Skip to main content

The uninvited guest.

Here we meet again. I welcome you as my most dependable sidekick, and my most trusted nemesis. May you never grow happy and prosper. I have always found a certain difficulty in all my trials to fully grasp my understanding of you. You were never really graphic, and yet you always managed to jog my memory of all the times you've visited me. I can't describe them to anybody of course, even as a writer, you were always a touchy shadow I was warned not to talk about. My dirty little secret. I mean, how can you tell your mom that someone has sneaked into your room and held you captive in bed all day? How can you tell your friends you never leave the house anymore or that you can't pick up because you have been crying all day? How can you tell them about the ceiling slipping lower with every breath or the walls getting closer draining every ounce of vigour within you? How can you tell them about your drowning lungs that gasp for air like a fatigued horse after a long race or a patient in the 1930s who have caught a glimpse of the white plague and the only thing he could hear is the throbbing rhythms of his dying heart? How come you explain to them that you want to feel something again so badly that the idea of self-harm.. The pain.. The blood.. The pallor on your face.. They all start to sound so convenient? You can't and you suffer alone.
But you are not a failure for taking off your boxing gloves and leaving the ring. It's okay not being Muhammad Ali, or Usain Bolt, or any other super athlete you keep comparing yourself to. Because depression isn't something you can always fight on your own. And you need to acknowledge that in order to heal. That's the first step of a very long journey, my friend. Reach out. Describe the indescribable. There're people out there who have fought the same battles as you did. People who will listen and understand the weight and the chronicity of what you are going through. Just get your words out and deem every single one of them significant.


Writer's notice: [If you are suffering from persistent depressive disorder, (also known as dysthymia or chronic depression), know that it's not normal to feel this exhausted, to not feel refreshed after waking up in the morning. Make sure you see a therapist and get the right diagnosis. According to The Mayo Clinic, PDD is a “continuous, long-term (chronic) form of depression” and those affected by it “may be described as having a gloomy personality, constantly complaining or incapable of having fun.” But you are. You are capable of having fun. And it gets much better, believe me.]

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Covered in lead.

This morning, I hated my mug with the words "Do more of what makes you happy" encrypted on it, I let it slip inbetween my fingers like paper. I didn't brush my teeth first thing or take a shower. Rather, I stayed motionless in bed. My mom made me the breakfast I never laid my hands on. Today, I feel out of character. Really out. I'm having one of those out-of-body experiences, and to be honest, I'm not very fond of the photograph I'm about to see. I don't love the body I was incarcerated in. I'm an object slowly drowning into a thousand disguises I should have worn. I try to swim my way out but I'm anchored by all the books I read, all the movies I loved, all the people I cared for and left. There will always be this layer of lead surrounding me, preventing me from grasping the marvels of the world. If only I could touch it, smash it into a million pieces before it changes into fog. My pain is wearing a bulletproof vest underneath his garment. My p...
Post a Comment
Read more

The pursuit.

You just realise it after spending 21 years chasing a phantom, after hitting nethermost zeros or being at the toppest climaxes and definitely after having a few phases of deep reflection where you start debating everything you have ever experienced. We sketch happiness at the end of each line and we feel entitled to it. We work our asses off and do everything right hoping it would be adequate enough and that things would cosmically align. Little do we know that pain is always part of the process. You can't enjoy every rain drop and every storm along the way without getting soaked. You can't find home without feeling lost at first, you can't feel connected with somebody without the jadedness of waiting, you can't have a best friend without the awkwardness of beginings, you can't negotiate in 'now's without saying goodbye a couple of times, you can't find faith and trust without the sharp pain of disappointment stabbing you in the chest, you can't be s...
Post a Comment
Read more

That's what writing is to me.

I'm starting to think that people usually perceive me as a writer and I remember saying when I first started writing that I don't want to be looked at as such. It's a responsibility I am not willing to take. I only write for my own self-amusement and relief and that doesn't qualify me for anything other than being a friendly neighbourhood thought-giver. Some scripts aren't so personal that I choose to share them with the world. Others are just better kept unsaid.
Post a Comment
Read more