Darkness

I wish I had answers.

I always do.

Truth is, I don't have a clue.

Chemical imbalance, illness, emotions.

They're all just words. You can find them all in a dictionary or on google. You can seek their definitions and be able to recite them word for word.

Unfortunately mental illness changes from person to person. There isn't one clear meaning or reaction. No matter what the internet, doctors and dictionaries say.

We all spiral differently.

There are shades of darkness.

Some of us fight the darkness with substances.

Some of us fight the darkness with self harm.

Some of us don't fight the darkness, but embrace it like an old friend.

If we hurt other people, we're hurting ourselves twice, three times, four times more.

I am still in my break down.

The start, the middle, the end, I don't know.

I still wake up every morning wishing I hadn't.

Take that as you will.

My life is not my own, it belongs to a curly haired little girl who loves me more than I think anyone ever has.

I don't have choices of my own.

Right now my choices belong to my daughter and my illness.

They want very different things.

My illness tells me I don't care. My illness tells me sleep. My illness tells me everything and everyone can fuck off.

My daughter tells me she loves me. Tells me to play. Tells me to read. Tells me to live.

I will never have answers, I can only hope for solutions.

If it takes 18 hours of sleep a day to spend 6 with my Monkey, I accept that for the moment.

I feel safe in the darkness. Like a warm blanket on a cold night.

I don't know what will or is happening. I know I fight in my own way. You may not see it, you may not like it, you may not accept it but this is the control my illness has.

Sadness, Being Depressed and Depression - Do you know the difference?

Yesterday my boyfriend broke up with me. I am sad. Horribly, painfully, heart wrenchingly sad. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. No he is not an evil monster or an asshole, he is still the incredible man I fell in love with. Brilliant, beautiful and passionate. This in itself makes me more sad. I am hurting and even the thought of Adele songs is making me weepy and increasing that horribly empty feeling in my chest. This is sadness. I am sad.

In the states a young man was shot and killed by a neighbour. The only thing the boy did wrong? He wore a hoodie to the store, was black, and walked in front of a over zealous neighbourhood watch persons house who happened to be racist. Trayvon was shot for wearing clothes while black. This depresses me. It is depressing that we live in a world where that kind of hate still exists. Being the mother of a biracial baby it also scares me. Terrifies me in fact. Trayvon could easily have been a relative, a friend, a mentor, a colleague or my beautiful girl. I am depressed about how Trayvons death is being handled and I am depressed that Trayvon lost his life. This is being depressed. I am depressed.

Last night I came home and took my medication cocktail. Anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication. I have a mental illness, more then one actually. My brain misfires and the chemicals often are imbalanced like a grade 7 science project gone wrong. I have depression. It is a medical condition. I can't "snap out of it". My highs and lows are intensified. I often feel overwhelmed by emotion for no reason. I have vivid nightmares and confusing thoughts. I twitch, I have both racing and slow motion thoughts. I will be medicated for the rest of my life and I am ok with that. I will have good days and bad days that I do not control. This is depression. I have depression.

Depression: Truth In Words

I have severe depression. No I am not just over-dramatically sad sometimes. I am not an attention seeker. I have a diagnosed mental illness that will require medication for the rest of my life.

Telling me to "cheer up", "look at all you have" or "tomorrow will be better" isn't going to change anything. Using "tough love" and telling me to "pull it together" or "stop being dramatic" also isn't going to change anything. You can't talk me into being happy.

Depression is not an emotion.

Though depression manifests as a complex series of emotions, it is not. It is an illness.

When I am in the midst of a depressive episode I can not see the forest for the trees. I feel like I am being crushed from the inside out. My thoughts and emotions are irrational. I am full of self-doubt and loathing. The chemicals in my brain no longer function properly and often leave me a sad trembling ball of hatred.

Depression can take on so many physical characteristics. The worst of which for me is the feeling that I can not function within my body. I stop eating, sleep more then I am awake and get severe headaches and body pains.

Sadly another manifestation of my personal depression is that I self-harm. I am lucky enough to be able to control it now, I have managed to keep my thoughts rational enough to prevent causing myself harm. I often do this by venting. Instead of turning inward, I turn outward. Most people don't understand this at all. They see it as drama. They see it as attention seeking. They dont see it as a safe substitution to cutting, drinking, or pill popping.

Though my issues are very real, I take them to a place far beyond what they need to be, seeing situations through desperate eyes and a heavy heart. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, no silver lining, only blackness. During my down times I dont have many choices that I am capable of making. If my mind had it's way I'd shut the door, sit in the dark, listen to angst filled music and get drunk while cutting myself. THIS is where I am given my only choice.

Even in complete darkness we are given choices.

I choose not to cut.

I choose to take care of my child.

I choose to cry, vent and sleep my way through the pain.

I choose to survive.

It has taken me years to get to this point. Many people will never get to this point. The demons are often stronger then the will to survive. I have lost friends to all the demons. Alcohol, drugs, self-destruction and suicide.

Reading back this all sounds so hard, clinical, emotionless. Here's the boiled down version...

I didn't choose to have depression. I didn't choose to have social anxiety issues. I don't know why I have them, what causes them or if they will ever go away. What I do know is that I hurt. I hurt from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Anyone who doesn't believe we have a soul, is wrong. I know this because I feel mine, in the absolute depths of my despair, I can feel it. It's worse then heartache, worse then loneliness, worse then any other pain I have felt.

It. Fucking. Hurts.

No one is perfect. We all have issues and demons to battle. Mine are demons in my head. I quell them with medication and time. I dont judge your demons, don't judge mine.

To paraphrase, "There but for the grace of a higher power, go I."

...And nothing but the truth

"Ask me no questions and i'll tell you no lies" - Oliver Goldsmith

The past few months... ok year... ok couple of years... have been plagued by the question "Are you ok?" in my world. I smile, I nod, I say "yes"... the asker smiles, nods and moves on with their life. A simple exchange that no one thinks twice about. Well except me, I think about it twice, three times, at night, the next day... It haunts me. A little question in passing meant as an expression of caring and a show of support and I hate it. Not because it was asked but because I answer it every. fucking. time. with a lie.

The truth?

I am not ok.

I havn't been "ok" in a very long time. Its true, I have moments of absolute joy. Days, weeks where I am blissfully happy or at least blissfully unaware and completely able to function. I smile, I laugh, I go out and enjoy life. Hell I hold hands with people who arn't ok and tell them how amazing life can be and that they are such a beautiful and special part of what makes this world awesome. My reality is a much darker one. My rose coloured glasses have long since turned grey and my rainbows are a monochromatic wasteland.

I have severe clinical depression.

The kind of depression that doesn't ever go away. A disease that can be managed but not cured. Diagnosed when I was just a child, I've spent basically 2/3s of my 27 years in a depressive hell. Medication, hospitals and scars have plagued my life. Like anyone, at times my depression has been situational, but most of the time it actually is a chemical imbalance in my brain. I also have a severe anxiety disorder. The combination of these two mental health diseases makes my life a constant struggle. Add to that my history in general and you're left with a shell of a human being.

Some people see me as a whiner. Someone who bitches and moans constantly, an attention seeker, an annoyance. In truth I probably am those things at least some of the time, but I also don't know any differently. I don't know how to just be. My brain doesn't allow it. It also contributes to the creation of more problems in my world.

I don't know how to focus, I can't keep a job, I hoard.

I don't sleep properly, I drink too much, I'm easily angered/upset/annoyed.

In the past i've had addiction issues, promiscuity issues and have been known to self harm.

Even as a write this my focused, understandable writings are losing steam. I want to scream, and cry, and throw things, and pour a stiff drink, and smoke a whole pack of cigarettes, and bleed just as proof that I am as human as the people I see every day. My body is starting a revolt against my mind. Headaches, vomiting, body pain, all my body's way of covering up mental pain with physical pain. My body is trying to self-preserve by destroying itself.

So why the fuck am I telling people all this? Its not exactly shit that endears me to people and makes people want to be around me. If anything it makes people give me "the look" and walk away, you know "the look". The one of pity and disgust Im sure we've all seen in some capacity.

Well I'm telling people this because the silver lining in my grey world is becoming tarnished and Im starting to lose my grip. I don't honestly know what the next little bit of my life is going to be like.

What I do know is that my stress levels are through the roof. In fact I just threw a phone across my apartment and into a wall. A sure sign of mental stability and wonderful coping skills.

So there it is folks. In black and white. I am melting down but I'm fucking trying dammit and I don't know how to be any different. And to paraphrase the late Ms. Monroe, If you cant fucking handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.

(Just FYI...I've spent today trying to research parents with depression. Tried to find information on coping techniques, new ways to operate, anything... You know what I've found? That everyone is concerned about the children and no one really gives a rats ass about the parents beyond the fact that their horrible mental state is damaging their children. Gee thanks doctors and scientists of the world, don't help us try and get better just keep telling us were failing.)