I know it has been a while since you last heard from me so let me tell you what has been going on. After I published "Deeper," I received so many messages from people saying how proud they are of me for sharing my truth and/or telling me how I inspired them to stop their own self-harm. That is so rewarding. To know that my truth has possibly saved souls makes me feel accomplished. I started this to reach out to anyone and everyone who struggles the way I do. However, I was not expecting this much feedback. While it feels good to know that I am helping others, it also unknowingly puts this heavy weight on my back, like I am not able to make mistakes or let you guys down in any way. It makes it hard to live up to my own expectations, too. So, now I would like to share my next truth:
I am struggling.
I am in pain.
I have been in and out of therapy sessions and doctor visits, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
I told my therapist that I could feel something bad is going to happen and that I was going to slip... and so I did. I have been trying to put my finger on what has been going on in my life and what changed. I don't… Feel the same anymore. I don't feel the same way I did when I was first diagnosed with depression or when I finally came out to the world that I was hiding about what I lived with every day. I still hurt every day. I still feel like I am buried under a pile of demons and, for a while, I thought I knew how to climb on top and see victory. But honestly? I am still here, in the darkness, with no answers.
I feel like I have talked about depression as if I survived it, and that is not the case. I have not survived it. Actually, I still fight it daily. I don’t want anyone that follows me to think that I have all the answers, because I don’t. This is a journal to me—an outlet, a way to describe how I am feeling, and a way of coping. Please do not think that you will find peace here. Rather, you are going to find a woman (me) telling her story. For those of you that do find peace: I admire you, but I am not a professional so don’t take these as answers to any of your questions.
I think that maybe I fooled myself because I exposed the real me to the world and created this image that I was okay and that I beat depression. I didn’t though, and some of you may not have gotten the message, but this isn’t going away any time soon. I will not let depression define me, but it is definitely playing its role. It has helped me find out who I am. I feel like I have a purpose now--a purpose to just simply live in my truth.
This beautiful disease is an everyday battle and a struggle. There will be times when I am able to stay afloat and out of nowhere, something takes me under. Depression resembles the ocean to me: very beautiful, vibrant, and something that will always be there. However, no matter how beautiful it may be, it can also be very dangerous and filled with a lot of harmful creatures and deadly waves ready to strike at any given moment.
For a few weeks, I was feeling very low. I lacked energy, the desire to get out of bed, and even to do something as simple as smile. I wasn’t up for conversations nor did I wish to see daylight. Also? I can’t tell you how I got where I am, but deep down, I do know that eventually, I will have to come up for air. This current in the ocean cannot keep me down for too long. I will fight while I am under and I will get winded and lose my breath from time to time, but when the waves decide to calm and I start to see the sky, I’ll know that this was yet another battle I’ve won.
If you personally know me, you will know that I am an impatient person. When I want something, I want it right then and there. I can see happiness and acceptance at the end of my road but my legs will not move fast enough to get there. It’s like I am staring at a never-ending tunnel and no matter how far I reach my arms out to grab what I think looks like my answer to everything, I just can’t seem to grab it. I feel stuck--and not in a good way. When I first think about being stuck I picture me crammed in an awkward position between the wall and my bed when I was little. I was a wild sleeper, so I found myself in that position a lot more times than I wanted. However, that isn't the ‘stuck’ that I am referring to. I am talking stuck like I don't have any other option to get me out of the place I am in. There are no windows or doors to open, no hidden compartments to find. I feel lost with no compass to point me in the right direction. See, that is a different type of stuck.
When I published ‘Deeper,’ I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt as if I had won. Yes, I told the world that I used to harm myself and my thoughts of suicide but along with that, I also told the world that I surpassed that part of my life. I explained to all of you that I was okay and that I was done with all the bad habits.
Oops, I spoke too soon because I did it again! I took the knife to my thigh. I cried for days afterwards because I thought I had beaten that part. I thought I was past the self-harm part of my life.
Addiction is what I call it--because that is what it is.
I wanted to cut.
I wanted to feel that pain.
I felt that depression had beaten me yet again. I felt both shame and embarrassment for posting my last blog and then having the nerve to go back to the part of my life that I thought I was done with.
Back to the bottom I go… When something like that happens, it’s just not a step back in my head; no, to me, it’s like I have fallen into the deepest hole that I could have found. It’s like I have failed myself once again.
After talking to my therapist, she brought up ‘bipolar depression,’ which means i can have an episode out of nowhere and there’s no telling how long it’ll last--maybe even weeks.
But… That isn’t what I was diagnosed with the first time. So, why am I hearing this now? Session after session after session with my therapist and my diagnosis just for her to change what was originally said? Even still, thoughts are rushing through my head: “This makes so much sense!” and “That explains everything!” and “But wait--does this mean I have to start over?” followed by “Does this mean I have to take different medication?” and “Fuck--more pills to take every morning!” and finished with thoughts of “Why me?” and “Why now?” and “This isn’t fair…”
I have not been officially diagnosed, but just thinking about it? It would suck, living my life and knowing at any given moment for any given reason, I can be down again. It sucks to know there’s a chance I’ll once again repeat the things that make me feel ashamed of myself. This hurts and now, I feel like I don’t know how to live. I feel like I am walking on eggshells. I feel like, at any given moment, I will end up back at the bottom where I started.
But, until that day comes--if it comes--I will live my life as I have been. If and/or when another episode occurs, I will determine how I want to fight it then. It’s a battle for another day. I just can’t keep swimming in the ocean forever thinking that I’m going to eventually drown.
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