I don’t write much on this blog anymore. I have another blog where I write messages to my daughter that I want her to see later on, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to write this on that one. I guess it didn’t seem to match the overall theme.
I’ve battled depression for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if depression paints your memories with macabre-tinted glasses, but it’s definitely hard to think of a time in my life when I wasn’t like this.
Recently I have been so stressed and so overwhelmed that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have literally cried myself to sleep the last 4 nights in a row, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so stressed in my life.
Not too long ago I watched this show called “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” and one of the central themes was that the main character kept deluding herself into thinking she could make her life better by chasing after something else, that it was something about her circumstance that was ruining her life. But it was something inside all along.
I’m starting to feel that way, and it feels odd to me that I didn’t think about it sooner.
I know I have depression.
I know I have anxiety.
I am open to the possibility that I may have more underlying issues.
But even so, when I am entirely too overwhelmed and can’t function, I always tell myself, “As soon as this is all over, I’ll be so happy.”
But I never am.
In high school I was always stressed about friends. Relationships. Grades. Getting into a good college.
Then in college I was worried about more grades. Finding jobs.
After I got pregnant I got stressed about the baby. Finishing school.
Now I have to think about the stress of finding work. Of moving out. Putting together the means for the beginning of the rest of my life.
I feel no happiness anymore. I feel no excitement. I can’t remember the last time I felt excited about anything honestly.
I’m supposed to graduate from college in a month and I’m not excited. I’m supposed to go on a beach trip with friends in 2 months and I’m not excited in particular. I’m supposed to go to London and Paris in 4 months and I don’t think I’m excited.
For lack of a better description, in recent months I’ve somehow become emotionally dead inside. I have so many mood swings, I’m quick to laugh but quicker to cry. At this point if given the opportunity I don’t think I would hesitate for a second to jump off a bridge.
Something feels very wrong inside me. I feel no happiness. No love. No excitement. Only fear. Anxiety. Depression. Hurt.
I go through the motions of every day life but I am by no means living.
I tell myself that by next year I’ll be out of school and land a decent job and move out and be a happy functioning adult and I’ll make time for hobbies and be a PTA mom and learn to do some things I’ve always wanted to try.
But when I think about it, I’ve always done this. I’ve always been stressed. I’ve always told myself that the future is going to be better, and then it comes and I am still so overwhelmed with depression. I am both disgusted and taken aback with how little regard I’ve had for my own life lately.
The thought of suicide has always been appealing. Not “appealing” per se, but the thought has never not been an option in my mind. I need help. I am so desperate to feel something besides misery.
I don’t know why I took the time to write this out.
My original intent was to highlight the fact that depression isn’t something that you can work your way out of. It’s not something that is due to circumstance, necessarily. Circumstance can definitely aggravate the condition, but it is not the cause.
No matter my circumstances, I keep feelings this way. And I am drowning and I don’t know what to do but I am trying so hard to hold on.