall, I am drained. There’s no energy left to push back out.
Sometimes I can close the lid by numbing. Eat until the hole feels closed. Eat until the only thing I feel is full, no room to feel the emptiness of the hole. This, too, only lasts so long until misery and reality set in. When I realize there’s no end to the hole, no way to pack enough in to close it, I just feel sick and sad and even more defeated than before.
Sometimes I close the lid by sleeping. When I am sleeping, I feel nothing. When I am sleeping, I am alone, in a made up world where anything is possible and nothing is real. It’s glorious but, paradoxically, exhausting. The more I sleep the more I want to sleep. The more I sleep, the less I let myself feel anything real. The feelings don’t leave, though. They are waiting by the bed; they are lurking in the room. And the real world does need me. I must get up; I must face the day.
There are things I know: I know none of this makes any sense. I know I have so many things to be thankful for, to enjoy, to embrace. I know I am loved. I know I should be happy.
Somehow, knowing this sometimes makes me feel lonelier, worse. It makes me feel like hiding, because I can’t get should be and am to come together and I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want others to think I’m not grateful or that I don’t care. I don’t want people to give up on me.
_______________
People like me, we need your patience. We need your support. We need you to stand strong beside us even when we push away a little. We need you to throw us a rope, a lifeline. Help us scale the walls of this cavern, one step at a time. Sometimes we may move slowly, make little progress. I know we will frustrate you. Sometimes we may resist, get sucked back down a bit. We need you to fight for us.
Please know we are trying. Please know we see you; you give us strength. Please know we are fighting, too.