You may have noticed that I haven’t been around as much as I usually am. I’m quieter on social media. I don’t get out much other than work and basic errands. I’m quiet, don’t say much and don’t interact with my friends much.
As hard as it is to say, I know I need to say it.
I’m struggling with depression.
It’s quite possibly the worst round of depression I’ve ever dealt with, and it’s exhausting, terrifying and I am still wondering how I am supposed to pull myself out of this and come out stronger, healthier and happier on the other end.
Right now, I don’t think I ever will. That kills me to even think about. That’s how bad this is right now.
It’s the kind of depression where I’m so exhausted most of the day that I can barely keep my eyes open at times, but when I try to fall asleep – I can’t sleep. I doze off for a few minutes at a time, only to wake up even more exhausted than before. For the most part in the last couple of weeks, I have gotten half of my normal amount of sleep each night.
It’s the kind of depression where for most of the day, I’ll be fine – still down in the dumps and blue, but dealing okay. Then something, anything will flip a switch and I’ll lose my cool. I’ll cry over anything and everything, no matter how small. The little things that normally don’t bother me cause me to snap, to lock myself in my room.
I don’t want to do anything – just going to work before the holiday break was a struggle. I barely made it through each shift and I tried so hard to keep myself in one piece until I got home. I watched the clock anxiously; I made myself focus on something, anything other than what was going on in my head. It was exhausting, it was a battle.
It’s the kind of depression where I’m not eating much – and even when I do eat? It’s only because my body has gotten to the point where I will be sick or pass out because I haven’t eaten enough. I’ve lost weight, I know I have. I don’t know how much, but I’ve noticed because my clothes are loose on me, nothing fits right, nothing feels comfortable.
It’s the kind of depression where I don’t want to do anything I love. I can’t read. I can’t listen to music. I can’t watch my favorite movies or television shows. I sit in my room in my bed, in the dark and stare at the walls for hours. Sometimes I’ll have the television on, but I am not paying attention to it. I’m still in the dark, wrapped up in my blankets and wondering when this will end.
This is the kind of depression where I will curl up at the end of the night and fight back the tears as I try to go to sleep. I wonder what’s wrong with me, why this is happening, when it will end and I try to tell myself that I have to take it day by day. I tell myself that I got through this before, I can do this again – but this is the worst I have experienced.
I’m not myself.
It has been the longest and hardest month I have ever gone through.
What is worse are the weird thoughts in my head. I hate them. They scare me. They don’t happen often, but when they do – it startles me and really makes me wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I know what’s wrong with me. I’m depressed. I’m a shell of myself and I’m waiting for the light to come through, waiting for something to change.
There are days where I sit for hours and wonder if I am making it sound worse than I really feel, if it isn’t this bad and someone will come up to me and tell me that. I wonder if this will end and I’ll feel like myself the next morning, but I don’t. I wake up, hoping it’s the day where I will finally feel like things are turning around… only to face the cruel reality that it hasn’t.
This is the kind of depression where it’s hard to just get up and do those basic things I need to do in order to get through the day. Getting through work or a quick grocery shopping trip have become something that a exhausting and nerve wracking. I go out and I put on the face that everyone is used to – the happy, normal, take it as it comes kind of girl.
Except on the inside, I’m broken, sad, depressed and trying to figure out what my next step is. Nothing I’m used to doing is fun – friends have had to drag me out of the house to get me to do something, anything. I’m not excited (or even focused enough) to read or watch television. I barely have enough energy to roll out of bed most days.
It’s been like this for a month.
Failing my math class after sixteen weeks of working my ass off, countless hours of homework, studying, going to class, asking questions, getting help from friends and family members – and still I didn’t pass. I was in a funk before that – but this was my breaking point.
I realized that no one is going to know that I am struggling unless I tell them. No one will know that I need a little extra love or time, a little more understanding or space unless I speak up. No one will know that I’m stuck in a deep and dark place, trying to find my way out unless I tell them. Everyone thinks I’m okay – that I’m maybe just worn out or overwhelmed – no one has really realized that I’m depressed.
It scares me. The way I feel scares me, the thoughts that randomly creep into my head scare me and I am depressed. Making it through each day in one piece is hard – I’m mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. I cry over anything and everything. Even the smallest thing will make my mood crumble.
So no, I’m not okay and it is harder than you can ever imagine to sit and here and tell everyone that. I’m not okay. I’m struggling. I’m depressed. I’m scared. I’m sad. I’m not myself. I’m in a dark place, I’m exhausted, beaten down and not sure where things will go from here. I can only take things one day at a time, one step at a time.
But the truth is, I’m struggling with this round of depression. Really struggling.