depression

blog: diary of a depression

– TW: Depression

1. (Sunset)
As I sit here on my front porch, looking at the sunset-pink sky, I count my wins from the day. I count them methodically, robotically, not expecting much. I count them to keep from feeling like a failure. I count them to keep the shadows at bay. I count them one by one, taking deep breaths in as I name my triumphs –

… I am surprised at how many I find.

2. (Chores)
I’m feeling a little better this week. I’ve vacuumed the floor. I’ve cleaned out my fridge. There was expired food in there from months back, highly perishable stuff – it’s a wonder I haven’t died of salmonella or botulism. I didn’t know yoghurt could turn that colour.

It was not pretty.
But it’s done.

3. (Social Media)
I feel better now that I’ve isolated myself, cut out a lot of the superficial interactions so prevalent on social media. Doom scrolling, karma farming, etc. People who only know how to contribute by tearing something down. People who are only listening for their turn to speak. The online world is full of thirsty bitches, yet the constant flood of content paradoxically leaves us parched.

4. (Meme Culture)
Unfortunately a boycott of social media also cuts me off from potential new connections. It cuts me off from friends. I don’t mean to offend anyone, or imply that their feelings towards me and our friendships are shallow, or that our interactions are superficial.

But when a meme post gets 32 likes, and a cry for help none, you have to wonder…

5. (Friendship)
I think about those people who, if you were to ask if I thought we were friends, I’d say – yes, sure, of course, I’ve known them forever…

When I realise I haven’t physically seen a lot of those people for a couple of years, in some cases maybe even close to a decade, it raises questions around whether or not I’m just sentimental, clingy and delusional. Am I holding on to something that isn’t even there anymore?

6. (Stigma)
The stigma of mental health is still all too real. We’re supposed to use euphemisms, say things like, “I’m not feeling very well”, “I’m struggling a little lately”, “I’ve been having some intrusive thoughts”. We’re supposed to keep a brave face at work, around family, in public. We wear our masks like armour, until they become our actual faces.

7. (Executive Dysfunction)
We’re not supposed to admit how hard it is just get out of bed some mornings. That it’s been four days since we last showered, or that despite having a fridge full of food, our daily intake has been a donut and some cheese crackers because that’s all we had the strength to muster.

8. (Grace and Woe)
I was born on a Tuesday, but I was born a day early. Because Tuesday’s child is full of grace, but Wednesday’s child is full of woe, and my earliest memories are forged from chaos and destruction.

9. (Weekends Are The Hardest)
It’s only the start of the week, and I don’t know what this one will hold for me. I don’t really make plans anymore, I’m too hard on myself when things don’t happen the way I hoped they would… I don’t reach out to anyone, I’ve tried but everyone is always so busy with their own things and then I just end up feeling like a bother or an obligation. I don’t mind being alone… I’ve always been alone.

I might take myself on a date.

10. (Hold On)
Hope is a powerhouse word; so much strength resides on those four letters. I hope I can get a handle on work this week. I hope my household stays healthy. I hope people will be kind to me. I hope I will be kind to myself. I hope I can hold on to hope, and put some wins on the board.

Hold on… please hold on to Hope.

poem: i am

– Written as an exercise during a writing workshop on self and metaphor

I am a deluge –
Erupting suddenly from within
Floods that bypass my parched throat.
I cover everything and pull it under,
Drowning everything in grief tears.
I am over-saturated, spilling
Untidily into other peoples’ lives.
I am a deluge.

,,,

I am a bellyful of hope –
My waters ebb and flow.
I host abundant life in my womb;
I hold secrets only dreamers know.
I have colours you’ve never seen,
I glisten and glean in the sun.
I am a bellyful of hope.

blog: Figure.09

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

I’ve got some music videos playing on YouTube and Linkin Park’s “In the End” came on. Maybe I’m just over emotional today, but staring at Chester’s face on screen I started to tear up and think omg, if only he knew what an impact he had on so many people and what a legacy he has left behind, would he still make the choice that he made?

But then I think, he had to have known, at least on some superficial level. But it wasn’t enough, and we need to get that the choice to stay or go is always a personal one. Too many times people think “if only I’d done more or made them feel more loved and needed, if only I’d shown them how special they were and what they meant to the world”. But we can’t put that on ourselves. No amount of love is going to save someone and stop them from going if they truly want to.

And Chester wasn’t some kid, he was 41. That’s old enough to know your own mind. He’d been through enough shit to make an informed decision. Of course, oh my God, of course I wish he hadn’t. I’m crying just now thinking about it. I guess I’m just saying, we can’t lay the burden of life on the shoulders of those who don’t want it. All we can do is love and cherish our loved ones for the time we have with them. And if they go gentle into that good night, we can carry their memory forward so their light in this world doesn’t dim.

That’s for benefit of those left behind, but I think the souls on the other side would appreciate it too. 🖤

poem: i don’t want to die today

– TW: Su*cidal Ideation

I don’t want to die today
And by that, I don’t mean
That I’m in any danger of dying.
It’s just that today, for a change,
I’m uncharacteristically apathetic about my demise.

I lean back against the train carriage window
Examine the passengers
In the other train speeding alongside
And idly think, what happens if we collide?
But today my brain is not interested
In hypothesising how many pieces of me
would be left to find.

I wouldn’t say I’m in a good place,
Just a numb place, a space
Where neither life nor death hold sway.
Today is not the day I go home and put a gun
In my mouth
Today is just the day I switch on the television
And zone out.

My subconscious keeps counts
of headstones that mark the graves of everyone
Who’s ever believed in me
Helped me be more than I thought I could be.
I can’t help but feel that I’m letting everyone down;
No matter what I do, I seem to drown.

But today is not the day
I linger on the street with one foot off the curb
It’s also not the day the voice assuring me it gets better
is loud enough to be heard…

Today is just a day for just existing.

poem: knuckles white arm steady

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

Depression isn’t always 
Visible scars, it’s not always
Sitting in your bedroom with the blinds drawn, 
In week-old pyjamas, listening to The Smiths 
And fantasising about who would come 
To your funeral. 

Sometimes depression is 
White-knuckling through your day job, 
Trying to push away the negative thoughts 
And just focus on the thing 
That keeps a roof over your head 
And the lights switched on. 

Sometimes depression is 
Sitting in a crowded mall 
Hurrying to enjoy a cappuccino 
Before the cracks appear, 
Fighting a losing battle with the tears 
Everyone else pretends not to see. 

Depression is getting home and collapsing
Because you no longer have to keep the mask on, 
But that was the only thing holding you together.  
Depression is ice cream for dinner 
Because you’re too exhausted to cook. 

Depression is holding your cat just a bit too tight
And crying because their toe beans are so precious. 
Depression is laying on your back 
Staring up at the ceiling and sinking 
Into a warm black hole of molasses 
And burnt marshmallows. 
Depression is being overwhelmed 
Because tomorrow, you know – 
You have to get up and do it all over again. 

Depression is the dark shadow
That spoons you as you cry yourself to sleep. 
It’s the good morning kiss 
Of a day that’s not quite as bright for you. 
It’s the weight of chains around your shoulders 
That no one else can see, chains 
Around your ankles dragging you down into the deep. 
Depression is staring hard in the mirror,
And for a split second not recognising your own face,
Because the person looking back…
Actually looks happy. 

Depression is what keeps your tongue 
Still and your mouth closed, 
Because other people don’t know 
That talking about your problems 
Or popping a pill 
(Which to choose – red or blue?)
Isn’t going to make the loneliness go away. 

Depression is hanging on to the corpse of hope, 
Because you’re too afraid to let go
Of the thought that things 
Could still get better for you.  
It’s in that stab of jealousy you feel 
When you look at others 
And see life, warmth, joy and happiness;
All the things you’ll never be able to hold
Without fucking it up for yourself
And anyone who loves you. 

Depression is not the thing that kills;
It’s the thought of living your whole life this way
That eventually pulls the trigger.

poem: stages of survival

The mind says,
“This is too much!”

The body says,
“This is too much – I cannot endure.”

The heart says,
“This is too much – I cannot endure, this will kill me!”

The will says,
“This is too much -I cannot endure;
This will kill me, I have to fight this!“

So the will bolsters the heart
The heart rallies the body
And the motion of the body calms the mind.
Confidence soars;
Surely this too will pass.
The pricks are kicked against, 
The salmon swim upstream,
The good fight is fought, 
The trucks keep on trucking. 

Until one day you realize: 
You’re still standing on ground zero, 
You never actually left square one. 
No one is coming for you. 
Nothing will ever change. 
No effort made will ever matter. 

Then the will says, 
“I give up.” 
The heart says, 
“Just let me die.” 
The body says, 
“What’s one more burden?” 
And the mind – 
The mind is numb, and says nothing.

poem: a song for the broken

– TW: Depression, Su*cidal Ideation

I am tired of the roller-coaster
Tired of not being able to walk away
I’m tired of self-perpetuating cycles
Tired of this feeling of certainty
That I am stuck here in this place
Until it kills me.
It is not my job to save anyone
When I can’t even save myself
From myself.

I want so much to be seen as worthy of love…
But excuses run dry –
And then there is only the silence.
That speaks more loudly and clearly
Than any excuses ever could.

I diminish until there’s nothing left… I become
The shadow of potential…
As a nihilist I know that nothing matters,
But as an optimist I long for moments –
Moments that sparkle and shine amongst the nothingness.

Also… I am drunk.
But life is better pondered in an inebriated state.
So hats off to Dylan Thomas,
And give my regards to Sylvia Plath
(alath, alath, poor Sylvia Plath,
she put her head in the oven and turned on the gath)
Tomorrow is a brand new day.

poem: epitaph

And so here I am at that time of day
Where I am alone in my head with my thoughts…

Finally free.

Never was there a more fitting epitaph
Let that be written on the certificate of death
When they come to take my empty shell away
Do not say “She died of a broken heart”
That is far too romantic for a melancholic solitary thing like me.
Instead let them only say,

“Finally free.”

poem: i need a church

I need a church
I need to find a priest to hear my confession
I need redemption
Before I give in to the temptation of self

Forced to face the reflection of the past
I reach out to touch, and smash the glass
My wrists are slashed and I bleed
The pain is familiar and leads me back to myself

There’s no escape – I am who I am
There’s no reconciliation for the sins of the damned
Just that feeling of being in the other side if the glass looking in…
Heaven turns her back on those who condemn themselves.

blog: you are not alone

There will be times in your life when things get a bit slippery, it’s hard to hang on and you feel like you’re falling. It’s natural to panic and reach out to other people around you for help, but you often get mixed reactions depending on who you turn to.

There will always be the people who tell you not to be silly, of course you’re not falling. They firmly believe things like, you reap what you sow, or that a little hard work and perseverance can solve almost any problem you might have. These types of people often think there’s no such thing as depression and mental illness, preferring to label it as ‘laziness’ or ‘melodrama’ instead.

Then there are those who refuse to acknowledge your cries for help, simply because they don’t want to see you fall. They care about you, and can’t handle the thought that you might not be okay. Or maybe they want you to sweep it under the rug, because they depend on you, and need you to be stable and to be there for them.

There will also be those who just want to tell you all about the time they fell. They are quick to talk about their experiences; the “story toppers” are especially hard to deal with – if you have depression, they have the mother of all PSTD, if you have trouble making ends meet, they’ll tell you how they nearly lost everything that one time. These people can be useful, recommending medication or treatment methods, organisations who can help you, or things that worked for them. However, they tend to busy themselves with the symptoms, and ignore the cause.

All you really need sometimes is acknowledgement. What you need is someone to reach out and grab hold of you and halt your downward progress. You need someone to look in your eyes and say, “I know.” And then it will be okay. Because you know that someone out there knows what you’re going through, and they’re committed to not letting you fall.

That’s who *I* want to be – and who I want to encourage other people to be. Sure there will always be elements of all the above people in how we treat people who are struggling and disadvantaged. There will be temptation to deny what other people are going through, or to relate to their experiences in context of our own, and that’s fine. As long as at the end of the day, we’re throwing the life line as well, and letting people know – we’re on their side, and they are not alone.

blog: down in a hole

The thing I miss most about being part of a church or spiritual group is the sense of being connected to something bigger than me.  Others might feel overwhelmed or threatened by the thought of being a cog in the wheel, but I find it comforting. In a way, being a small part of a bigger force gives my existence purpose and direction; it helps to define me spiritually and otherwise.

But lately I feel disconnected.  After reaching a milestone in my life I’ve started to reflect on the past, and I miss some of the things I used to enjoy.  I miss some of the friendships and relationships I used to have, it’s sad that it’s only now I appreciate their true worth. I find myself wanting to wind back the clock a few years, to try to gain back those moments of happiness and the sense of fulfilment I felt at a time when my life was very different.

I am also somewhat isolated now.  I’ve been betrayed by people I thought were friends. I’ve experienced rejection from spiritual mentors and groups from whom I expected support.  Friends and family members have shown me I am not exactly high on their list of priorities.  I feel I have nowhere to turn and withdraw more and more into my own skin every passing day.

Everything I’m going through emotionally is slowly wearing me down. I need to recharge, but without a support network, I feel cut off from the source.  To use an old phrase, I desperately need revival, but bitterness is holding me back. I’m afraid to trust again, to be part of a community that may eventually disappoint or reject me. It seems safer to remain aloof and independent, to rely completely on myself for everything.

And I think that’s an understandable reaction from someone who’s been hurt as much as I have, to withdraw from the world a bit.  That way if I have mistakes or disappointment, there’s only myself to blame. It’s a kind of cocoon, this need to be insular, which protects me while I heal.  The problem is the cocoon is starting to get a bit tight and it’s almost time to leave it behind, but I still feel like I haven’t healed.

So I need to work out where I’m going from here – how do I heal properly, so I can be a part of the bigger picture again?  How do I fix my issues so that when the time comes to rejoin the world at large, I am stable enough to do so?  That’s where I am at the moment, just feeling my way in the dark and trying to find a foothold, because I really don’t want to stay down in this hole forever.