Wow, it's been a long time since I was on this site...
A friend of mine asked me what it felt like when I went through a "low" phase. This is what I sent them.
TW: depression
When you wake in the morning, it feels like your alarm went off too early. You definitely didn't get enough rest. You want to turn it off, but your body feels so heavy. It's like your brain doesn't want to send the signals to move your arm. Drawing breath takes conscious effort, and it feels like something has stiffened your ribs, because they don't want to expand enough to let your lungs inflate.
You finally manage to move your arm, with effort. You snooze, once, twice.... You blink, and the sun is coming through the window. Something in the back of your mind dimly registers that this is unusual... And you realize you've slept right through whatever alarms were left. You might normally feel panic, but today you merely consider whether it's worth getting up and hurrying to work. Maybe you'll just lie here and let the darkness take you.
If you manage to get up, your movements are sluggish. It feels like your brain is encased in warm Jell-O, dulling your senses. You should get going. You know you should. Why are you moving so slowly? By the time you manage to find clothes and get out the door, you're probably already late.
Work is impossible. You sit like a zombie whenever no one is looking. When you have to help someone, you put on that bright, cheery persona you've practiced so many times. Each time you do so, it feels like it takes another piece of your soul. You feel empty just a few hours in, but you don't have any choice but to keep going. You contemplate how much easier things would be if you just stayed in bed forever. You drown yourself in caffeine to make it through the day - it's the only thing that can help mimic that cheerfulness once you have nothing left to give.
Whether you made it to work or not, the evening is the same. You collapse into your bed. You know you should do things - you should eat, you haven't done laundry in weeks and you know you're out of socks. Instead, you lay there in the darkness, doomscroll for hours, and try to keep the bad thoughts away.
Messages. A friend, asking something. You can't even think about trying to respond. You can't pretend to be a functioning human right now.
You had a scheduled event coming up. You should get up and get ready for it. But you can't breathe, can't get up. It's hard enough just to breathe in and out. There's no way you could fake a smile right now.
Your best friend messages. You want to respond. But they'll know. They've known you too long. And then they'll want to help, and you just can't deal with another person existing in the same space as you right now. It's overwhelming, and as much as you wish you could just smile and exist, it would feel fake, and your friend doesn't deserve fake.
You manage to get up and get ready for your event. It takes so much effort. As you try to find socks, you almost give up. Your brain reminds you of something you did last time that was weird, and how everyone must secretly be annoyed by you. You know you don't act like a normal person. You feel selfish asking for things. You *are* selfish. You want so much more than you have. You want everything to come to you, maybe then you'll be able to feel something again.
Maybe if you sit in the shower with the water all the way up, you'll be able to feel something.
You're pretty useless, aren't you? You can't even function like a human being. You can't even stand and shower. Everyone can do that, it's so easy. Why can't you? What's wrong with you?
You turn the water off once it runs cold, and sit in the dark. You're not sure how long passes before you finally get up. It's dark now. You should probably sleep. But you lie there, trying to breathe, and trying not to think about doing all of this again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after....
Dread is your companion, and the only thing you feel these days. That, and a painful, hollow emptiness. It doesn't matter how many times you reach out, how many times you make friends. They'll all drift away eventually, like everyone does. There's no point in trying anymore.
You're not even a side character in their stories, you're at best an extra who shows up for a few episodes and is never central to the story. You don't matter to people the way they matter to you. Why do you care so much about them? It would be easier if you didn't. It would hurt less, for sure.
Day by day, week by week, month by month. It all blurs together. You don't know what day it is. You don't know what time it is. You work, sometimes. The rest of the time, you hide from the world, from the people who don't care that you exist but your mind says hate you anyways. You know it's not true, but your brain still says it. More believable, more difficult to push aside, is the reminder that you're an inconvenience. You're selfish, wanting people to help you, to do things you want instead of what they want to do. You know they're annoyed when you make your demands. You're so selfish, demanding their time and attention. What do they even get in return? It's just a matter of time before they pull away.
And eventually.... You start feeling better. You have more energy. You find a new interest, something that you fixate on and drain every last drop of serotonin you can from. You ride that high, that intensity, and you cling to it, using it to get you to work, to go to events, to start new projects. It's all so exciting, and the change is blinding in its brilliance. But this too, you must be careful with. If you rise too high, the fall is more dramatic, and you might not make it out next time. So you cling tightly to the highs, dreading the lows and doing everything in your power to stave them off. Maybe this time they'll stay away, you think. But you know it's a lie. And the harder you fight it, the worse it will be when it inevitably comes. So you revel while you can, you find new friends, you feel something again, and you wish that it could last forever. Maybe this time.... Please.
