If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt happy in years. I’ll lie to myself and put a smile on my face, somehow believing that it’ll trick my mind into thinking I’m happy. At best, I’m neutral half the time. The other half is what scares me.
And it’s getting worse. Much worse.
Not too many people know my battle with depression or the number of pills I have to take a day to feel something considered “normal”. Most people I know would call me anti-social or an introvert. I don’t mind being alone but more often than not, I’m lonely. And putting yourself out there or pushing yourself to make friends is not a quick fix to depression.
I’m drowning in a river while people I know are looking on or offering a stick instead of a branch. They pass me by saying, “Get out of the water!” while I’m trying my hardest to, fucking flailing about in this whirlpool.
That’s the funny thing about depression. People think you’re just sadder than usual or that you just need alone time or time to relax. My therapist told me to go to gym to get endorphins or “be social”. Depression makes you want feel so down to the point where you think your presence in this world is so worthless, there’s no point to interact with people. Makes you feel like you’re not good enough for friends or love. Makes you question why anyone bothers to acknowledge you, if they do. Makes you feel nothing for the good things in life or the things you used to feel pleasure in, whatever they may be.
It’s been three years since I’ve been diagnosed and nothing has changed. I’m starting to wonder if it ever will. I keep telling myself that maybe it’s just a phase. As if a miracle will happen and I’ll be so happy and have a shit ton of friends, but a phase doesn’t last years.
I feel empty, but honesty I’m used to it. I don’t really feel excitement for going out because I know plans will fall through. Haven’t been out in months and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me to see my “friends” hang out all the time minus me. Or maybe I’m just bitter that they can be normal without pills, without dark invading thoughts, without a cloud over them. I’m a downer. An energy sucker.
I used to think it would be easier better off dead. Would anyone really miss me? I honestly doubt it. I’m not making an impact on anyone alive anyway. Got to the point where I mixed my pills with alcohol regularly. Nothing happened, but I sometimes wished something did. Got to the point where I wrote goodbye letters to everyone I knew. Got the point where I had a perfect plan in place orchestrate my death if things hit a dead end. I haven’t hit rock bottom yet, but it’s strangely reassuring to have an exit plan.
What does it mean to be normal? To not have these thoughts all the time? To not feel tired. To not feel worthless every second of the day. Everyone says they feel like that and that everyone goes through something like this. But when thoughts are permeating deep inside your brain. You can’t escape it. I don’t think I ever will.
In the end, I’ve been coping. But I don’t want to be someone who copes with life. I want to be someone who lives life. I don’t want to be pitied or told that things are going to be alright.
I just want to be able to convince myself that I’m going to smile and mean it. Even for a second. I think I’m failing.
titsay
prguitarman
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
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