You’ve heard the saying of everything being suffocating, being weighted down chained to the bed. Yes that is correct. But everyone deals with it differently.
I was diagnosed at the age of 13. I loved singing, drawing, going to school just normal hobbies. I can’t quite put a finger on what triggered my depression to start but it’s definitely passed down genetically. All of a sudden I stopped doing everything, the only thing I found enjoyment in was sleeping, pretending like I don’t exist.
The fake smile and happiness was exhausting but the most draining part was actually existing.
Having to wake up, lifting my weighted eyelids only to see the intense sunlight was torture. Having my brain to rewire as if I was a robot, learning how to move. Laying in bed on my side I was safe I was curled into a ball like an armadillo my shell being my blanket. Knowing what’s to happen, and how much energy I has to consist in order to be socially acceptable hurt my brain. What actually happened most was, I would over think every possible scenario that can happen in order to absolutely scare myself that I would throw up in fear and anxiety. That would be my excuse to stay at home. An excuse that would happen every morning before school.
My anxiety and depression are best friends like Kevin Heart and The Rock. My anxiety so small but it would laugh at me with its self deprecating jokes. MY depression so big and strong it weighs me down. Put both of them I’m a laughing stock to myself.
It didn’t help that my dad didn’t believe mental health exists and yet when he stayed at home he’d tell me that “he’s having a mental health day,” … yes I wish I was joking. I was so afraid to coming out of my room I became so sick very quickly.
When ever I was at my mum’s house I would make depressive jokes, even suicidal ones. She would tag along saying “oh stop it and get up,” I would laugh it off but inside I questioned wow would anyone even care if I just left?
At school I laughed a little less everyday but enough to make everyone not worry about me.
I’m not a selfish person at all I couldn’t care less what is happening to me so long as everyone else is having fun and is ok.
Which is a dangerous thing but I know how it feels to have no one when you’re about to leave everything.
I still struggle to this day keeping myself alive and existing. I only shower once a week but that’s if its a good week. I could easily go weeks without having a shower. Its so exhausting cleaning yourself, if you don’t understand you really have no say on how disgusting I am or it is. I’m a little better with cleaning, I clean about twice a week, it would get to a point where I’d start to panic about it.
Growing up having your mum threaten to clean your room if you don’t I get so paranoid. My room will come to a state and I could be doing anything and a trigger would set in and it’s almost like I panic clean. It’s nothing major but knowing that someone is going to come into my space not knowing where everything goes, I go into a head spin.
It’s like you’ve finish a project for school or work that you’ve put all of your time and energy into only to find it destroyed or have gone missing. Your natural instinct is to panic.
That’s how I feel.
Depression is so silent and suffocating one day you seem fine asking yourself ‘is it finally over? am I now free?’ only to find out that night or the next day that it never left it was there waiting fir you to feel vulnerable.
my depression took over me that I had to be put on medication to ease the strangulation, so I can finally take a breath.
Photo is from Pinterest by DeviantArt
My question for you is what do you do on your mental health days?