you know internet, i’m not sure i’ve ever come out and really explained something about myself, but let’s get intimate, eh? i struggle with depression. i have been struggling with depression a little over three years. there are a lot of things that i still don’t understand about it despite dealing with it for so long. at first i just thought i was insanely sad and dramatic. i would wake up in the morning with no desire to do anything. i would trudge down the hill to my school and trudge back up to my house closing my door and sleeping or crying or crying on the phone to my mom. she became so exasperated with me she begged me to see a counselor. i did. immediately the lady wanted to give me medication. i didn’t want to take it but things were not improving.
finally i took the medication, for the amount of time that i was supposed to take it. it made my life fuzzy. my brain and the constant thoughts that tumble around in there (i also maybe have OCD, but not in an i’m a neat freak or lick doorknobs kind of way) quit tumbling, which was cool but everything still felt meaningless. it was like leaving a tv on when it’s just static. you can’t really focus on anything else, but it’s not loud enough for you to hear it. that was my brain. for nine months. i was excited when i felt strong enough to quit taking it, i could have my vivaciousness back. i could go back to being my happy, bubbly self. it didn’t work like that though.
i remember when i first started dealing with depression i felt like a shell of my former self. i feel less like a shell, but more like a small snail these days, carrying around that shell and the stuff that’s supposed to be inside of it. somedays that stuff is there and i can convince myself that i’m me, that special, charming girl. but other days that stuff isn’t there. the shell isn’t even there. i wake up, honestly with a desire to die. most days the wanting to die disappears with coffee. but not everyday.
sometimes i wonder if this is what it’s like when you’re in your early 20’s and you’re figuring out who you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, where you’re supposed to do it, and who is supposed to surround you. i’m becoming jealous of my friends that get married and have babies. not that i want that, but that it fufills them. i just know that wouldn’t fufill me, maybe because i’m one of the strange ones. it’s not like i’m super ambitious though. i just want to be happy, do some kind of work that is meaningful, or at least allows me to help others, even if it’s just being in a position to cheer up a strangers day, just by being helpful, encouraging, kind and compassionate. i guess i’m not sure what will fufill me. i moved to seattle thinking that would help fix it, but it turns out there is still this empty dark hole in my body that can consume me for hours and put me into a fit of self pity where i’m back on the phone with my mom crying and saying i don’t know over and over. she told me to close my eyes and tell her what i wanted. all i saw was scruffums and me crying into her. what a disaster i can be…
the worst part is, i know i’m not alone in this. i know that there are people young and old who also wake up angry to be alive. is this just part of modern society? how do you reconcile those dark turns of your mind, especially when keeping on the sunny side just won’t work. what do you do when you realize you’re just going through the same monotonous motions of life? can it be fixed just by consuming the right stuff? if i could make myself better, trust me internet i would do it for all of you lonely souls too.
most importantly, does this existence really matter, at all?
