Saturday, June 24, 2017

The Face of Depression


My face is the face of depression.

Tonight it is at an all time maximum.  I don't know how to ask for help.  I do not know how to control it.

It consumes me.

Just when I think I'll be ok, I have sunk even lower before.

I stood in the bathroom for some time trying so hard to compose myself.  I was fighting the urge to cut my wrists.  I caught the pill bottle out of the corner of my eye, held it in my hand for a moment.  I opened the lid and dumped the contents in my hand.  The pills felt like pebbles as I stood there crying.  For one brief moment I considered popping them in my mouth but I dropped them into the toilet and flushed.

I cried harder.

How do I ask for help?  At this hour?  Who do I call?  Where do I turn?

I feel so alone in this.

I came back to bed and decided to write.  Writing seems to help.  I hesitated because I am sure there will be someone out there reading this who will think that this is all for attention.  

If it is you, you can kiss my ass.

My face is a face of depression.  There are many more like mine out there.  

We are not alone.  There are millions of faces just like mine.

We can be good liars.  We will tell you we are ok when we are breaking inside.  We will tell you we are fine when we are certainly not.  We will smile, joke, laugh; hell, some of us are downright funny.  But we are dying inside.

We mostly suffer in silence.

We believe that we are unlovable.  We believe we are overweight, ugly and damned.  We believe that we aren't worthy of being happy.  We believe that we will be rejected by anyone we reach out to.

Why would someone love us, we are just a hideous mess?

Depression isn't something we can just "get over".  We just can't take a walk or soak up some sun.  It doesn't work that way.

It is so difficult to explain how depression feels.  It is way more complicated that just being sad.  It is more than just crying.  It is more than just feeling empty and numb.

Depression is a liar.  I know this and I am sure that others like me know it as well.  Sometimes the lies become our believable truth.

Tonight was a small victory, the pills were flushed.  There are many others out there who lost their battle.  It saddens me that we do suffer alone when there are so many of us.

My face is a face of depression.


Above photo was taken right after I flushed the pills.



Suicide Prevention Hotline
800-273-8255











4 comments:

  1. Just saying I read this. I know that is hard shit. Normal shit too actually. There is nothing seriously wrong with you, except it would be much better if your insides felt better.

    I am not going to say anything stupid. Living low is hard. It brings your thoughts down, and you can't climb out.

    Anyway, I read. I've been where you are at long ago. I didn't climb out, I was let out. One night st work in the hospital my energy came back, and life could be fun again.

    I can't help you at all, but I am here reading your blog.

    I rarely comment anymore on blogs, but once in a while.

    Sorry for your hard time.

    Cya.

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    1. Thank you Steve....I appreciate your comment.

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  2. I can't begin to know how you feel, but I am your friend and I am here for you as best I can be. Feel free to ask for what you need (except lots of money, OK, and maybe I won't be less of a dork) - and if I can help somehow I will, without any favors owed. I know the Don allergy is annoying - but they make drugs for that :oP And I suppose I am a little hard on the waitstaff at times, or I have a tendency to make you laugh so hard you end up in ER, but somehow you usually find a way to smile at least once - and you have such a pretty smile, mischievous green eyes and an apparent allergy to stepladders... Anyway... you know what I mean, kinda sorta...

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    1. Thank you Don, I have always appreciated your friendship (even if I'm allergic). And I think we double team the waitstaff. :-)

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