Crap. I hate this. I don’t even want to get up.
Lay there. Try to sleep again.
Can’t sleep. This sucks. Why even get up? I hate everything anyway.
Alarm goes off again.
Well, I have to. People expect it. But *sigh* nothing is good.
The feeling sinks more in as the tired wears off and the reality that there is no energy to come shows up again. Another day, after another night where you thought you’d go to bed and wake up okay. Another morning where you cannot understand why you can’t get it together.
I don’t want to brush my teeth.
Sit on couch. Stare out window. No thoughts.
I can’t brush my teeth.
Lays back down.
Please, don’t let anyone come and talk to me.
Mom shows up. “Time to get up!”
She makes me so mad, but okay.
I can’t do this.
The fog grows darker and darker as you realize that you haven’t the strength to even get dressed, let alone try to put on a disposition that you care about something in the world. The fog that takes away what you do enjoy, and leaves you begging to just enjoy something again.
Get dressed from the unorganized clothes.
I’ll get to those tomorrow.
Come on brain, concentrate. Please, just concentrate.
Can’t concentrate. WHY CAN’T I THINK!?
What’s even the point?
Phone call to mom.
I can’t do this.
“You can do this.”
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
The walls start to crash in. You feel like an idiot because nothing is wrong, but everything feels dead, teary-eyed, and purposeless. You want someone to call and check on you but you couldn’t speak with them even if they did. You’re just…exhausted.
You make it through another day, somehow.
Go home. Empty house. Feels like your heart.
Who cares about TV? Why are there always so many dishes? I hope no one calls. I have to try to get this house in order.
Sit on couch. Exhaustion piles on thick. Tired eyes, no reason to stand up, achy body, and every negative thought ever.
You won’t be able to do this. All of your friends are going to leave. Your family won’t want to be around you. You can’t be real with these people or else you’ll just sit here like this really alone. You’re a mess; get it together.
No dishes, no cleaning, just begging for bedtime. But knowing 7pm will always be too early. Lay there awake and in aching misery for a while more. Cry, if you’re not too tired to.
Please, God, let it be better tomorrow.
I find that a lot of people have no idea what depression feels like. Oftentimes, it’s a joke. “Why don’t they just get over it?” “Why don’t you just be thankful for some things?” “Clean your room; open some blinds!” “Just call a friend.”
But I just couldn’t. No one with serious depression can. In all honesty, to have depression and not kill yourself sometime during the day is a huge feat. And it’s not pretend. It’s devastatingly real. So real that I would rather go through every day of chemotherapy and amputation instead.
People who stay alive in this aren’t a mess – they’re stronger than you’ll ever know.
So here’s to hope. If you don’t understand depression, please do. Know if your friends and family are depressed. If they’re not calling you back, it might because they need you to go to their house and help them. Clean their house until they can do it again on their own. Never tell them they’re a mess – they’ve already got all the problems evident enough.
If you do understand depression, and you’ve been there, you’re not alone. You are never, ever alone. I know how you feel, and I now, for the first time in my entire life, am not fighting the negative screaming in my head. I’m alive, and you will be too.
Just comment here if you need help. I can help you know what to do.
Don’t give up. You are not ever alone.
…because love wins.