I haven’t written here in a long time and honestly I have no excuses for it.
Now I am about to try and begin writing again and this might be the hardest post I written yet but I feel it needs to be done.
For weeks, maybe months, the blog had been a graveyard of unfinished posts. Titles like “Finding Joy in the Everyday” and “Gratitude Journaling for a Brighter Tomorrow” lay dormant, mocking my own inability to achieve the very things I was supposedly writing about.
Now they all sit in my trash never to see the light of the day, and the reason for that is because recently I have been fighting with depression. It’s still there it hasn’t gone away but learning to love with it and get through each day despite how I feel has been the biggest of all challenges.
That is not to say each day is bad, there are good days where I feel fine and also bad days they tend to go hand in hand with one another and until I open my eyes each morning I have no idea which one is going to make an appearance.
“Depression. It’s not always what you think.”
They tell you it’s staying in bed all day. And sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s forcing myself to get up, to shower, to eat, to smile – all while feeling like a marionette whose strings are being pulled by a disinterested puppeteer. The effort it takes to simply exist is exhausting.
I am constantly reminded of the guilt, the crushing weight of expectation. The expectation to be present, to be productive, to be happy.
“They tell you it’s wanting to die. And sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s just wanting the noise to stop. The incessant chatter in my head, the self-doubt, the fear, the crippling anxiety that whispers I’m not good enough, not worthy, not… anything.”
Some days I feel nothing, that would be the best way to describe it. When in fact it’s not nothing because feeling nothing would be feeling something, it’s rather hard to try and explain but I know what I mean. Those days are just filled with emptiness and a lack of existence.
It’s not linear. It’s not a straight line down. It’s a rollercoaster. Highs and lows, twists and turns, moments of terror and fleeting glimpses of beauty. And sometimes, most terrifyingly, it’s just… still.
I am not okay, even now. But I will be. I have to believe that. I’m fighting. Every single day, I’m fighting. And that, in itself, is something. Sure every day feels like a wat and I am constantly battling with that on my brain, but I do have ever confidence and hope that it will get better. I will beat this and I refuse to let it define me anymore.
Because even in the depths of despair, there is always hope. And sometimes, the best way to find that hope was to simply be honest about the darkness.